So I kind of took a mini-break.
Mostly due to the fact that for the first pregnancy ever, I am sick, sick, sick. In the evening. After the kids go to bed. How completely and utterly unfair is that?
But my energy seems to be slowly returning and I'm beginning to get that pregnancy rush. Does anyone else get that? The I-can-move-mountains-with-my-belly feeling? Love it!
I was also quite honored this week to receive two awards. I know blog awards are a dime-a-dozen, but sometimes they really mean something. Dawn who just lost her own father, awarded me a Perfect Post for my post about my father's miraculous healing. I was incredibly touched by her heartfelt appreciation of my story. Dawn, you are in my prayers.
I was also picked by the Graco team for their March monthly nod for my Blissfully Domestic post on stretching your grocery budget. I've been told that a small gift is on it's way. Um, just so you know, I'm going to have five in car seats, and those suckers are expensive! I really like this one.
Cuz' this baby's going to be a girl, or Toots and I just may take off.
Saturday, April 05, 2008
Catch Up
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Welcome Home
You've come to talk with me again...
I've spent my entire life fighting the reputation of being a B. There was a time when that title was rightfully earned, but although I am a softer and gentler woman than before, I still tend to get labeled.
I'm not an emotional woman. I'm level-headed, analytical and slightly cold. Some days, not so slightly. I don't have many deep friendships. I don't like forced bonding (read: playgroups, women's retreats, get-togethers in general). I don't share deep personal secrets with anyone (the internets does not count, of course). I do NOT like to be touched by anyone who has not been inside my body one way or another. And I usually hide if I see someone I know unexpectedly.
Wanna' be my friend?
Mostly, though, I don't cry. I don't cry when I give birth (I sigh, in relief). I don't cry when I'm angry (I clean). I don't cry when I'm hurt (I plot). I don't cry when I feel like I'm going to burst (I do handstands- very head clearing).
But, oh, when I am pregnant, holy crap, the floodgates open! Actually, that's usually how I know I'm pregnant.
"Mommy, can I have a drink of milk?"
"Just a minute."
"Please, mommy, I'm thirsty."
"Why can't you be patient?" sniffs "I'm trying to change a diaper." sobs "Sometimes I just feel like a maid." snorts
"Mommy, are you having a new baby?"
For so long, I viewed emotion as weakness. I used to value my father over my mother because he is level-headed and logical. My mother is deeply sensitive and tender, and cries at the slightest hint of emotion (be it pain, joy, fear or surprise). For years I tended to think of him as strong and her as weak. It is only in recent years that my eyes have been opened, and I have come to realize that her mercy and grace and empathy make her incredibly strong.
During my first pregnancy, the rush of hormones was not welcomed. I felt alien, betrayed and helpless. I would cry about ridiculous things and rage over minor details. But, for the first time in my life, I began to relate to people; in particular to women. I could empathize with a friend's frustrations on a different level than before. I could relish my mom's small victories without thinking her shallow. I could listen without feeling the need to offer advice. Okay, perhaps not fully, but at least I didn't always voice the advice.
During the subsequent pregnancies, I would throw my hands up in surrender at the first sign of hormones. I knew the next nine months would be full of angry outbursts, pity-parties and meltdowns (No clothes that fit? Life is over). I accepted the hormones, perhaps even relished in using them as an excuse, but never embraced them.
This time, I welcome them. I welcome the insight they bring to my slightly narrow-minded life. I welcome the input they offer to my know-it-all self. I welcome the alternatives to logic and sanity. I welcome the maddening outbursts of stream-of-consciousness blather. Well-formed sentences are overrated, anyway.
Mostly, I welcome the softening.
So come, hormones, wash over me. Flood me with your clarity and your confusion. Take away the B that still lingers and replace her with a gentle, slightly soggy girl.
But if you touch my belly, she WILL be back!
