Cracking myself up...

You would think with the number of words that pass into my ears and out my mouth on a daily basis, I would have plenty to write down here.  I actually think in what I consider “posts”, but by the time my hiney sees a flat surface, all those cleverly concise thoughts have completely ‘poofed’ right out of my head.

Today, for instance, was full of hapless happenings.

Here I go again – down on myself… if only I was smarter, if only I could remember to carry around those 3×5 cards to jot my notes and thoughts on.  I did think of it, actually, but then realized I was wearing clothes with no pockets.  and my cell phone was already in one side of my bra.  and I didn’t want to get the index card all sweaty and moist.  and the pen was pokey.

Today started out as most of our Sundays do.  Slightly stressful because we’re SUPPOSED TO RELAX.  I’ve always been rebellious of ‘supposed to’s’ and that expectation alone makes it nearly impossible for me to relax.   Maybe I shouldn’t drink 3 cups of coffee on a Sunday morning.  There’s that tell-tale smart coming through again…

I cooked customized breakfasts for almost everyone  -  egg whites and turkey bacon for the Babe, eggs and regular bacon for Punk, cereal and toast for Z and Kenz and Saylor (S came over Saturday afternoon – I needed him to stay ’cause Bay was at a b’day party sleepover and it felt wrong not having that extra kid there.)  N isn’t here this weekend – they’re painting the new house and, I’m sure, getting very excited for the permanent move there.

After breakfast, I cleaned the kitchen and closed it.  I wish I had a roll-down door that REALLY closed it, but saying (yelling) “KITCHEN’S CLOSED!” will have to do for now.

By 11am, I had done practically nothing else except nag, clean, drink coffee, start laundry, talk to Babe, surf the net, answer emails, check fb, text Bay to see if she was ready to be picked up…. which she was, so….

C, Kenz and I piled in Babe’s truck and drove down the road, through the gate and off to the b’day girl’s house.  B said it was the best sleepover EVER.

Kenz and I were still to stunned to speak, after what we had witnessed making the left turn at the store.   What B thought was unhappiness about seeing her was just K and I processing the why’s and wherefore’s and OMG’s of what we saw.

Of course we had to go back the same way and this time we had to stop and document.  Not out of any sort of disrespect, but pure curiosity.

Kenz looked at me and said wryly “you know you live in the country when…..”

I’ll get into my opinions of coyotes and what I really think about the above photo at a later date.  Maybe.

We all recovered from our shock.  After seeing what we had seen, Bay understood our expressions.

Because I’m a parent, I think that hard work of some sort should accompany or precede or follow any sort of fun had by one of my offspring.  They can’t go have a sleepover and cake and hamburgers and more cake at 1am and laugh and dance and play volleyball in the moonlight and not suffer – at least a little bit!!

So I put B to work.  Lamb area, chicken area, tidy up!  Put your lamb bin away!  Put that plate back in the house!  Why is there a plate out here?!  And tupperware!  This is disgusting!  Its irresponsible!  Pick up that hose!  What? There’s red ants on it?!  Then move faster!!  Move faster than the ants! Stomp your feet!  They don’t like that – Don’t just stand there!!

After I had done a good deal of yelling and felt as though she had suffered and paid for the cake I didn’t get to eat…. I let her go inside.

I was feeling cleansed and inspired after whipping a few things into shape, so I went to the barn and got the weed whacker.  There were a few ‘big ones’ that were bugging me.  I felt on top of the world.  I kept thinking to myself things such as “man, I’m such a hard worker… I always knew I had this in me… I’m the coolest chick ever.  Look at me in my aviator sunglasses and muckers.  I don’t care about outward appearances, I just like getting stuff DONE.  Yeah, baby…. I can fill this sucker with mixed gas and start it – just watch me.  Babe had to help me ACTUALLY start it ’cause I simply couldn’t figure out the stupid switch, but after that, it was all ME.  I slung the strap over my shoulder and off I went.  Babe’s “what are you doing??” pleadings going unheeded by this self-sufficient me.

Weeds literally bowed to my bad girl attitude.  I swung this orange and black side-kick like I knew what was what.  If anyone saw me, they would’ve been impressed.  It wasn’t as easy as I had originally thought as the hour progressed, however, but as sweat dripped down my back and face and I flinched as bits of plant, rock and grass stung my arms and legs…I wasn’t about to give up on my goal of getting stuff DONE.

And…that’s when my ‘sidekick’ betrayed me by literally SLICING into a pipe near the lamb pen.   Water started spraying everywhere…  I desperately looked around for a shut off valve, no luck.

Walking into the house to get Babe was excruciating.  ”ummm….babe….”.  Trying to sound confident and contrite at the same time.  Trying to sound nonchalant… not wanting the panic to show through… or the deflated pride.

Babe to the rescue.  Away from his relaxing Sunday of baseball and snuggling with our offspring.  Off to help his damsel in distress… or should I say stressful damsel…

Chagrined, I went in the house to spend a waterless afternoon.

Once the glue had dried, we were able to turn the water back on to the house and dinner was made, dishes were washed, baths were given, pride was restored.

I am now sitting in bed with Babe, writing this out and watching a horridly funny hbo show.

So, that was my first try at blogging.

xo