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Showing posts with label Anne. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Anne. Show all posts

Wednesday, February 6, 2013

Wordless Wednesday

It's been a while since I've drawn anything, but I got the itch over the weekend, so I drew this picture of my goat, Tibbett.














































What hobbies do you have that have taken a backseat to life?

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Read it.
Like it?
Follow it.
Please?
Thanks.
(Follow my blog by adding yourself as a follower with Google Friends Connect in my sidebar!)


***************************


Don't forget, I will love you forever if you throw me a vote on Top Mommy Blogs. You know the drill by now, don't you? Just click the juggling chick and you've voted. You can vote every day till like, forever.

Top Mommy Blogs - Click To Vote!

Thanks!



***************

Take a look at my full hoppin' schedule in my sidebar, and come join the fun!

*************

Rudeness disclaimer:

I love all your comments,
I read every one!
But I can't hit 'reply',
I've no time for fun.
Please don't judge me,
Please don't hate.
If you have a question that just can't wait,
Send me an email at farmbeachgal@yahoo.com,
And I'll answer right back because I'm, you know, the Mom.

Thursday, January 17, 2013

I-Need-Therapy-Thursday: Birthdays Aren't Always a Party


Birthdays come and birthdays go.

Some rock.

Some are ...meh.

I just celebrated my 48th this past weekend, and it was pretty nice. Quiet. Sweet gifts from everyone. Out to dinner. So, you know, no cooking.

It put me in mind, as recent birthdays always do, of my worst birthday EVER.

It took place four years ago, a mere four days after James and Julie arrived home.

Please to read....

























I like to think I don't need a big fuss over my birthday. If I get a couple cards, a call or two, if my kids remember to tell me happy birthday, I'm a pretty happy gal. And if I don't have to cook dinner. But my birthday yesterday had to be the worst in my ever-expanding history.



You're probably thinking, how can she complain about her BD when she had the two best gifts anyone could hope for arrive a mere 4 days earlier? Well let me paint you the picture of how my day unfolded .....

Poor Me ...

To start, Fred called me from work the night before to say he had to take an unexpected call night. Since he usually initiates card-making with the kids, they didn't think of it on their own, so I awoke on my BD morning feeling a tad not remembered. No cards from Fred or the kids, and most of the morning getting the kids ready for school went by before Rosie, bless her, realized what day it was. At that point I got lots of sweet hugs and well-wishes and my spirits lifted.

Midnight Sun Has Set

However, later in the morning, things took a serious downturn. I went out to the barn to check on my pony. I had been concerned about him lately. He had been dropping a lot of weight, despite my efforts at preparing a slurry of warm water, equine senior feed, dried beet pulp and corn oil. He was pretty old, and his teeth were in really bad shape, so it was hard for him to get the nutrition in. He also had something else going on, which we couldn't pinpoint, and the bloodwork we had drawn months earlier hadn't shown anything. So when I got out there, I found him down on the ground, and he couldn't get up. I covered him up and went in to call the vet. He arrived about 1/2 hour later and examined him, but couldn't find anything obvious, but he said he saw evidence that his liver was failing him. He said we needed to act pretty quickly, as he was in distress. I had to make a decision whether to start treating him aggressively or put him down. Since I knew he was old (around 30) and I knew that whatever we could "fix" on an emergency basis wouldn't change the fact that his teeth were so bad he couldn't take in enough nutrition, I decided to have him put to sleep. So there I stood in the cold on my birthday morning as the vet shaved Midnight's neck, found the vein, and injected the mixture that would ease him into a peaceful death. The knowledge that you're "doing the right thing" and "easing his suffering" somehow fails to make you feel better as you watch you beloved little pony of 15 years die before your eyes.

From Bad to Worse

But as bad as it was watching him die, it was possibly even worse when it came time to get him on the trailer. I had made a few phone calls and was able to find someone to do the job of trailering him to New Bolton Vet Hospital, where they would do a necropsy. Since the trailer was pretty big, it was determined that the best way to get him on the rig would be to take him through the backyard and up the driveway to get him to the trailer. How do you get a dead pony through the backyard and up the driveway? You put him on a tarp and drag him, that's how. So I'll say it again, on the morning of my birthday, with the help of two other women, I am dragging my pony's body across my driveway and out to the street. Of course James and Julie are there for the whole thing. They didn't have a chance to get to know him, but I think they were sad that I was sad. Sweet Julie gave me lots of hugs throughout the day and James tried to cheer me up in his own way, too. Later I did my best to communicate to them to not tell the kids. I didn't want them telling the kids as they got off the bus, "Po-nee" and then pantomiming his death by rolling their eyes back in their heads and lolling their tongues out. They finally got what I was trying to tell them, to keep it "secret" and let Mama tell.

Running the Hamster Wheel

I finally settled enough to give them a little "schkola" time to work on some English. That helped pass the time for me. Once the kids got home, they all played for while till it was time for our crazy-busy afternoon/evening schedule. I took Rosie and Daniel to CCD, then got home and heated up leftovers ("leftovers, whaaaaaaah!") for the four at home (Fred still wasn't home yet). An hour later, I was ready to leave to pick up Rosie and Daniel. The plan had been, I would take Rosie to our once-a-month Mother-Dtr Book Club at the school, and Daniel would come with and just hang out. Fred would take Patrick to the school for the Geography Bee he was in, and he would have the rest of the crew with him. However, when I told James and Julie I was leaving, that they would go with Papa to the school, Julie was very upset. She didn't throw a tantrum or anything, but she seemed quite traumatized by the idea of me leaving w/o her. So I changed the plans last minute and took James and Julie with me. I picked up Rosie and Daniel, got them some Mickey D's on the way to the school, and got there without further incident. Everyone at book club was delighted by the two new additions to my family and I happily and proudly answered all their questions. Julie seemed a bit overwhelmed but did fine, sitting by me in the circle during the meeting, while James and Daniel played with blocks in the back of the room. When the meeting ended, some of the kids were drawing on the chalkboard and white board while the Moms gathered up their things. Coat in hand, I had told my kids to erase what they had drawn and come along so we could go down the hall to see how Patrick was doing in his geography bee. At that moment, Rosie came screaming across the room, eyes shut tight, saying James had sprayed dry erase board cleaner in her eyes. I dropped everything and ran her to the sink where we started flushing her eyes. I asked someone to grab the bottle and read me what it said to do if it gets in the eyes. Poor Rosie is crying, everyone is fluttering around, we're both soaking wet, and I'm just thinking, Oy.  James keeps telling me in Russian he thought it was "vada".