Monday, February 11, 2008
So I'm A Little Odd
One of my absolute favorite bloggers, Amanda of Shamelessly Sassy (finalist for a Bloggie, I may add) challenged us to confess our quirkiest traits. Never one to back down from a challenge (with the exception of those issued at 6am from the 4 year old), I decided to join in.
1) I can't stand things to be uneven on my body. For example, if one of my kids accidentally whacks my leg, I'll hit the other one to make it even. Or if Dave pinches one of my um, cheeks, he knows he's got to get the other one too.
2) I drink milk, and only milk, when I am eating spaghetti.
3) I call the guys who work at Wal-Mart "Wal-Mart Boys" even though I know it is incredibly rude and degrading. I don't mean to do it, and I always say I'm going to stop, but somehow whenever I am there, I always need help and its, "Um, excuse me, Wal-Mart Boy? Do you know where the Confederate Flags are?"
4) I used to be a chronic sleepwalker. I woke up in the shower at least once a month. I woke up knocking on my neighbor's door one time. I woke up in the car, with the keys in the ignition, when I was pregnant with Asker. One time I even ate a ham and cheese sandwich that I had made for Dave's lunch (and I do NOT eat cheese). I stopped sleepwalking when I had kids. Now, I just don't sleep.
5) I do this weird thing, sometimes, with my mouth when I'm driving. I keep my jaws clenched when there is just grass on the side of the road, but open them when there is any obstruction (tree, driveway, mailboxes, etc.) One side of the road is easy, but when I do both sides, my jaws are open, shut, open, shut, open. I do it with my mouth closed, so it's not obvious (just extremely weird, I know.) I think it started in elementary school when my mom would make us look out our own windows so we would stop antagonizing each other. I'm trying to avoid creating obsessive-compulsive freaks, so I let my kids have at it in the car. Anyway, I'm too busy watching for driveways to referee.
6) I have a serious aversion to being physically touched. When I am the right mood, I can enjoy a hug or a massage (sex is fine, it's the kissy-face, affectionate kind of touching I shirk from) And I hate to admit it, but I have been known to cringe even at my husband's touch if I was not expecting it. And I adore him. I just don't like to be hugged. I used to be rather blunt and obvious about it, but I have picked up some social skills along the way, and I no longer recoil in horror at sweet old church ladies coming in for the hug. But I just can't bring myself to return them.
7) I love spicy food. The hotter the better. I have yet to find a food, sauce or wing that is too hot for me.
8) I balance my checkbook(s) every day. Every single day. Every single penny, every single day. It makes me happy.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
A Few Basics
Disclaimer: This post is intended for my non-blogging readers. The ones who are completely clueless as to how this whole internetz thing works. The rest of you can come back tomorrow.
So, if you're still here, this is the post I should have done a long time ago. Because, you guys are just not getting it. So, I'm going to do a Blog Reader 101. Pay Attention.
Lesson One: Getting to the blog
This may seem obvious, but I do check Google Analytics on a hourly regular basis. There are quite a few of you who are still Googling "chicken feed blog" or "just chicken feed blog" or "justchickenfeed.com"(hello, hit enter) or my favorite "chikin feed blog" on a daily basis.
I also have a serious stalker from my high school who's checking my blog, like, eight times a day. Either that, or a few not-so-internetz-savvy friends from high school keep accessing this blog from our highschool alumni webpage.
Friends (and stalker) there is an easier way.
Do you see the orange button over to the right there? It looks kind of like this.
It's this amazing, magic button that will allow you to come back every day without re-Googling. It's similar to the favorites function in IE or the bookmark function in Firefox. Of course, if you are cool enough to use Firefox, you so do not need this tutorial.
Subscribing to the feed will let you see, at a glance, when there are new posts, without actually loading the page. Or, if you prefer, you can have updates sent to you by email. This one takes a bit more effort. You have to click on the link left that reads "Subscribe to Just Chicken Feed by email." I know it's difficult, but you can do it.
