Monday, June 29, 2009

True Story Tuesday by Rachel

Hey y’all, ready for this week’s True Story Tuesday?

It’s a chance to give us the whole story of what exactly happened on that Not Me Monday. Or to share what seems too amazing/outrageous/miraculous to have happened in real life.

I know there’s a zillion great stories already written buried in your old posts… so it would be easy-peasy to just link up and share your stuff! So… please join along! Grab the button and share a link to your post about anything amazing, outrageous, hilarious, embarrassing, or miraculous, (and mostly-true) that has happened to you!


Mr. Daddy has suddenly developed a severe case of amnesia regarding his missed turn... remember he owed two in a row? So you guys are stuck with me this week.

(Maybe that's not such a great idea? Remember we got 2 new followers when the blog was frozen and I was unable to post? Then as soon as I wrote my first one back, we lost a follower... what's up with that? Talk about a writer's complex, LOL)



When I was a little tyke of about 7 (I did a LOT of True Story Tuesday stuff at that age, apparently), we attended a massive church.

In fact, it was called a cathedral (I’m not gonna tell you which one, for reasons that will become clear shortly).

This place was so huge… TBN broadcasted concerts and sermons from our pulpit. I’ll never forget watching Twila Paris sit down at a piano and fill the huge building with her voice.

My mom taught sign language classes, interpreted services, sang in the choir, and volunteered at their food bank.

Let’s just say that we were there… a lot.

On this particular day, the place was especially full – thousands and thousands of people there for a special speaker.

We were getting ready to head home after an earlier service and my mom got hung up talking with someone in the hall.

It had been a loooong day already and I was more than ready to go home.
Bored spitless, I leaned against the wall and tried to ignore my little sister poking me.

Then I had one of those curiosity-killed-the-cat moments.

No way it really worked.


It looked so innocuous – surely it wasn’t live?

My terrible curiosity finally got the best of me and I reached out my hand to feel the smooth plastic.

And to this day, I don’t actually remember moving… but somehow my hand did exactly what my brain was screaming for it not to do.

Yes folks, I pulled the fire alarm at a packed cathedral.

(See why I can’t divulge the crime scene location? I might as well mail myself the fire department bill, eh?)

Totally innocent. I would never be the type to be up to mischief, right?


Sooo… I know you can outdo this! Grab the button and share your outrageous/miraculous/amazing story!

Sunday, June 28, 2009

Not Me Monday!

It’s Not Me Monday again!

Continuing to pray for Stellan - great that the little guy has had a good weekend!

Come join at MckMama's for some free therapy :)


You gotta give me a break this week... blogging while recovering from wrist surgery is kinda tricky. Not to mention a very ill computer and a bum signal from Comcast. Sure didn't mean we had a reprieve from the dorky stuff I seem to get busted doing every week...


I did not shave one leg, then immediately forget which one and end up shaving them both again. I mean, I can maintain my sanity for the length of a shower, right?


Not my sweet little guy who went on a mission to “fix” things with a wrench.

So I didn’t step outside to see this…

Yes, my beautiful birthday lilies... which were from LAST year.

And that little fact is only important because I am not such a blackthumb that my family was shocked these things came back. They were doing quite smashing.


After yesterday's SOOC post, I did not realize that several readers had mistaken Cutie Left for Itty Bit. I didn't get more than a few chuckles out of having to explain that Mr. Daddy's grandson and son are a few months apart.

And while replying to an email attempting to clarify the fact... my dear husband did not take far too much glee in insisting that this should indicate to Ms. Pam D. that the elderly fellow has no need of a walker or any chemical aid (he made me write that) as he is quite capable even in his geriatric state.

Oy... not me who's gonna catch flak from both sides on that one...


Y’all know how paranoid I am with Itty Bit in public places, right? Especially little boy paradises like Home Depot. And there’s no way I thought Itty Bit ran ahead of Mr. Daddy’s cart – then peeked two seconds later and found him nowhere in sight. I did not immediately turn around and start freaking out looking for him.

He was NO WHERE in the aisle. Of course it was not me who started racing down the store, nearly shrieking his name. My shrieks did not turn into one horrible ragged gasp when I looked UP to see him standing at the very top of the rolling ladder!

Yes friends, in two seconds, my child did not manage to climb that darn thing and scare me to bits.


As I’ve said before… not me who cannot bake a simple batch of cookies. After burning the first set, I wouldn’t have turned off the oven and given up. And promptly changed my mind and stuck a second batch in. Only to realize 15 minutes later that I had turned the oven off. Then of course, to burn that batch too. Nope, not me.