Enough

SO after flushing her eyes for what seemed like three hours, we finally dried off a bit, gathered our things (again) and went down the hall to the auditorium. I saw Fred and gestured for him to come out so he could assess Rosie's eyes, which he said seemed OK. Julie at this point had simply had ENOUGH and was glued to my side. Rosie chose to stay so she could sit with her Poppy and watch the rest of the Bee, but I took the others and headed for home. Got everyone to brush their teeth and hit their beds, but Julie was not happy about it and kept crying. I consoled her best I could, but kept firm that it was bedtime. Then Bella pops in front of me all bright-eyed reminding me it's her night for "special reading" (each kid gets one-on-one time once a week and it was her night). Exhausted, I just about cried at this point, and told her we wouldn't be able to do it tonight, but I would try to make it up to her. So she hung her head and dragged her feet down the hallway to her room, all sad.

Light at the End of the Tunnel

Fred finally got home about 9:30 and we got the other two kids to bed, then he heated up the last of the leftovers and proceeded to eat dinner (he was pretty much starving at this point). He had a beautiful card for me and a gift card for a spa. Perfect gift or what? Then I got to relive my misery as I recounted the tale of Midnight's passing, as this was the first chance I had to tell him all day.

A Smile at the End of the Day

Finally the day was over and we headed to bed. I found a beautiful posterboard card that Rosie had lovingly made for me after the end of HER long day, and gotten anyone who was still awake to sign. She had also turned down my covers, and put my book, booklight, and reading glasses on the bed for me. So at the end of a long day filled with more downs than ups, I got into my comfy bed feeling exhausted, but also fulfilled and loved. And what more could you really want on your birthday?





Image source: swamp.org



************

Read it.
Like it?
Follow it.
Please?
Thanks.
(Follow my blog by adding yourself as a follower with Google Friends Connect in my sidebar!)


***************************


And I will thank you if you throw me a vote on Top Mommy Blogs. You know the drill by now, don't you? Just click the juggling chick and you've voted. You can vote every day till like, forever.

Top Mommy Blogs - Click To Vote!

Thanks!

***************

In case you didn't know it, I'm like the queen of blog-hoppin' lately. It's kind of like square dancing but without the dated outfits, smelly gym, and elderly caller. You can find my full schedule in my sidebar, come join the fun!


****************

Rudeness disclaimer:

I love all your comments,
I read every one!
But I can't hit 'reply',
I've no time for fun.
Please don't judge me,
Please don't hate.
If you have a question that just can't wait,
Send me an email at farmbeachgal@yahoo.com,
And I'll answer right back because I'm, you know, the Mom.

Wednesday, October 31, 2012

What's the Skinny?

Someone interviewed me.

Woot-woot-WHAT?

That's right. One Ms Tori Tarvin from 'Skinny Mom' interviewed me.
















Now, c'mon, hold the jokes. I know what you're thinkin'...

Q: Why aren't you skinny?
A: Because I loves me some donuts.

You're thinkin' that 'Skinny Mom' interviewing me is like '17' interviewing Meryl Streep.
Like 'Playboy' interviewing Mother Theresa.

Bring it. I can take it.

Hmmph.

Anyway (nose tossed haughtily in air), the interview starts off like this....


I love the fact that every week, we find a new family that virtually opens the door for us and let’s us stay awhile. This week, we are the guests of Anne. And we are lucky enough to be on a farm or as Anne has titled her blog “the Funny Farm.” Now, why is it so funny? Well, it’s not exactly a farm. By that we mean she doesn’t get up to the sound of a rooster to milk cows–there are none–or clean out stalls, or sell any of their produce. Here is why she considers her so-called “little patch of dirt” a farm:
“Because I usually have dirt under my fingernails and mud on my jeans.
Because the critters outnumber the humans by about 5 to 1.
Because we eat eggs from our chickens.
Most importantly, because it smells like a farm.”

With 6 teens and 3-4 dozen animals–and the occasional Foreign Exchange student–we can see why Anne has such a great sense of humor. This blog is chaotic and addicting to read. It’s like TLC without the commercials! There are heartfelt moments where Anne chronicles her son, James’, fight against RAD and PTSD and there are laugh out loud moments like her Mirth Mondays. Come laugh, cry and everything in between with Anne’s funny farm.


If you want to read the actual Q & A interview, click on over to Skinny Mom to read the rest.

Thanks!








Image courtesy: facialbungalow.com

Saturday, September 29, 2012

Coffee Clatch

Here's a little somethin' I posted on my old blog a while back. Thought I would dust it off and post it here....

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I have coffee with friends on Friday mornings. It's the highlight of my week, quite frankly. To talk with adults, as adults, when day in-day out you're surrounded by parasitic humans with a poopload of demands on you is a treat worth savoring.


But we haven't always enjoyed this companionship liberated from our children. In fact, when we first met, it was through our local MOMS Club. We all wore similar shell-shocked expressions as we shuffled through the meeting room of the church, one whining toddler clinging to our legs, one screaming infant slung across a hip, our boobs swollen and sore, bags under our sleepless eyes, but yet with a Barbie smile plastered across our faces that said to the world, "Holy crap, I'm really enjoying this!"

Truth be told, our conversations today still fall under the same categories they did so many years ago, but the subtext has changed.....

2012  (Sipping coffee) Hey Sarah, how's it goin'? Oh my God, I love your new bag...
2000 (Wiping up juice)....diaper bag. Where'd you get it?
2000 Oh, thanks, you like it? I got it at Babies-R-Us.....
2012  ....TJ Max. It's kinda small but it holds what I need. Look, it's got
this cool little compartment that holds my i-pod.....
2000 .....poopy diapers. And I love the size. It was the biggest one there.


2000 Hey Theresa, will you be coming over for Story and Craft on Thurs morning...
2012  ....wine and cheese on Fri night? NOOOO, leave the kids at home, have you lost your friggin' mind....
2000 .....day planner? Don't you remember? Third Thurs of every month is Story and Craft. Second Thurs is Gymboree and fourth Thursday is Toddler Time at the library.