Now, if along the way, you realize that there are so many better bloggers than I, and want to read about Amanda's neighbor pooping on her couch, or Rachel making it snow in Texas , you can organize all your feeds in a handy-dandy reader.
Either in your browser, or in a reader, subscribing to feeds is the best way to check for new content. And it is so important to our delicate bloggy egos to maintain a large subscriber count. Of course, large is a relative term. Ree gets more comments in 2 minutes than I have readers.
Speaking of comments...
Lesson Two: Commenting on a Blog
In the words of the Fabulous Mrs. Fussypants, "comments are the blogger's crack." And we are all addicted.
I don't like to talk on the phone, I despise forwarded emails, I hide from people I know in the grocery store. But, dang, if I don't get a shot in the vein from those comments. And, people, I know you are out there.
One day last week, I had 168 people visit, and 12 comment. Granted, a lot of those were looking for chicken feed (just the regular kind, not the funny kind), but come on!
It's really easy. You click on the Post a Comment button at the bottom of an individual post, or click on the 14 comments (or whatever) if you are on the home page. Then a nice little window pops up that looks amazingly like this one.
If you don't have a Blogger account, you can click on the Nickname field, and choose any name you'd like. ANY! You can be "Bob", or "ReallyCoolBob" or "ReALlyC00LBOb" or "DeLurkingBob."
You don't even have to write your name (or Bob's) at the bottom of your comment; it will do it for you!
Or, if you are really annoying, you can click on the Anonymous field.
So, what have we learned today? Way more people search for "chicken feed" than read Jenni's blog on a daily basis. Well, yeah, that. And, that we need to subscribe and comment.
Say them with me now, "subscribe and comment."
Now, go forth.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Top Momma
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
I Need To Do More Stuff!
I hate forwarded emails. Usually when I see the FW: in the subject line, I just delete them (yes, yours too). The few that I do read, I instantly check with Snopes to see if they are legit. In particular, I hate those "friends surveys." I am so not interested in what you ate for breakfast, or whether or not you wear pajamas. So when I saw this post at the wonderful Seeking Sanity, I was leary. But it is much cooler than the normal lists. I bolded the things I have done, with my comments in ().