I am not still totally freaking out that my 3-year old won't quit saying, “Me have a loof toof”. NO WAY!


I did not turn around at the grocery story to find Itty Bit merrily KICKING an apple across the produce section. That would have been mortifying!


Hey, remember that Not Me Monday, where my husband didn’t try to spit his gum out of MY window? And it didn’t instead just stick to the inside of my door?
Well, it was not me who decided to show him how it was done. And it wouldn’t have been me who chucked my gum across the passenger compartment, toward his window – only to watch in horror as it hit the inside door jamb and fell between his legs. Umm yeah, good thing he was only DRIVING.


So… go check out what everyone else didn’t do this week!

Hey y’all – come back tomorrow for this week’s True Story Tuesday – where we link to stories that actually happened… ya know, in real life. Join in – we’d love to hear the unedited version of a Not Me episode!

SOOC = straight out of camera

*UPDATED TO ADD* Cutie Left is Mr. Daddy's grandson.
Yeah... that makes him Itty Bit's nephew.
And the two are 6 months apart, which explains why some of you might be thinking our little guy was growing mighty fast (yes, he is... but he's not growing blonde :) Love y'all


A day late, but cute as ever.

Here's Mr. Daddy's little Cutie Left enjoying an airshow last weekend.

The pure excitement and uninhibited joy on his face...
gee, now you see why we love this little guy?

You're having so much fun here kiddo, I can't wait to see what you grow up to be.

Join Melody at Slurping Life for more SOOC shots!

Slurping Life

Friday, June 26, 2009

What a needle-phobe does on surgery day

Of course there cannot be a major event in our lives that doesn't also come with some wacky stuff that only happens to us.

Remember my
Ugly Friend?

And the nurse's orders that I could eat and drink nothing after midnight before the surgery? Then how she promptly scheduled me first thing, so I had to haul my half-awake butt there at 6am?

Oh yes, then she gave me a surgical gown that was meant for the Incredible Hulk and exposed me in all the right places.

So, after all the usual questions and filling out the same forms for the third time... the nurse casually says that she needs to insert TWO iv ports.

All elevator music suddenly stops. Everyone ceases breathing. My mother's eyes widen.


Somehow I get past the strange hum in my ears and ask in a half-strangled voice... "Umm, why do I need two?"

She politely explains that one is for the arm that will be operated on... they'll place a tourniquet to keep the local anesthetic in place.

The other is for antibiotics and the sedative.

I remind her that I have twice now asked if the sedative was required.
She tells me the local injection burns and the sedative helps.

Nah, I don't need the sedative.

"You can talk to the anesthesiologist."

Yes, Maam


So, two pokes later (minus the running around and screaming from the previous story), I finally get a chance to talk to Mr. Anesthesiologist.


I did it with one simple question. (I'm efficient like that)

Do I really need the sedative?

He was immediately annoyed.

When I tried to explain that I'd rather feel the pain of the local injection rather than wake up hurling my stomach's non-contents... he brusquely replied that the sedative did not cause nausea and the local would be painful.

When I insisted on asking why (yes, why, why, WHY?) a sedative was needed... he could tell that the "it's just to help you relax" thing was getting him nowhere.

Little Miss Smartypants (that would be moi, in case you aren't familiar yet with just how obnoxious I can be ;) threw out a "well, I had a BABY without it". Which, ya know... made perfect sense in my mind. Cuz Itty Bit was slightly larger than my Ugly Friend.

I digress.


Mr. Anesthesiologist is clearly Ticked Off. He literally pushes his chair away from me, throws a "whatever you want" my way, and angrily walks off in a fit.


Oh yeah... that last form I signed disclosed something about the surgeon and anesthesiologist making a profit from my treatment. Since I doubt administering sedatives is fun just for the hey of it (Well, maybe it is? My aunt once famously muttered something about "thousands of rhododendrons" as she drifted off), my first guess was that I'd promptly knocked his profit margin waaaay down by avoiding the Fantasia scene (umm, the Disney version, not the American Idol chick).


They wheel me in and Seriously? Is this why they give the sedative? Cuz it was not unlike the lovely hopeless feeling of being strapped to the bodyboard after the accident.

I'm intent on being a most agreeable patient to prove that I'm right about the darn sedative. I'm tough, right?

Except Mr. Anesthesiologist is going to make sure that I know he's still annoyed.

He jerks my arm up roughly and starts cinching a tourniquet around my bicep. Now, I'm not overly proud of my eeny-weeny biceps, but he somehow manages to fold it over itself four times and pinch the heck out of my skin with the buckle. I suck in a gulp of air and mentally refuse to cave.

He doesn't bother looking at me, but instead drops my arm onto the metal operating table. Bruise #1.