2000 Hey guys, I was just at a Creative Play demonstration and I bought the most fantastic thing for Johnny. It's designed for babies 6 - 9 mths of age and it enhances their depth perception, tracking, and gross motor coordination. I know I spent too much but I'm sure it will be worth every penny....
2012 .... of his allowance goes to video games. I used to moderate what he played more, but honestly? If he's quiet? I almost don't care if he rots his brain.


2000 Thanks for asking, it was a big hit. She just loved the princess party. I made each of the guests a princess skirt from pink tulle and they made wands and tiaras for the craft and the cake was a huge castle. They loved the pony rides, too. It's not every day a little girl turns three, right?
2012 So he's asking if it can be a boy-girl party and they wanna hang out in the basement so they can "play video games", haha. I swear he thinks I just crawled out from under a rock or something.


2000 Guess what, his tooth finally came in! We were all just so excited when...
2012  I felt around in my mouth and can finally feel all my teeth again. I'm so glad I sprung for that implant. I hated having a hole where my tooth should've been.



2012  Sue, on your shoulder. You've got some omelette...
2000 ....vomit on your shirt.







*****************


Don't forget, I will love you forever if you throw me a vote on Top Mommy Blogs. You know the drill by now, don't you? Just click the juggling chick and you've voted. You can vote every day till like, forever.

Top Mommy Blogs - Click To Vote!

Thanks!


***************

In case you didn't know it, I'm like the queen of blog-hoppin' lately. It's kind of like square dancing but without the dated outfits, smelly gym, and elderly caller.

Here's the schedule I keep:
Monday: Homestead Revival's Barn Hop and A Cat-Like Curiosity's Monday Mantras.
Tuesday: Heavenly Homemaker's Gratituesday
and Wrinkled Mommy's Tuesday Archive Link-Up
Wednesday: My Life and Kids Finding the Funny
Thursday: A Rural Journal's Rural Thursday Blog Hop
Friday: Deborah Jean's Dandelion House's Farmgirl Friday
Saturday: Camera Critter's Life With Dogs Pet Blogger Hop and Country Momma Cooks Saturday Link-Up

Since today is Saturday, that means I'm linking my post "Meat-n-Greet"
with Country Momma Cooks Saturday Link-Up, and with Camera Critter's Life With Dogs Pet Blogger Hop.
Come join the fun!

Thursday, September 20, 2012

Midweek Date for a 40-Something House Frau

Shower. Extra throughly.

Shaving.

And grooming.
*ahem*

Lotion.

Smell nice.

Good bra. Best underwear. Must match!

Nice outfit. Not dressy, but not toddlers playdate at the playground, either.
*not that I'm going to be seen wearing the clothes*

Make-up. Cover up those eyebags. Little eyeliner. Lipstick? Go for it.

Hair.

Mirror check.

All set.


















For the gynecologist.






Image courtesy: myportlandphotographer.com

****************************


Don't forget, I will love you forever if you throw me a vote on Top Mommy Blogs. You know the drill by now, don't you? Just click the juggling chick and you've voted. You can vote every day till like, forever.

Top Mommy Blogs - Click To Vote!

Thanks!




***************

In case you didn't know it, I'm like the queen of blog-hoppin' lately. It's kind of like square dancing but without the dated outfits, smelly gym, and elderly caller.

Here's the schedule I keep:
Monday: Homestead Revival's Barn Hop and A Cat-Like Curiosity's Monday Mantras.
Tuesday: Heavenly Homemaker's Gratituesday
and Wrinkled Mommy's Tuesday Archive Link-Up
Wednesday: My Life and Kids Finding the Funny
Thursday: A Rural Journal's Rural Thursday Blog Hop, and the Mommy-Brain Mixer at Two in Diapers
Friday: Deborah Jean's Dandelion House's Farmgirl Friday
Saturday: Camera Critter's Life With Dogs Pet Blogger Hop and Country Momma Cooks Saturday Link-Up

Since today is Thursday, that means I'm linking my post "Pumpkins. Bleh." with A Rural Journal's Rural Thursday Blog Hop, and "Parallel Universe" with the Mommy-Brain Mixer at Two in Diapers.



Come join the fun!





Thursday, August 30, 2012

Mind-Bloggling

I'm having a serious identity crisis. It's bad enough I don't know what kind of Mom to be from one moment to the next, I don't even know what kind of blogger to be, either.

When I joined up with Top Mommy Blogs, I had to choose a category for my blog.
This was not easy, my friend. Not easy at all.
Top Mommy Blogs - Click To Vote!

I have an adoption blog.
No, a family life blog.
Maybe I'm more of a humor blog.
No, not quite.
Special needs?
Pets, perhaps.
Stay at home? House and garden? Hobby?

I don't know, I don't KNOW, I tell you!

When I be-bop around the blogs I follow, I get confused and jealous. Everyone seems to be secure in their identities but me.

I read Nicole from Ninja Mom and I think, she's a humor writer. She has such a clever sense of humor and she's relatable and funny. I want to be like her.

But then next I read Jen from People I Want To Punch in the Throat or Kim from Let Me Start By Saying and I say to myself, I want to be irreverantly snarky and pee-your-pants funny like them. Just call it like it is and make no apologies.

Or like Allison from Motherhood, WTF? who, when she writes about the frustrations of raising her tykes, leaves me wiping a tear or two from my eyes (and perhaps my legs), and saying, yeah, I know, I KNOW!

After drying my tears of laughter, I'm on down the list to Lori from Five of My Own. She crystallizes what I feel about adoption. She moves mountains to help the orphans in this world, and I am left feeling like I want to do more. I need to do more. I WILL do more, by God!

But the second I get down off my bloggy soapbox, I read Alphamamma from Kate's Wish or Denise from Fostering a Blessing and I think, that's who I want to be. Just write about the good times and the bad, the ups and the downs, of life in a crazy family with older adopted kids, dealing with RAD and PTSD, helping others to become aware....

Then once I start feeling all introspective and home/family-centered, I read Laura from Heavenly Homemakers and think, that's it. Simple. Homemaking. Family. Spiritual. Keep it grounded, keep it soothing.