01. Bought everyone in the bar a drink
02. Swam with dolphins
03. Climbed a mountain (in the Andes, no less)
04. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive
05. Been inside the Great Pyramid
06. Held a tarantula
07. Taken a candlelit bath with someone
08. Said "I love you" and meant it
09. Hugged a tree
10. Bungee jumped
11. Visited Paris
12. Watched a lightning storm at sea
13. Stayed up all night long and saw the sun rise
14. Seen the Northern Lights
15. Gone to a huge sports game
16. Walked the stairs to the top of the leaning Tower of Pisa
17. Grown and eaten your own vegetables
18. Touched an iceberg
19. Slept under the stars
20. Changed a baby's diaper (ya' think?)
21. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon
22. Watched a meteor shower
23. Gotten drunk on champagne (everything but champagne)
24. Given more than you can afford to charity
25. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope
26. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment
27. Had a food fight
28. Bet on a winning horse
29. Asked out a stranger
30. Had a snowball fight
31. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can
32. Held a lamb
33. Seen a total eclipse
34. Ridden a roller coaster
35. Hit a home run (does backyard baseball count?)
36. Danced like a fool and didn't care who was looking
37. Adopted an accent for an entire day (I still do this)
38. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment
39. Had two hard drives for your computer
40. Visited all 50 states (24 to go)
41. Taken care of someone who was drunk
42. Had amazing friends
43. Danced with a stranger in a foreign country (but I have danced with a foreign stranger in this country)
44. Watched whales
45. Stolen a sign
46. Backpacked in Europe
47. Taken a road-trip
48. Gone rock climbing (hello, married to Dave)
49. Taken a midnight walk on the beach
50. Gone sky diving
51. Visited Ireland
52. Been heartbroken longer than you were actually in love (with that person!)
53. In a restaurant, sat at a stranger's table and had a meal with them
54. Visited Japan
55. Milked a cow
56. Alphabetized your CDs
57. Pretended to be a superhero (Hey, I've got boys)
58. Sung karaoke
59. Lounged around in bed all day
60. Played touch football
61. Gone scuba diving
62. Kissed in the rain (and in the snow)
63. Played in the mud
64. Played in the rain
65. Gone to a drive-in theatre
66. Visited the Great Wall of China
67. Started a business
68. Fallen in love and not had your heart broken (I don't think that's completely possible)
69. Toured ancient sites
70. Taken a martial arts class
71. Played D&D for more than 6 hours straight
72. Gotten married
73. Been in a movie
74. Crashed a party
75. Gotten divorced
76. Gone without food for 5 days
77. Made cookies from scratch
78. Won first prize in a costume contest
79. Ridden a gondola in Venice
80. Gotten a tattoo
81. Rafted the Snake River
82. Been on a television news program as an "expert"
83. Gotten flowers for no reason
84. Performed on stage
85. Been to Las Vegas
86. Recorded music
87. Eaten shark
88. Kissed on the first date (Thank God that's all it asked)
89. Gone to Thailand
90. Bought a house
91. Been in a combat zone
92. Buried one/both of your parents
93. Been on a cruise ship
94. Spoken more than one language fluently (Oui, je parle francais)
95. Performed in Rocky Horror
96. Raised children (well, I rear mine)
97. Followed your favorite band/singer on tour
98. Passed out cold
99. Taken an exotic bicycle tour in a foreign country
100. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over (let me count...)
101. Walked the Golden Gate Bridge
102. Sang loudly in the car, and didn't stop when you knew someone was looking
103. Had plastic surgery
104. Survived an accident that you shouldn't have survived
105. Wrote articles for a large publication
106. Lost over 100 pounds
107. Held someone while they were having a flashback
108. Piloted an airplane
109. Touched a stingray
110. Broken someone's heart
111. Helped an animal give birth
112. Won money on a TV game show
113. Broken a bone
114. Gone on an African photo safari
115. Had a facial part pierced other than your ears
116. Fired a rifle, shotgun or pistol (all of them)
117. Eaten mushrooms that were gathered in the wild
118. Ridden a horse
119. Had major surgery
120. Had a snake as a pet
121. Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon
122. Slept for 30 hours in a 48 hour period
123. Visited more foreign countries than U.S. States
124. Visited all 7 continents
125. Taken a canoe trip that lasted more than 2 days
126. Eaten kangaroo meat
127. Eaten sushi
128. Had your picture in the newspaper
129. Changed someone's mind about something you care deeply about
130. Gone back to school
l131. Parasailed
132. Touched a cockroach
133. Eaten fried green tomatoes
134. Read The Iliad and The Odyssey
135. Selected one "important" author who you missed in school, and read
136. Killed and prepared an animal for eating (Dave's territory, not mine)
137. Skipped all your school reunions (so far)
138. Communicated with someone without sharing a common spoken language
139. Been elected to public office
140. Written your own computer language
141. Thought to yourself that you're living your dream (one of them)
142. Had to put someone you love into hospice care
143. Built your own PC from parts
144. Sold your own artwork to someone who didn't know you
145. Had a booth at a street fair
146. Dyed your hair
147. Been a DJ
148. Shaved your head
149. Caused a car accident
150. Saved someone's life (Does grabbing toddlers from running into the street every other day count?)
So, I count 73 things that I have done. What about You?
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
The Dog & I Finally Have Something In Common
I'm shedding.
It's one of those things that comes with having babies that they don't tell you about ahead of time. Like the first time you do-the-deed after giving birth and your ladies squirt all over your husband? Yeah, kinda' would have liked to have known that ahead of time.
