Father’s Day.

Parenting is a funny thing.

Sometimes you are on top of the world. It’s smooth sailing, everyone is getting along and acting like decent people.

Mid-blink it has all changed and the kids are trying to outscream each other while throwing poorly aimed punches…and sometimes rocks. (True story)

It takes teamwork to do this.

A combination of my free-spirited (some call it messy) personality, our strong willed wild girls and a few other factors leaves me craving stability.

For the last decade and a half (if you count dating) Lynn has been my reliable source of reason.

The girls worship the ground he walks on. A sharp glance from him accomplishes more than my loudest mom-bellow. (Don’t deny it, you’ve yelled at your kids before too)

Right now the three of them are crammed on a 4-Wheeler and are off checking cows in this 91degree humid heat. You could not pry one of the kids off that 4-wheeler with a stick. It’s the highlight of their week…and I suspect it is the highlight of Lynn’s week too.

He’s a good husband. He is honest and dependable, and the hardest worker I’ve ever met. He’s funny too, when he will quit thinking long enough to have a conversation.

We are happy despite the fact that our strong natures collide at fairly regular intervals. Sometimes he’s wrong, sometimes I am. More often than not, it is me that is wrong but DON’T TELL HIM THAT. Maybe we both are a little lot stubborn. That might be where C1 & C1 get their tenacity.

We are given few gifts that last a long time in this life. Lynn is mine and in turn the girls as well.

Thanks for being an awesome Daddy Lynn. I love you. Happy Father’s Day.

June finally

Between Three Waters

It’s been a minute since I blogged.

The entire month of May is crazy hectic and absolutely exhausting for me and Lynn both.

But we’ve finally got a little room to breathe. Or at least I have, and happy Mama, happy life…or something along those lines.

The girls are growing at lightening speed. They are also flexing their strong wills, testing me and each other.

I know they will need that someday, but I might have threatened to sell Caroline to the circus today as the “girl who never stops talking sideshow”.

Probably not my proudest parenting moment.

It’s probably not too out of character for me because she laughed uproariously slapped her knee and launched into another verbose and loud story. (What kid slaps their knee? I thought that was reserved for the 65+ crowd)

Caroline is old enough to hang with the farmers all day now. Although…

View original post 132 more words

June finally

It’s been a minute since I blogged.

The entire month of May is crazy hectic and absolutely exhausting for me and Lynn both.

But we’ve finally got a little room to breathe. Or at least I have, and happy Mama, happy life…or something along those lines.

The girls are growing at lightening speed. They are also flexing their strong wills, testing me and each other.

I know they will need that someday, but I might have threatened to sell Caroline to the circus today as the “girl who never stops talking sideshow”.

Probably not my proudest parenting moment.

It’s probably not too out of character for me because she laughed uproariously slapped her knee and launched into another verbose and loud story. (What kid slaps their knee? I thought that was reserved for the 65+ crowd)

Caroline is old enough to hang with the farmers all day now. Although it completely wipes her out.

Claire is not ready for that but still prefers the farm over everything else.

They are wild children, reminiscent of the feral “dog boy child” with their shrieks and climbing and leaping. And then, when I least expect it they switch gears and become polite and proper society girls and demand everyone around them use polite manners.

They are happy and loving and are thriving.

Lynn and his dad baled some 340 some bales of hay today. He sent me this picture when he got done. Quite the office view.

He is the hardest worker I know, and I hope we can teach the girls that strong work ethic.

Anyway that’s where we are now. Glad May is over, and happy it’s June.

Thanks for reading friends.

Bedtime tears

Everyone at my house has been tired today.

We did not do a ton of stuff… picked up the house, bought vegetable plants and seeds, attended a birthday party complete with face painting

Picked up our “click list” groceries, then the girls followed Lynn planting sweet corn, supervising.

Next we planted onion sets, and tomatoes, peppers, as well as cilantro, oregano and rosemary.

When I write it all out it seems like more…so maybe it’s ok to be tired after all.

When I tucked the girls in at bedtime I noticed Claire’s face was wet with tears.

Me: Claire what is the matter, do you feel ok?

Claire: I am sad because I don’t want to go to sleep. Maybe I should stay up so I can be happy??

Then she batted her eyes at me pitifully and broke into a grin.

Less than 5 minutes later she was asleep.

Silly kid.

Scrappy sisters

Y’all know I love my kids.

Caroline is smart, organized and amazes me with the things she notices. (I never timed commercials on TV. But she does. Did y’all know that the Andy Griffith show has commercials exactly 15 minutes into it?)

Claire is snuggly and polite and constantly compliments me. It’s like I have a little cheerleading squad following me around. That is pretty cool.

But. Oh. My. Goodness.

They have been fighting non stop. Arguing about every little thing. Sometimes it comes to wrassling and then someone comes wailing to me. That someone is usually Claire, as sassy as she can be she refuses to fight back…unless there is a stick. She will/has totally hit Caroline with a stick…then it’s Caroline doing the wailing

Mommyyyyyyyy – she won’t let me use the pink crayon!

Mommyyyyyyyy – she’s not sharing the paper!

Mommyyyyyyyy – she tried to wear my socks!

It’s enough to drive a sane person batty. And I’m not sure I was sane to start with.

The craziest part of it is, if I separate them, within minutes each is hearbroken missing her sister. And the tears and wailing start again. I miss sissy! If only I could play with my sister I would be so happy! We will never fight again!

I’ve totally tried to teach them positive conflict resolution. None of it has ever been heard.