Homemaking? Home cooked meals? How about
Ree Drummond from Confessions of a Pioneer Woman? She blogs about her family, her ranch, great recipes for yummy comfort food. And she does it all while managing to be laugh-out-loud funny in a G-rated way. I want to be able to do that. You don't need to drop the F-bomb every third word to be funny! And she's got a relatively big family and lots of animals, just like me!





For that matter, so does Sam from My Barefoot Farm! And she keeps a clean blog, too! She's the consummate homemaker, she raises seven kids and milks a cow and she keeps bees and she quilts and homeschools! I want to be like HER, dammit!

But I feel like I don't always have enough going on to keep that kind of a blog full and interesting. I don't have a cow. I don't have bees. I don't homeschool. My life is so dull.

So maybe I'll be more like Roosterinn from What to Blog About and make it a mix of what's going on now, plus quaint stories of days-gone-by, and throw in a little good cookin' to boot.

But what about the humor stuff and the adoption stuff and the large family and special needs and grounded-spiritual-homemaking stuff!!???

Like a middle school girl, I don't know who I want to be. I asked this identity question once at a blog conference, and was told in a placating way, "just be yourself". But if being myself means I closely resemble Sybil in a mental line-up, I don't really know how that helps me.

Guess I'll just have to be OK with who I am, and what my blog is. It won't be all things to all people, but that's alright. I'm not all things to all people either.

I can live with it.


********


All that being said, give me a shout and let me know what it is you like to read about on my blog! I would love to know....



****************************


Don't forget, I will love you forever if you throw me a vote on Top Mommy Blogs. You know the drill by now, don't you? Just click the juggling chick and you've voted. You can vote every day till like, forever.

Top Mommy Blogs - Click To Vote!

Thanks!

***************

In case you didn't know it, I'm like the queen of blog-hoppin' lately. It's kind of like square dancing but without the dated outfits, smelly gym, and elderly caller.

Here's the schedule I keep:
Monday: Homestead Revival's Barn Hop and A Cat-Like Curiosity's Monday Mantras.
Tuesday: Heavenly Homemaker's Gratituesday
and Wrinkled Mommy's Tuesday Archive Link-Up
Wednesday: My Life and Kids Finding the Funny
Thursday: A Rural Journal's Rural Thursday Blog Hop
Friday: Deborah Jean's Dandelion House's Farmgirl Friday
Saturday: Camera Critter's Life With Dogs Pet Blogger Hop and Country Momma Cooks Saturday Link-Up

Since today is Thursday, that means I'm linking my post "What the....?" with A Rural Journal's Rural Thursday Blog Hop.


Come join the fun!

Saturday, May 5, 2012

AMNBU #165

Went down to the garage the other day to take Daniel to school, only to find I had a flat tire. Flat as a pancake. Dead as a doornail.

I'm talking, flat.

I used to change my own tires,















but I can't do it with my Yukon.

Simply can't.

You need your doctorate in engineering just to get the spare out from under the car. It involves secret compartments and special hidden keyholes and cables and safety assemblies.

So I called Triple A, not neccessarily to change the tire, but to retieve the spare.

And he came.

And he huffed and he cussed, and he....

couldn't get the tire out.

With a voice that could be mistaken for Ed Asner with a bad headcold, he let me know that some god*%#@ fool put the %&^# spare tire in backwards and the *#$! cable dropped but the ^*@# tire is jammed.

I thought about covering Daniel's ears.

I thought about asking the nice man if he couldn't watch his language around my son.

But then I thought, Daniel's 12. If he hasn't heard it on the playground by now, he needs to change schools.


So he told me he could pump up the flat and I could take it to my mechanic so he could put it on a %$@# lift to get the spare free.

"Whodyou use?"

"Bill", sez I.

He looked puzzled.

Then I realized why: according to his shirt, his cap, and his ^#$%@ truck, his name was Bill, too.

But then he had a lightbulb pull-chain moment and he asked,

"Dyou mean Bill goawn down into town there, or the one if you went up t'other road towards 1?"

God &$#!@%^& what is there, a union? The Auto Mechanics Named Bill Union?

"The one goawn down, I mean, on the way into town", I answered.

"Humph. Alright. You drive yer car 'n'I'll folluh."

Well alright then.


And that's what we did.

And once I pulled into Bill's parking lot, the first Bill gave a wave and peeled on outa there.

(do I smell a backstory?)

Bill and his minion
(I dared not ask his name)

put my car up on the lift and they were able to break through the now defunct safety assembly to get the spare, but it nearly cost them both their lives. But get it out they did, and change the tire they did, like the pros that they are.

And now I have no spare b/c the one that was flat is like, beyond repair.

Guess if this one goes flat I'll call Triple A again.

I'm sure they'll be happy to send a Bill out for me.




Throw me a vote on Top Mommy Blogs? Just one click of this button (below) and you've voted. You can vote every day!

Top Mommy Blogs - Click To Vote!

Thank you, thank you, thank you!


Image courtesy adcouncil.org



By the by, I'm taking part in The Saturday Pet Blogger Hop today


linking up with my post on Sunny's ear surgery. Check it out!



Thursday, March 22, 2012

I Am My Mother. And....

We've all done it.

"Don't run with scissors!"
And you clap your hand over your mouth the instant the words are out.

You have become your mother.

I knew it had happened to me when I told one of my kids to be sure they were wearing clean underwear in case they got hit by a truck.

What the...?

Upon further reflection, however, I've come to realize I have become not just my mother, but many women.

Remember watching the movie Sybil when you were a kid? How Sally Field had a couple dozen "personalities" living inside her, each coming out when he or she was most needed? Well, same thing here. Not to disrespect those suffering the affliction of Multiple Personality Disorder. I'm just sayin', many hands make light work of this parenting game.

Most of the personalitites I channel are Moms from TV or the movies. Some are not even Moms, but I still need them. I pull them out of my neurological wallet and channel them as the situation mandates.

I've compiled a list of those women, and I share it with you here....


1) Martha Stewart
I call on Martha anytime one of my kids has a school project due in 12 hours. With her composed assistance I am able to procure styrofoam balls, hot glue, and sequins from me arse, and help them to craft a Nobel-worthy creation.