Repeats the same with another tourniquet on my hand, and drops my arm again. Bruise #2.

By now the limb-smashing-into-metal commotion has alerted the nurse who fires him a look and pointedly steps next to him to stare at my arm.

Mr. I-Need-More-Fiber-In-My-Diet then grabs a humongous syringe with his left hand, and with his right hand singlehandedly RIPS.OUT.MY.IV.PORT.

Then jams the big sucker into a yet-uninjured space next to the previous poke that is now spraying blood everywhere.

Oh yeah... he was gonna make me sorry.

Is anyone counting? Yes, I have three stinkin' needles stuck in me so far.
One for the sedation I didn't need.
One for the local.
And one for revenge.


He pushes half the contents into my hand - swelling my fingers fat and making a bloody mess. About 5 seconds too late, he finally says sarcastically, "THIS'LL BURN".
Bring it on buddy.

The surgeon notices the rough treatment (arm drop again, Bruise #3), and half-apologetically smiles.

Ready to roll.

They stick a sheet up to cover the battlescene and I feel nothing but some tugging. The lights are super bright and Mr. Anesthesiologist is now at my other side - sulking and watching my vitals on the monitor.

Yours truly starts singing an obnoxious little smug song in her head.

I'm tougher than you are. I won, you lost. Nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah.

I blink and realize too late that the operating theatre lights have done a number on my peepers. A tear leaks out, slides down my cheek, and directly into my ear.

Annoying little bugger.

Mr. Anesthesiologist sees the entire thing.

No wait! That wasn't a real tear! You didn't win! I'm still nyah nyah nyah-ing!

No dice.
The guy actually caves. He pulls his mask down so I can read his lips.
His expression softens in concern and he says, "you tell me if you feel anything, okay?"

O-kay. Not feeling so good about the nyah-nyah-ing.

Seriously, it's over in 10 minutes and I'm flying out the door to recovery. Nurses are scrambling because no one ever refuses sedation and they don't know what to do with a live one.

"Why don't eat something? Your local will wear off soon and you need to get some Vicodin in you".

I am happily headed out the door with my mom/driver and hit up the Vicodin as instructed.

Which means I slept through most of the day, cuz I'm a lightweight like that.

You know how fuzzy it is coming out of a drug-induced nap, right? Try being sound asleep and having your 3-year old sneak over to you and rip off your IV bandage with fantastic speed. Lemme tell ya... I woke right up, hollered at the big dude who was supposed to be watching the little dude, and promptly cloistered myself in the bedroom for a safer nap.


If you're not too squeamish, can any of you medical peeps tell me why on earth they ran a single line of stitching through the incision, then poked it back up through the skin a half inch away on either side and just left it hanging out?

Cuz they didn't warn me. The tape came off pretty darn quick (yeah, living with a curious 3-year old tends to do that) and was tugging on these "loose threads" that I made the mistake of asking Mr. Daddy to help me remove. OUCH.

Now I am nervously suspecting that there is no way to get these bad boys out next week without cutting into skin again... anyone else seen anything like it? (In case you're wondering, nope, pulling one side does not move the other. Learned that the hard way)

I've been calling it my catfish. My sis thinks it looks asian. And my mother-in-law made me snort when she said it looked like that Diamondback pictcher's handlebar moustache :)

No, this is not the awful picture of all the bruising and the if there's a good side, this is it... from another angle, you can see that it's still swelled nearly as much as my Ugly Friend *ugh*

Probably the worst part is my unintended lack of blogging. I miss you guys and hope to catch up soon!

Thursday, June 25, 2009

We’re back!

So you thought that if Blogger flagged us as a possible spam site… that you could get rid of us that easily?

The thing that cracks me up; is that we gained 2 new followers while the blog was frozen! I guess it’s more entertaining when I’m not able to write? ;)

We are missing out on all kinds of updates. The first and most important one is a big giant THANK YOU to all of you who posted on Gracie’s story to help us raise funds for Sufficient Grace Ministries.

I was unbelievably touched by your sweet comments. It felt like being able to introduce her for the first time, since the number of people who were able to see and touch her in those 25 hours were precious few.

But instead, you reached out and touched us. Beyond the hope that we could support a ministry for grieving families, it brought me to tears again and again to realize that people were praying. Praying for these moms and dads who don’t have a choice in saying goodbye so soon. Praying for comfort for strangers they’ve never met.

And the stories… people opening up and sharing about their own loss. Thank you for inviting us into your story. Introducing us to your precious children.
Can you imagine? Our sweet little ones already know eachother… they’ll be introducing us at the pearly gates!