So my hair is falling out in clumps. I find it everywhere. I've found hair in the fridge, in the fish tank, in Superboy's diaper, and in dinner. And every single time I go pee? There's hair in my crack. You needed to know that.
The problem is, my hair is long. Really long. I just cut off 6 inches, and Dave didn't even notice. OK, that could probably be said of any man and any amount of hair, but 6 inches!
I'm cleaning out my brush two times a week. The hair has been so compacted, I practically have to cut it out. I'm thinking about leaving them in various places in the backyard so, come spring, the birds won't even have to build nests.
I learned my lesson after the last few sheds and I no longer try to flush it down the shower drain. So I've been putting it on the shower wall until I get out and can throw it in the trash.
This is one shower's worth.
Totally gross, I know.
But it makes a nice art medium. I've been working on some abstracts. Observe
I swear I am losing so much hair. I am convinced that any day now when I look in the mirror for the first time (usually around 5pm when I am expecting Dave) this is what I will see...
And you always wondered what I would look like with a combover.
Monday, October 29, 2007
I'M BACK!!!
I've had so many emails and comments wondering when I am going to start blogging again. Well, I figured with having a new baby, homeschooling a first-grader, parenting two additional toddlers, keeping my house in showing condition, washing mountains of laundry and keeping in touch with an ever-traveling husband, I'd share the hours of leftover time with you.
So, I had the baby. August 24th. Yep, that was almost 4 weeks early. Thank God. And castor oil. Just kidding. I did the castor oil with Toots and it was a little scary because even though I was officially overdue, she was a little undercooked. But Superboy knew Mommy was descending quickly into end-of-pregnancy hell and decided to come out. I'm thinking the involuntary groans were annoying him. So here are the obligatory stats: Baby Boy, 6lbs even (my 2nd smallest), 18.5" ( I just wrote 21" and had to go look it up. I'm so bad).
I birthed at home, again. I had 17 hours of labor (the longest yet for me), but not too painful. I really started to get annoyed and asked my midwife for a cohosh tincture. I went into the shower and the contractions really picked up. I didn't make it back to my bedroom, and Superboy was born in the bathroom with all of us (Dave and I, two midwives, three siblings) crowded in. It was pretty amazing.
He is really a Super baby. He is the easiest little man and we couldn't be more blessed. He looks just like Asker and Clam and has the middle-aged man hair going on just like they did. I'll edit with pictures when I get around to uploading them.
Well, it was a busy summer and have I got some stories to tell!!!
Sunday, March 04, 2007
Lady Lazarus
I set out tonight to write my birth story. Well, not my birth story. My memories of that are dark and clouded, and knowing my mother's memory issues, I'm guessing I remember more than she.
Anyway, I planned on sharing the lovely experiences that were my last two births. Surrounded by family, in my own home, with a caring midwife; those births were wonderful. I laughed through labor, silently transitioned and effortlessly pushed out new life. Something like that, anyway. My second and third births were wonderful and I'm hoping number four will be the same. If I reach into the blocked memory vault, however, I'm forced to bring out birth number one.....
In 2001, when I found out I was expecting my first child, I was completely unprepared. We had just moved to another state, were living with my mother-in-law and we both had new jobs. Although we had been previously, we had actually stopped trying to conceive the month I got pregnant. Typical. Although I was excited, I was pretty apprehensive.
Since I never do anything halfway (except housework), I threw myself into pregnancy. I read the entire "What to Expect/Fear/Envy When You are Expecting" in the first week. I decided immediately that I would be having an all-natural, no intervention pregnancy. My child would not be coming into the world full of drugs. And I told everyone I knew exactly that. I cannot imagine the eye-rolling that went on behind my back. (Epi-moms, keep reading, that obnoxious woman is dead).