2) Carol Brady
There's nothing about her I really need. I'll admit it: I'm jealous. She is a stay-at-home Mom of six (check) with a handsome, professional husband and a lovely home (check) with full-time domestic help (no check). I want an Alice! If I had an Alice I could float through the house with perfect make-up, nails and dress, while Alice took care of the cooking and cleaning so I could tend to Marsha's broken nose or try to discern if Greg is telling the truth about those cigarettes in his pocket.
My right arm for an Alice. My firstborn for an Alice. Seriously. Someone get me an Alice.





3) Gloria Pritchett (from Modern Family)
I wah uh kih-er bah-ee.
Sorry, I was eating a Ring Ding. Lemme try again:
I want a killer body.












4) Minnie (from The Help)
With a can of Crsico in hand, Minnie could rule the world. She could fry up a chicken, get a tangle out of someone's hair, and quiet that squeaky hinge.













5) Roseanne Connor
I sometimes need Roseanne's tell-it-like-it-is mouth, with no PC filter. Problem is, she usually shows up late and I end up telling someone off in my head on the drive home. We need to work on coordinating our timing.









6) Nurse Ratched (from One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest)
OK, not a Mom, but nevertheless. I want her cool, quiet, composure while all hell is breaking loose around her.
"Mr. Cheswick, sit down. I will answer your question when you are calm. Are you calm now, Mr. Cheswick?"







7) Shirley Partridge
I need her when it's time to get all the kids someplace. Now, the psychadelic bus helps, to be sure, but anyone who can get five kids out the door and to a gig on time has got my vote for having it all together. Plus, she can solve any of the kid's problems by singing a song. Nice, as abilities go.





8) Morticia Addams
Let's face it, she looks fabulous in black, and she runs her family smoothly, all while keeping just enough of a kooky edge about the place. Non-conformity rules!










9) Ree Drummond. Aka The Pioneer Woman. Aka PW.
Who wouldn't want a healthy dose of Ree in her mental make-up? She's the effortless homeschooling mother of four little ranch-hands and the adorable wife to one gorgeous hunk of cowboy. She writes, she cooks, she makes it all look easy. When she comes out in me, she makes me chocolate sheet cake and iced coffee in a mason jar and I love her.












Oh dear. What is this? I only have nine women on my list and that's just all lopsided and uneven and yucky. Someone please! Suggest a 10th for me. I must have 10 women in my multiple personalities file. Otherwise my OCD will throw a tantrum.











Please vote for my blog on this TMB site. Regardless of how many personalities you may have, I only need one little vote (per day). Thanks!
Just Click To Send A Vote For Us @ Top Mommy Blogs


Images courtesy: wikipedia.org, tvacres.com, eons.com, dunderbrain.wordpress.com, blackactors.net, ugo.com, trishacausley.com, reedrummond.com, imdb.com

Thursday, March 1, 2012

Surgery - check. Healing - in progress.

First came the surgery for my Carpal Tunnel Syndrome.
As I've already mentioned, easy peasy. Had it done about 10 or 12 years ago on my right hand.
I'm right-handed.
I had 2 kids in diapers and 1 hanging-from-the-ceiling-fans-preschooler.
I needed help. In so many ways.
(Thanks, Grammy!)



















Showering, however, required some skill. I had to wear this fingertip-to-shoulder plastic glove. With that glove in place, I could shower without getting my bandages wet, cut up a chicken, or birth a calf.
Sadly, there were no laboring cows about, so I was unable to test this.

















Next, the bandages came off (this past Monday).
Quite frankly, I was more than a bit nervous as the nurse cut the bandages away. What would fall out?
Hay?
Chicken feed?
Legos?
Runaway hamster?

Mercifully, there was nothing in there that shouldn't have been. My stitches were cut off, steri-strips were applied, and I got this kick-ass splint. Pretty cool, right? I know you want one. It shoots spider-webs from the wrist part if I hold my fingers like the I Love You sign and make a pfffft sound.
Not really.
Bummer.
















And now here I am today. Steri-strips have fallen by the wayside, as has a good deal of shriveled-up skin. Ick.

Still hurts some, but I can shower without the birthing glove, and do most things around the house. Still can't lift heavy things, open jars, pour feed from a 50 pound bag into a bin.

That's what God made kids for.

And if they gripe, I put my splint on and wrap 'em all up in sticky spider webs and they cry and say they won't complain the next time, they LOVE to help me out.

Then I wake up from my daydream and they're sitting there all cozy as can be with no sign of sticky spider webs.

Sigh.....























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Saturday, February 18, 2012

Carpal Tunnel (yawn)

(My apologizies for the fuzzy photo. Can't get it to focus for some reason.)

Surgery went fine yesterday. Checked in around 10, left about 12. Quick-n-dirty.

Nothin' but numb for many hours, but then the pain set in. Motrin didn't have enough kick to get me past it, but hydrocodone did. Went to sleep happy.

This morning, sadly, it seems Motrin is all I need. Ah well.

Should be unwrapped and back to normal in about a week and a half.

Thanks for the well-wishes!

Saturday, August 13, 2011

Sunday Social

I think it's high time we have us a little Sunday social meet-n-greet.
With 40+ critters and eight 2-legged types in our family, I could make nearly an entire year's worth of posts introducing a person or a critter each week.

And that's just what Imma gonna do.

My siggy line on my e-mails reads something like this:

Anne,
Wife of Fred for 23 years
Mom of:
Patrick (16)
James (16)
Bella (13)
Rosie (13)
Julie (13)
Daniel (11)
My children around the world:
Milly in Taiwan
Felice in Hong Kong
Eun Hae in South Korea
Nadya in Germany
Obrin in New York
And our critters Annabelle, Fiona, Sunny, Sophie, Cindy-Lou and Blue; Mamfy, Mali and Punkin; Nick; Frog 1 and Horny Toad; Charlie and Dizzy; Minnie and Alice; Elfie, Frex, Crope, Tibbit and Ozzy; Genevieve, Pippin and Finnegan; and a dozen or so chooks.

I'd like to ask God why He allows
hunger, poverty, and injustice
in the world,but I'd be afraid
He'd ask me the same thing ...


So starting today, I will go through the list one at a time. The interesting thing will be seeing whether the list can make it through a whole year without any changes.

Unlikely.




First on the list? That would be me. Anne.




















That's me in the most recent picture of me that I could tolerate.