Can I tell you that my sister and I sat at the computer, reading comments aloud. Smiling through tears and being touched by words of comfort.
She needed that.
I needed that…
to see her proud to talk about her little girl and to be loved on by you guys.

I (ahem) haven’t spoken with Mr. Daddy about this yet… but since the goal was 500 comments, we were prepared to send that to Sufficient Grace Ministries. Even with 260 comments, I know there were well over 1000 hits to the post… so I know God can use those seeds. Perhaps the best thing for all of us, was to simply be reminded how unbelievably valuable each life is.

Thank you again.

Give me a few minutes to rest this bum wrist and I’ll tell ya all about that adventure!

Monday, June 22, 2009

True Story Tuesday by Mr. Daddy

While we allow Ms. Rachel (aka "The Claw") to recover from the loss of her Ugly Friend, we bring you a fresh installment in the adventures of Mr. Daddy.

(Rachel's disclaimer: this is before I even met the guy - you'll see why I was charmed, I'm sure).

So... enjoy the brutal honesty, then grab the button on the sidebar and post your own True Story Tuesday. You know you've got something amazing, outrageous, or just gosh darn funny from long ago, begging to be shared. Add your link and join along!



Back in the day, in a time far far away, there were two women that showed up on my porch...

That in and of itself is not necessarily a bad thing...

But the events that lead us to the moment, could be considered my road to perdition...

At the time I was doing shift work. Starting time 4:45 PM, quitting time 1:15 AM which put me home somewhere around 2 in the morning if I didn't stop at the local pub to have a submarine sandwich and a brew (or two).

Well if memory serves correctly, I stopped... and had a home rather late...had plans to go golfing with my future father-in-law at 7:00 AM

Let me explain myself a little here.
I HATE TO BE LATE....(or have someone waiting on me)

The alarm went off at around 6:15am which was about right for a normal situation. (Right?) Rrrriiiiiight!!

The couple was a few too many, and getting home at around 3 or so in the morning is not conducive to popping outta bed at 6:15... YUP!!! Hit the snooze and slept right through the next few alarms...

Next thing I know someone is banging on the front door, like they have a need to use the bathroom....(BAD)

I peer through bleary eyes to see that it is around 7:15 or so, Crap I'm LATE!!!!!!
Now I never got into the habit of sleeping in the raw, but being the good old redneck that I am it seems a little ridiculous to put on clothes to go to bed....
Sooooooooo... my tighty whities, or Fruit of the Looms, BVD's, briefs or whatever else you would like to call them sufficed quite nicely, thank you very much...

As the banging pierced through my sleep-fogged mind, my only thought was "O" man I overslept and I want a shower. Reminiscent of the good man in the Night Before Christmas ode, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter...(and let my good ole future father in law in, figuring that he could get the coffee going whilst I got my shower....)

Did I mention that I hate to be LATE.... or have someone waiting on me????

Yup! Headed for the front door on the dead run... Just me and my briefs... hair all disheveled, eyes feeling like to two pee holes in a snow bank, and a day or two of stubble on my chin.

Probably not my most defining moment...

Throw open the door, and say,

Commmmeee -iiiiiiiiiin- AAAAAaaaaaHHHHhhhhhh!!!!!

There on my very own front porch....... At 7:15 AM Yessssssssss!!!!! AM stands two matronly Jehovah's Witness saints......holding a Watch Tower magazine.... with a total deer in the headlights look.

I'm really not sure who was the most surprised...

But I can tell you with some smug satisfaction who had the quicker wit......

It was like what Melody at Slurping Life talked about the other day.... an Epoch of Clarity!!!

A moment of divine inspiration....

A total Here's Your Sign moment....

I shouted out... DO YOU WANT TO PARTY????????

In retrospect that might not have been such a great idea...

What if the two poor old ladies would have fainted from the sheer fright of the ghastly spectacle before them, and I would have to have administered first aid in my Tighty Whities, and my future father in law and the pastor that he brought with him showed up....

Does divine inspiration, or epochs of clarity happen twice in the same day????
Probably not, but I'm sure I would of thought of something... *snicker*


Here's your chance! Link up and share the love!

Sunday, June 21, 2009


Sorry we've been absent. Wrist surgery on Tuesday is taking awhile to recover from and it's slow blogging with a bum hand.

We're nearly halfway to our goal of 500 comments for $500 to Sufficient Grace Ministries. Please help us here.

I have been overwhelmed with the beautiful messages of support and prayer for my sister. It is amazing to watch God bring good from heartache. Again... please go to our last post if you can add a comment to help this ministry. No donations required at all, but the benefits are priceless for families in need.