Nine months quickly progressed and my birth plan was written and re-written. I had a great group of midwives and planned the birth at a local hospital. I was due the day before Thanksgiving, 2001, but Thanksgiving Day came and went. I stuffed myself as normal and went to bed praying that God would take the octopus inside out. Soon. Before I used a coat hanger and broke my own water. (Only 19 months later would I discover the joys of castor oil.)
I awoke that Friday around 3:30 am with my first contraction. Now I had been through the Bradley classes. I had seen the three stages of labor nicely charted with accompanying pictures. The first stage of labor had the smiley faced/walking woman. She was happy to be in labor. She was experiencing tightening, but not pain. Apparently, I slept through that stage. My first contraction felt like my uterus was ripping itself from the rest of my body. I had no question as to whether or not I was in labor. I knew.
Now part of my perfectly typed, three-paged birth plan was the intent to stay at home as long as possible. I am 1) controlling and 2) not very social. The idea of being stuck in a bed hooked to machines having people who didn't know my middle name touching me was absolutely appalling. I am on the verge of a panic attack as I type this just thinking of that possibility. So, determined not to rush to the hospital only to be sent back home, I settled in. I took a bath, rocked in the rocking chair and timed contractions. Timing contractions is the most pointless activity ever. I have notebooks filled with the exact timing of my first eight hours of labor. It meant absolutely nothing, but it gave me something to do.
When my husband awoke a few hours later, we re-read the birth plan, checked the bags and waited some more. Now, this whole time, I was having incredibly intense contractions. In my subsequent two pregnancies, I did not experience contractions as painful as those until the very end. Somehow, during the course of pregnancy, I had decided that moaning was to be my outlet. I would start with a low humming sort of moan at the beginning of the contraction. As the pain grew in intensity, my humming turned to gutteral moaning. It sounded really horrendous, but it worked. It gave me something to focus on and I was able to tune out everything else. Poor Dave was so helpful and eager, but I wanted nothing to do with him. When I knew a contraction was starting, I wanted his hands off of me and his mouth closed.
Finally around noon, after asking me for several hours to call my midwife, I gave in. I had two major contractions while I was on the phone and she told me I might want to think about coming in or I would be calling the pothead upstairs to help. Walking to the truck was hell. I had spent the last nine hours mostly on my hands and knees rocking. Now, much farther progressed, trying to walk during contractions was no good. And once we were in the truck, I truly became possessed. I remember screaming at Dave to hurry and then yelling at him for driving so fast over the speed bumps. No wonder he's not shown up at any of the other births.
When we got to the hospital, somehow Jenni kicked in and I got down to business. I insisted on having a natural-childbirth friendly nurse to assist me. Thankfully, a nurse who was training to be a midwife was on duty. She listened to my directives (ahem, orders) and patiently read the birth plan. She was wonderfully patient even though I'm sure I was rather obtuse.
When my midwife checked me, I was 7 cm!! I was so relieved. I thought our little boy (we had found out) would be out within an hour. I was so wrong. I didn't want to be constantly monitored, so my nurse would intermittently check me. I was able to wear my own nightgown and drink when I needed. But I just wasn't progressing. After several more hours and no more dilation, my midwife asked if I wanted to have my water broken. Defenses down and not really caring, I agreed. Had I realized the level of hell to which I was about to descend, I would have begged for the needle. The really big one that goes in your back.
As soon as she broke my water, I went into transition, and the contractions intensified to a level that I have never, thank God, experienced since. They were right on top of one another and literally brought me out of the rocking chair I was in. My moaning turned to screaming and I felt like I was going to die. If I had even a tiny break in between them, I could mentally prepare and get ahead of them. But when they were back to back, I lost all focus.
During the previous few hours of no progress, Dave had been back and forth between me and our waiting families. At some point as I was transitioning, he came back into the birthing room. But he didn't enter quietly and respectfully. Oh no, he came in laughing and talking like nothing in the world was happening that required anything less than pure mirth. It was at that moment that Satan himself entered my body. I rose out of that chair and screamed, "HOW DARE YOU COME IN HERE LAUGHING? SHUT UP. I'M IN PAIN!!!!!!" My eyes were bulging, my arms were flailing and I was, apparently, two feet off the ground.