A few (OK, a lot of) bullet points about me:

* I am 46 years old. Yes, I just said that out loud. Well. Kinda.
* I was born in Louisiana. Still have some family down south. I didn't live there long, but I miss it and still consider myself southern.
* Grew up mostly in NJ, but spent a little time in FL and KY.
* Parents divorced when I was eight and from then on my Mom raised myself, my two younger sisters and one older brother at a series of rental houses at the Jersey shore. Kind of like how I still consider myself "southern", I also consider myself a "local" when I take the kids to the beach, though I haven't lived there in many, many (many) moons.
* In high school I was in the color guard (flags) of our band and loved it. Yes, I am a geek. I worked an exciting assortment of jobs throughout my teen years, including chamber maid, waitress, rental cleaner, babysitter, taco-assembler supreme at a little joint called "Taco Island", cashier at a movie theatre, and salesperson at an MAB paint store.
* Though we had had classes together since 7th grade, I didn't start dating Fred till we started working at the theatre together our senior year.
* Went to college in NJ and got my bachelor's degree (magna cum laude, yay me!) in Occupational Therapy.
* Got married.
* Worked as an OT for about nine years.
* Had my first baby when I was 30.
* My big brother Donald passed away from brain cancer. I miss him. I grieve that only one of my children ever got to meet him.
* Quit work and popped out two more kids.
* Adopted our first child.
* Started hosting exchange students.
* Moved to a bigger house out in the country.
* Accumulated more than my fair share of animals.
* Adopted two more children.
* Started writing. Kinda like it. Published a few things.

And here we are. All of the above could have been abbreviated into I am a 40-something Mom to six kids both by birth and by adoption that has been married a long long time and who has untold numbers of animals and enjoys reading, writing, artwork and critter-caretaking and is considered by most to be insane.

Why is that such a difficult thing for me?

Saturday, June 25, 2011

History of a Romance


Year 1 Love at first sight. Well. Since we had been in classes together for six years, and had worked side by side for several months at the movie theatre, perhaps not "at first sight". But instantaneous, light-switch-flipped love, how 'bout that? As we gazed at each other over the shoulders of our respective prom dates.

Year 2 Adjust to the whole long distance romance thing. We attended colleges several hours apart from each other.

Year 3 "Will you marry me?" Maybe not on bended knee on a mountaintop with a 4kt diamond, but a simple college student's ring presented without fanfare in my college dorm.





Year 4 The love letters continued to pile up as we wrote to each other several times a week. In the days before the myriad options for how you wanted to contact a person, we were relegated to love letters and Friday night phone calls. We saw each other only a handful of times during the school year, but made up for it during the summers.

Year 5 First comes love, then comes marriage. We finally tied the knot five years and a month from when we began going together. I had at long last finished college and he had both finished college and gotten through his first year of med school.




Year 6 Time to play grownups with our first apartment, a one bedroom 2nd floor unit in East Brunswick, NJ. Mr., Mrs, dog and cat.

Year 7 I worked at my job as an Occupational Therapist, plus a little moonlighting, while he continued his studies at medical school, practicing his stitches on our hand-me-down couch.


Year 8 Medical school cap and gown time! And we loaded up the truck and we moved to Delaware.

Year 9 Fred started his residency, I started my new job, and our friends moved in with us. Our friends, plus their two little children, their newborn baby, and their Great Dane. Good times, good times.....

Year 10 We never found out what our landlord was doing with the rent money we paid him, but it wasn't paying the mortgage. Came home to a sheriff's auction sign in the front yard and so we moved again, to an old farmhouse in MD.

Year 11 An old farmhouse needs a horse to go along with it, and I was happy to oblige.

Year 12 Our first child, our son Patrick, was born. We were spanked hard as we entered the world of parenthood.

Year 13 Fred graduated his residency program as chief resident, and began his fellowship in Trauma and Critical Care.

Year 14 When he was all done being a good fellow, he took a job with this hospital where he did his residency. No moving required.



Year 15 We moved into our first boughten house just weeks before our 2nd child, our daughter Rosie, was born.

Year 16 Marked our 10 year anniversary. "Ten years and never had a fight".


Year 17 Two wasn't enough. One girl, one boy wasn't enough. We had our third child, our son Daniel. We were officailly outnumbered.

Year 18 This boughten house I mentioned? It was a 250 year old farmhouse on 11 1/2 acres. We (meaning I) continued to pour animals into the house, the barn, the fields. We (meaning I) added goats, sheep, ponies, and a pig to the property. For ambience.

Year 19 Kept busy fixing up the old house, mending fences, caring for critters, burying old pets.

Year 20 Kept busy wiping noses, wiping bottoms, changing diapers, cutting sandwiches into fun shapes, arranging playdates, tending boo-boos, nursing babies, learning to function on a 1/2 hour of sleep, and cleaning up after Hurricane Children on a daily basis.

Year 21 Apparently three wasn't enough. Two boys and one girl wasn't enough. We adopted Bella, who turned six one month after arriving in America from Kazakhstan.

Year 22 Apparently four wasn't enough either. We began hosting exchange students. Enter Milly from Taiwan, who spent her junior year in high school living with our crazy family. She also got to move with us as we loaded up the trucks again and moved to our bigger house on a smaller property. Fred laughed nervously and said, "You're not planning on filling up those extra bedrooms, are you?"


Year 23 Exit Milly, enter Eun Hae and Felice, from South Korea and Hong Kong, respectively.

Year 24 Took a year off from adding students to our family, but worked on building up the animal headcount once again.

Year 25 Oh what the heck, I'll take another. Enter Nadya from Germany.


Year 26 Two empty bedrooms means two more kids. We adopted James and Julie, also from Kazakhstan, and when they came home to us they were 10 and nearly 14.

Year 27 OK, no more exchange students. But let's host a Fresh Air Fund kid. A little boy from the inner city to stay with us for a week in the summer.

Year 28 Has it really been 28 years together and 23 years of marriage? Looking back I can see that since we started this romance we've lived in six places, starting in Fred's Dad's attic and ending in our current seven bedroom home. We have cared for countless critters and have 42 currently. We have hosted four exchange students and one Fresh Air Fund child. We have added three kids to our family by birth and three by adoption. We have weathered the deaths of beloved pets. The births and adoptions of our children. We have lived through times with no money and times of comfort. We have attended the funerals of grandparents, of siblings, of parents.