So waving the white flag on teachable moments and clinging to my lucidity my solution is typically to send them outside, where their shrieks and complaining are muffled by the great outdoors. Usually I ban them from the back porch where I perch to survey them and only intervene if bodily harm looks imminent.

But they are learning conflict resolution, right? Right?!

But at the end of the day when I’m at my wit’s end, they say their bedtime prayers.

Caroline says the prayer, and Claire with her eyes closed puts her hand on her sister and prays with her. It’s a glimmer of hope that someday, the things we are teaching them might sink in.

Maybe.

I think my next step will be to make them wear a big “get along” shirt and do things together every time they fight. We’ve not done that in a while.

Y’all pray for me!

Piece of junk

It’s no surprise to anyone who knows me that I am terrible with machines. Copy machines, lawn mowers, all weedeaters… whatever. They just quit working when I come around.

It’s not my fault! I swear! Machines just die when I come close. I am innocent of any wrongdoing. It must be my elecromagnetic field or something. That’s a real thing, right?

Needless to mention, if there is an expensive thing to drive…I don’t get to drive it.

The absolute worst is the terrible old 4-wheeler. On a good day it splutters and jerks with the farmers. With me it’s much worse.

Today I was delivering lunches and rather than good old fashioned healthy walking, my well meaning but terribly wrong husband insisted I take the piece-of-junk … I mean 4-wheeler. It never, never, never goes well when I take this 4-wheeler.

Lunchtime!

I don’t know why I didn’t argue.

I get to the bottom of the hill to drop off a lunch and BAM it jerks to a stop while simultaneously dying.

I tried, and tried and tried to restart it. NOTHING. It’s much easier to walk up a hill than push a broke down junk heap up.

I so wish I’d walked.

My father-in-law came over, punched the same starter button I had been working on what seemed like forever and the wretched, evil thing sprang to life.

It makes me grouchy to have to be rescued. Even worse when it makes me seem inept.

Off I went, halfway up the steepest hill and BAM the thing jerked to a dead stop again….but THIS TIME it started furiously rolling backwards. Oh fun.

I squeezed the hand brakes as hard as my hands would let me. Nothing.

Oh yeah, that’s right. This glorious chariot has non-working brakes. Fabulous.

I was by this point picking up speed backwards down the hill.

So I cut the front wheels to the right as fast as I could.

After precariously leaning over to the left and almost tipping down the hill the awful scrap-worthy thing stopped.

Ugh. I wished I could just get off and leave it in the field. A HORSE would never do this to me. Neither would my feet. Definitely never driving this worthless trash again.

Despite being an office-working, nearing middle age, deadfully out of shape, mother of two I’m decently strong so I tried to push it up the hill. Big fat NOPE. I didn’t even move it in the direction I wanted to go.

Drat.

Wish I’d walked.

Finally, I got it started. I gave the rickety-old-bucket-of-rust heck and got back to the barn as fast as I could. The motor jerked and sputtered the entire time.

I silently dared it to die, like Arnold Swartzenagger I challenged it to “Go ahead, make my day”. I wished I could make it explode like on the movies so I’d never have to use it again. The farmers wouldn’t be thrilled with me about that though.

Lynn was walking my direction with a smirk on his face. HE KNEW. When I got closer to him, I could hear him chuckle.

Glad I could be of some entertainment at least. Must be boring driving the tractors in circles for hours spreading fertilizer.

Not that I’m ever asked to drive a tractor…I wonder why?!?

Next time? I’m walking. Or riding a horse. For sure I won’t be taking the 4-wheeler.

March 11th 2018

We helped Lynn feed cattle today. After all the rain it is muddy. So muddy.

Claire has established her interest in tractor driving. Sometimes she forgets where’s she’s going though and Lynn has to get it back on track.

At one point neither Lynn nor Claire had their hands on the steering wheel and panicking Caroline yanked the wheel screeching “nobody is driving the tractor!” The tractor jolted and bounced and Lynn steadied it.

Caroline is thrilled to get out and take net off the bales of hay. I’m pretty sure her goal is to get as muddy as possible – and she is very good at it.

She tried to climb the hay…but had to stop when it was time to feed it.

After that it was a good day for a very long Sunday afternoon nap, especially since we lost an hour of sleep due to daylight savings time.

Wild child

After work I enjoy being outside. The girls do too.

Current they are playing with dirt, worms, sticks and a dog.

And it’s chaos.

Lots of yelling and mentions of “worm poop”

Very unladylike.

Yet very appropriate.

I am happy to have girls that are girly and wear flower crowns and ball gowns and love glitter.

I am also happy to have girls that play with worms and get actual dirt under their gnawed off fingernails. They smell of dog every evening when they come in.

Both things are good, and today I’m thankful they are both.

Well, until I start doing that laundry with ground in stains!

Have a good week friends.

Pot-head

Due to snow in the forecast, school was cancelled Friday. No snow arrived, but schools were closed.

I took some leave from work and Caroline helped me clean the house. Claire opted to go to daycare which was open.

I asked Caroline to unload the dishwasher, and went to scrub down the bathroom.

From the next room I hear her laugh. She yelled “Guess what Mom?!”

Me “Whattttt?”

(Because at this point she had wanted me to check/praise her progress a minimum of 6 times already on the dish unloading. Which I had dutifully done. But my enthusiasm for praise was waning)

Caroline cackled “I’m a POT-HEAD”

She had my attention now. That’s not a phrase she should know.

I scurried into the kitchen and saw this…

Whew!

She was talking about an actual POT on her HEAD….not making a reference to drug culture.

The innocence of children.

Have a good week friends.

Create a website or blog at WordPress.com

Up ↑