"Out of the ash, I rise with my red hair, and I eat men like air."
Actually, I don't remember much of that part, but because Dave loves to tell the story so often, I'm including his version.
A few minutes later, I declared to my midwife that I was pushing. I didn't plan to push. I didn't even particularly want to push. But I was pushing none the less. Now, at this point, most women would be on the hospital bed offering a good view and easy access. But I looked at that bed and thought, "there is no way." Have you ever noticed how a hospital bed is, like, seven feet off the ground? There was no way I could climb up there. I declared that I planned on delivering on the floor, my midwife grabbed some underpads and we were off.
I started pushing, but at some point, she noticed the baby's heart rate had decreased. It was enough of a concern that they called a doctor into the room. I will never forget the look on his face when he walked in and saw me on the floor. It was priceless.
After a few pushes, little Asker was born, perfect heart rate and a head full of black hair. Dave had planned on catching him, so he was already gloved up. After the baby was born, Dave pulled off the bloody gloves and presumptuously leaned over to the Doctor.
"Doc, can you hand me another pair of Large gloves? Thanks."
He handed Dave the gloves, gave us both a shake of the head and took off. I'm sure he was wishing those natural childbirth freaks who lay on the floor and scream so loudly they scare everyone else would just go birth at home.
Overall, it was a wonderful experience in that I was able to do what I had wanted to do. It was so incredibly painful, I admit. I have never since, and never again will, judge a woman by her childbirth options. Drugs are wonderful, I'm sure.
I have been blessed with two very easy labors and deliveries since Asker's birth. I have loved the comfort (and control!) of birthing at home. But I have learned that every birth is different, every mom is different and although God is present at every birth, Satan attends a few too!
Saturday, February 10, 2007
To The Dump, To The Dump, To The Dump, Dump, Dump
I am free. It is Saturday morning and I am free. Dave took the kids (all of them!) to the dump. I know a trip to the landfill may not be your idea of fun, but to a 5, 3 and 2 year old, it is so cool. They get to watch trucks and tractors, yell at seagulls and complain about stinky smells. Whoo-hoo.
Actually, I got to go to the dump a few weeks ago, too. Dave and I were on our way to get our kitchen cabinets and we needed to empty the trailer. So, off to the landfill we all went. On the few previous occasions I've ventured into trash land, I've stayed in the truck and watched. But this time, Dave really needed my help. Not having remembered to wear my overalls and work boots, I decided to be creative so as not to get dump stink on my shoes and clothes.
Dave had backed our Suburban with the trailer attached into the dumping ground, so had I opened the door and walked behind the truck, I would have been ankle deep in mud and filth. Instead, I climbed over the top of the truck and balanced my way around the trailer until I could stand on a piece of cardboard and help unload. I thought it quite ingenious. As I glanced at my surroundings, however, I realized I had caused quite a commotion.
I'm quite sure the dump men had never before seen a woman. It was like time was standing still. The man in the front-end loader was staring at me, cigarette dangling, wondering where this wind-whipped red-headed goddess had come from. The dump truck next to me was whining and grinding, waiting for the trashboy to take his hand off the lowering mechanism. All around us, tractor trailer guys were grinning and waving. I demurely lowered my head and started shoveling with all my might.
After we had gotten back into the truck (had to climb back over of course), Dave turned to me. "You put on quite a show back there." I smiled to myself. Nothing like a trip to the dump to make a thirty-something mother-of-three feel sexy again.
Saturday, January 20, 2007
New Year's Resolutions Re-Visited
I have......
Taken my vitamins every day.