We have sometimes faced adversity head on, rowing our lifeboat sitting shoulder to shoulder, but there were also times we sat at opposite ends of the lifeboat, scarcely looking at each other as we weathered the storm.
But through it all we've grown stronger, closer, more in tune with each other than we ever would have thought possible when we were first gazing at each other over the shoulders of our prom dates that night so many, many years ago.

Thursday, January 13, 2011

It's My Birthday, I Can Bake if I Want To .....

Having a glorious birthday filled with wall-to-wall nothingness. After I got the munchkins off to school, that is.
I've caught up on my favorite blogs.
I've read all kinds of good wishes from my Facebook Friends.
I even began work on my New Year's resolution, which is to finish writing my book. I added to it for the first time since the kids let out of school last summer. All right, I only added a paragraph, but hey, I fulfilled the contract of my resolution by starting it.
I took a break to bake myself a birthday cake. Fred was planning to take this task on, but I've had my eye on a recipe, just waiting for a good excuse to try it out.

It's a chocolate sheet cake from the pages of my favorite cookbook. To the author, I must address this note:
Ree, you must leave the Marlboro Man and marry me. If you have kept abreast of current events you will know this is now leagal in some states.

It (my cake) looks scrumptious and I'm having a supremely hard time not digging into it. The only reason I've not done so yet is that I've had the pleasure of consuming a good bit of chocolate in the process of making this deliciousness.
Rest assured, no spatulas were harmed in the making of this cake. Batter was poured from mixing bowl to baking pan with the aid of gravity only. Whatever was left in the bowl was all mine. Not a soul around to yell out, "I call the bowl", "I call the scraper", "I call the beater". It was mine, all mine.
And when I caught sight of my reflection while washing up after this orgasmic baking experience, I looked like a four year old girl, with chocolate all over my face. I was literally bathed in chocolate.
Now that's the way to start off a birthday ....

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Grooming Your Cockatiel


I finally got up the nerve this morning to tackle trimming the nails of Daniel's cockatiel Nick. He used to be a sweet bird, honest. He would ride around on Daniel's shoulder and perch on his head. But we've ruined him. Now he's a nasty little SOB, hence me putting off this long overdue task. To be sure of what I was doing, I got out our cockatiel book and reviewed the section entitled "Grooming Your Cockatiel". Follow along with me, won't you?

"Fortunately, cockatiels are relatively easy to care for when it comes to grooming."
Oh good, because I really don't have a whole lot of time this morning.

"You may want to enlist the aid of a helper while clipping your bird's nails."
Oh shoot. They're all at work/school. That's OK, I'll be fine on my own.

"When the bird is secure, use a sharp clipper to cut the excess nail off"
OK, now we've got a problem. "When the bird is secure". How does one secure a fiesty, scrappy, cussin', flailin' cockatiel with the wingspan of a condor?

"Trim only the tip of the nail where it is hooked."
From this I can only assume the author has only trimmed dead cockatiels.

"The main concern with clipping the nails is that you avoid the quick - the blood vessel deep within the nail."
Oh sh--.

Now I've got a bleeding screaming cockatiel who keeps twisting out of the old t-shirt I've got him wrapped in. Everytime I try to get a look at his claws (sorry, nails) to see if I've gotten them all, he hides his feet with his wings or his beak or twists around some more and calls me an ugly name. I'm pretty sure he's only got 6 (maybe 8) toes or whatever they are, but at times I'm sure I'm counting 20.

I finally decide it's good enough and get him back in his cage, relieved that the job is behind me. But then Nick's mood switches from seething anger to the indignant depression of a martyr. Instead of sitting pertly on his bar, he slumps morosely on the floor of his cage. He fluffs his feathers, trembles slightly. I start to worry. He doesn't look good. His talon (sorry, nail) is still bleeding.

My left arm for a styptic pencil!

I know, I thought. I'll give him his millet spray. This bird would walk over hot coals for millet spray.
I hang it in his cage but he doesn't even look at it. He fluffs his feathers some more.

Instead of going about my business and checking off the things on my To-Do list, I find busy work where I can watch him. He's unchanged, so I scurry to the other room to Google cockatiels to find out how I've killed him and if he can still be saved. All the while I'm wondering to myself if, when Nick dies, I will have time to purchase an identical cockatiel and teach it Nick's full repertoire of whistles before Daniel arrives home from school. Not finding the help I need from the computer, I sneak back to the other room and peek in on him. The bastard is eating his millet, but when he sees me he retreats to the corner and fluffs his feathers.

"I'm on to you!" I scream in my empty house.

I think I need to get out more.

Thursday, January 1, 2009

Till the one day when this lady met this fellow ....

...and they knew that it was much more than a hunch....

Yeah, well, you guys get the idea. Short story: A long time ago Fred and I met, fell in love, got married, had a bunch of kids.

Long version:

A Prolonged Beginning
Fred and I have been in classes together since our days in middle school, 7th grade. Didn't really get to know each other till senior year, when we worked in the movie theatre together (he an usher, me the cashier). We got to be good friends. Then the prom came, and although he went with E and I went with S, we somehow experienced love at first sight that night, five years after our first meeting (we're a little slow). We slow-danced to the prom theme song, Endless Love, and that was all she wrote. The next day a whole gang of us went to Great Adventure, and Fred and I walked the park holding hands, all lovey-eyed for each other amid much wretching and puking from our friends.
A few short months later, it was off to seperate colleges and the beginning of a long-distance, long-term relationship. This was before the days of e-mail and texting, so we actually had to write letters to each other a few times a week. On paper. I know, gasp. We talked by phone once a week, but saw each other only a few times during the school years. Still, we managed to keep the love alive in our hearts, as well as the nausea alive in the stomachs of our friends.
Because I worked through school, I took the "5 year plan" and finished college with a BS in Occupational Therapy. Fred finished with a BS in Chemistry and started med school. So after his 1st year of med school and my last year of college, we tied the knot. As per the regulations of the 1980s, the wedding was a pink and grey pastel affair, with much layering and lace. We had a 3 day honeymoon in an inn not far from Atlantic City, then got back to work.

Movin' On Up
When summer was over, we moved out of Fred's Dad's attic and into our 1st apt in Central Jersey. I finished up my internships and got a job, Fred kept plugging away at being a med student. I can remember him practicing his stitches on the back of our 2nd-hand bile-green sofa.
After graduating from med school, Fred landed his surgical residency. So we loaded up the truck (and all our collective friends' trucks) and we moved to Delaware (are you singing this to the Beverly Hillbillies tune?). We rented what seemed like a palatial split-level, 3 bdrm 1 1/2 bath house. We had so much room that we invited some friends to move in (unbeknownst to our landlord). B was in residency with Fred. They had sold their house in VA, but hadn't yet bought a place in DE. So we said they could bunk with us till they found a place. So B and J, and their children ages 4, 2 and newborn, along with their Great Dane, moved in with us for a bit and it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Ahhh, good times, good times ....
Our friends weren't there long before they found a place, and life went on. Then one day we came home to find a sheriff's sale sign in our front yard. Whatever our landlord was doing with our rent payments, paying the mortgage wasn't it. We quickly scrambled and found an old farmhouse for rent in nearby MD. It was the beginning of the end for poor Fred, in his losing battle against me and the animals. This old house had a barn and 5 acres, and I promptly put a horse in the pasture. Our critter count was upped considerably in that house. Our landlady there was a quirky old character. We could only guess her age at that time to be anywhere between 60 and 80. She smoked like a chimney and always had a floppy-eared drooling Bloodhound in tow. She kept all her important papers stuffed in Ziplock baggies and had a habit of talking to you as she was walking or driving away.

Welcome to Parenthood
Our first son was born in that house in 1995.
We moved b/c our landlady had one of her many sweet real estate deals pop up: the company that owned the adjoining land wanted to buy her property. So she sold it for millions and we moved. Again.
Instead of renting this time, though, we were able to buy our first house. Fred had finished his surgical residency, as well as a fellowship in Trauma and Critical Care at Baltimore's Shock-Trauma. He took a staff job as a trauma surgeon. I was about 7 mths pregnant with our second child when I quit my job and we moved into our first boughten house in in October of 1997. It was an amazing 260 year old stucco over stone farmhouse with 11 1/2 acres, a pond and a stream. The driveway alone was 1/2 mile long. It needed a lot of work, and was on the small side, but we loved it. We moved in and I gave birth about two months later to our little girl.
Our days seemd too short as we struggled to find the time to parent our two small children, fix up the old house, maintain 11+acres, make fencing repairs, take care of the growing array of critters, and for Fred to work the many hours of a young surgeon. But we managed, and soon added a third child to the mix, in the summer of 1999.
With three children under the age of four, I really felt we were done growing our family. So when I had to have surgery to remove my rebellious gallbladder, I opted for the 2-for-1 discount and got my tubes tied in a pretty little package. With two little boys and one darling girl, I had it all. And wanted to stop.

Stupid Sisters
It's all my sisters' fault. Mary and Veronica are like my best friends. We've been through a lot together and it's made us close. One day it dawned on me that my Rosie would never know the joy of a sister stealing her clothes or hogging the phone or taking too much time in the bathroom. I wanted to have another daughter, but knew that even if I had a reversal of my surgery, there were no guarantees I'd get pregnant again, and certainly no assurances I would ever have another girl. So we (meaning I) decided to add to our family by adoption.

Adoption Pregnancy
So after convincing Fred I wasn't interested in adopting a baby (he wanted no more middle-of-the-night feedings, dirty diapers or teething), we started the research in January of 2003: Domestic or international? Which country? Which agency? What age child? Are we crazy or just eccentric? We finally signed with an agency in February, sent them our completed dossier in May, and beleive it or not, travelled to Kazakhstan in August and brought home our little five year old girl Bella in September. Never even got any stretch marks.

Life Goes On
We settled into some sense of normalcy for awhile with our now four kids. We also hosted some exchange students and I decided we needed to move to a bigger house. So in April of 2005 we said goodbye to our old farmhouse and hello to our new farmhouse 15 mins up the road. We more than doubled our living space, and went from 3 bedrooms to 7, but we downsized our property from 11+ acres to just shy of 7. Fred, laughing nervously, said he hoped I wouldn't decide all those rooms needed to be filled.

Just One Little Problem ....
There was this boy I met while I was over in Kazakhstan visiting our daughter. He was an amazing kid, but since I had no thoughts on adopting a boy, I thought I could find him a forever family through the network of adoptive parents I had met. But as it turned out, they told me he was not available for adoption. So sad, but OK, what can I do? So I thought we would just stay in touch with him. Problem is, the first time I sent him anything, I learned he had been transferred to another orphanage. We lost touch for more than two years, but we finally found him by hiring an in-country PI of sorts. We were still told he was not available for adoption, but at least we could finally begin writing to him as we had hoped. He remembered me, and we began writing letters to each other, and I would send him small packages from time to time. Two years passed this way, and I was finally told I could "try" to adopt him. Yes, they told me if I was crazy enough, I could spend months of my time and an exorbitant amount of money to prepare a dossier and fly halfway around the world so someone could review the case and decide if we could adopt him. Unfortunately for Fred, I am indeed crazy enough, and that's exactly what we did. I started preparing the dossier in October 2007, and was finally given my Letter of Invitation (aka greenlight) to travel to Kazakhstan in October of 2008. Five years and two months from when we were there before.

Just One More Little Problem
Of course, things are never simple. Because along the way of this second adoption journey, we learned that Borya had a younger sister, and that they could not be separated (though they were already placed in two different orphanages and never had any contact with each other). So it was decision time. If we wanted to adopt Borya, we would also need to adopt his sister. Could we adopt a 10 year old child we knew nothing about? Could we go from 4 kids to 5 to 6? Could we one day handle three 15 year old girls all living under one roof? Once we met her, all doubts flew out the window. She's a lovely child, and just, shall we say "interesting" enough to fit into our crazy crew seamlessly. So end of October 2008, Fred, Bella and I flew to Kazakhstan (again) and stayed there about a month to complete the adoptions of Borya and Yulia. Adoptions in Kazakhstan are different today than they were five years ago, so after court, we flew home to await the arrival of Borya and Yulia a month and a half later.

And that, in the biggest nutshell you've ever seen, is how we went from one kid to two, then three. Added a fourth, then brought home the fifth and sixth. As my kids used to say when they were toddlers, "All done!". Fred can only hope ....

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