Let my children play unsupervised (come to think of it, they've been in the bathtub for a really long time now. No noises......uh-oh)
Since they insist on sleeping on top of me, I don't need to check their breathing
Daddy is helping with the Halloween candy
I've taken to punching the dog. Feels much better.
I said "freakin'" about 6 minutes into 2007.
I've answered my cell phone 2 times so far this year.
"Grumpy butt" is my new phrase of endearment.
I'm smiling more often!
Not sure if I've said "yes" very much
I've definitely been praying for my kids. Perhaps not the right things, but praying nonetheless.
5 year olds can be really grown up.
Not even thinking about changing the hair.
I've discovered if I correct strangers' grammar under my breath, it is still just as satisfying.
I have not read any Britney Spears' articles. I have no idea whether or not she found her panties.
We already went on our first quarter date.
Sneakers? What are those?
I'm letting my children be exactly who God made them to be......putty in my hands.
My checkbook was last balanced 4 days ago. Doing ok. Not going to hyperventilate. Can survive without knowing my exact...correct....to-the-penny balance.
And lastly.......dum, dum, da, dum......I am prego!!!
Friday, January 19, 2007
Saturday, December 30, 2006
My New Year's Resolutions
I will.....
I will take my vitamins every day.
I will let my children play, unsupervised, for at least five minutes daily.
I will go an entire night without checking to see if they are breathing.
I will let my children finish their Halloween candy before next Halloween.
I will not kick the dog.
I will stop saying "freakin'"
I will answer my cell phone. (for you, honey)
I will not say "you little piece of poop" to my kids when they anger me.
I will smile more often.
I will say "yes" more often.
I will pray for my kids every day.
I will be the grown-up.
I will, perhaps, get my hair professionally cut. Maybe. Probably not, but there is a slight chance. Nope, changed my mind.
I will not correct the grammar of anyone who has not been birthed from my body or who does not share my bed.
I will not read any articles that contain the words "Britney Spears" in them.
I will go on a date with my husband at least four times (we should be able to do quarterly)
I will buy a pair of sneakers.
I will let my children be who God made them to be, not who I want them to be.
I will not balance my checkbook every day. Perhaps not even every other day. Maybe, I'll even go a whole week!
I will add another child to my family. Adoption, biological or black market. It's going to happen.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Who Am I?
I am Jenni.
I am 32 years old.
I am wife to Dave.
I am in love with him.
I am sometimes surprised that two people can still be in love after 9 years and 4 pregnancies.
Actually, I am surprised that people can be in love after 1 pregnancy.
I got married when I was 19.
I got divorced when I was 23.
I married Dave 3 weeks later.
I am mommy to Asker, Toots, Clam and Superboy.
I homeschool my kids.
I live in a mid-Atlantic state where we have all 4 seasons.
I like Autumn the best.
I am an insomniac.
I can't remember the last time I slept for more than 4 straight hours. Seriously
I dropped out of college 6 credits shy of my degree.
I am afraid to have my hair professionally cut.
I am constantly flashing back to my one and only haircut experience in the 7th grade.
I am the best cooker (according to Asker).
I am a whole foods junkie.
I am also a salt junkie.
I am a Christian.
I am not sure if that should be capitalized.
I am a lover of books and a despiser of television.
I am sure that there is laundry to be done.
I use cloth diapers.
If I didn't use cloth diapers, there would still be laundry to be done.
I love to smell my kids' feet.
I really love to smell my husband's armpits.
My kids think smelling armpits is normal behavior.
I have freckles on my lips and eyelids.
I always considered my sister my best friend until this last year.
Now, I consider Dave as my best friend.
But my sister is a close second.
I don't eat cheese.
I think it smells like dirty feet.
If it smelled like men's armpits, I might eat it.
Almost every single article of clothing in my wardrobe is black, brown or denim.
I have one pair of pink socks.
They have pigs sticking out of the heels.
My mother and father are still married.
My father is an author.
Je parle francais.