Happy Father's Day y'all - and especially to my amazing dad and to the sweet Mr. Daddy who has been taking care of an awful patient :)

And because no post is complete without a picture... here's our late Straight Out Of the Camera shot in honor of Father's Day. Umm yeah, he's ticklish.

Slurping Life

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

A Mother's Letter

We hit 100 comments, and $100 in donations at 8pm tonight. Only 400 more to go! Please help us reach our goal of giving $500 to this much-needed ministry!


I've shown you bits and pieces of our little Gracie.

Today, I am grateful that my sister herself has agreed to share her sweet girl with you.

Hers is the story of a little miracle and a mother who fought to give her a chance.

The silly side you see to my sister, the pictures of goofy faces and cake frosting fights... are the moments that give you a snapshot of her childhood personality.

The other side is one that will never truly "get over" the fact that she is a mother to a child in Heaven.

A bit to know about my sister, Ju.

She is a severe juvenile diabetic. She lives with an insulin pump - and doctors have watched her blood sugars go from record lows, to record highs.

These extremes come with a price.

After a healthy delivery with a strawberry-blonde Little Jo; two years later, we were celebrating news of another pregnancy.

In one devastating day, an ultrasound changed our world.

The yet-to-be-named baby had several severe problems, but the worst concerned her heart. The words fell like rocks.

Incompatible with life.

As my father broke the news to me, I had never seen a more brokenhearted man.
Our family wept, we hugged, we asked questions, we prayed, we begged.

With each doctor visit, my sister would be strongly urged to "terminate" her pregnancy. There was no hope for this baby. If she were born, she would be deformed, deaf, blind, unable to walk.

And we watched God perform miracle after miracle... with each ultrasound.
Bones that were missing, suddenly would grow into place. Organs that couldn't be found, would suddenly appear on the monitor the next week.

The day my sister named her little girl - was a day I joyfully prayed over our little Gracie. She was a person, a creation that God took delight in. Not a mistake or a regret. But somehow... a little life kicking with gusto inside of a mother who desperately wanted her.

My sister didn't "terminate". She didn't abort. She had a choice. And she chose life for however long her Creator would lend Gracie to us.

We celebrated, we gathered to pray. Gracie's baby shower - a day before her birth, is something I will never forget. Her mother, 8 months pregnant, and a room full of family and friends praying blessings for this little girl. Even Little Jo prayed for her little sister.

Little Miss Gracie was born around 4 in the afternoon the next day. Her eyes were open and she was breathing on her own.

And my gosh, she was a beauty.

A button nose and sweetheart lips. A head of soft dark hair. I was in love.

We took turns in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, whispering around her bassinet, slipping our fingers into her tiny hands, caressing her cheeks.
She laid flat under a light in only a little diaper, hooked up to a machine that forced tiny breaths into her lungs.

The hours passed and her body began to struggle. Her heart and lungs had no way to exchange oxygen. There were no earthly miracles left.

The staff began to allow more visitors.  As parents of other sick babies looked at us in sadness, I realized that they knew.

A sweet sound filled the small sterile room. My mother harmonizing with her sister as we sang acapella.

Amazing Grace
How sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me

I once was lost
But now am found
Was blind but now I see

We had 25 hours with this precious girl.

Our hearts broke as she spent her last few breaths in her parents' arms for the first time.

I share this with you, because our family is incomplete without mentioning Gracie. She is present in our thoughts at each birthday party, each Christmas, each Mother's Day, every day.

I share the pictures because I want to put a face and a name to these children and the families who grieve them. And to give my sister a chance to share her heart for her baby girl.

As we walked through the hospital doors to the world outside, carrying a box instead of a baby - it felt like everything was moving except us. In looking back, I wonder how many grieving parents I meet without even knowing it.

Please read, in my sister's own words - her goodbye letter. Written in an empty hospital room while newborns cried down the hall. Her strength amazes me.


Friends, thank you for reading this. I know it is not easy or comfortable... but I hope you'll help us make a difference.

I've been in touch with Sufficient Grace Ministries - a group of women who have experienced this kind of loss and are reaching out to grieving families. They offer memory baskets, books, bears, burial gowns, and bereavement resources.

I can tell you firsthand... it was more sweet than bitter - to go through Gracie's memory box today and see her footprints and gown. These small things can be so meaningful when they are the only things a mother will take home with her from the hospital.

Like MckMama, I want to encourage you to leave a comment on this post. For each comment, we will give $1 to Sufficient Grace Ministries. I know there are usually more hits than comments on this site - could you please come out of hiding to help a worthy cause?
Can I challenge you to tell your friends and help us hit 500 comments? We've never had even 50, so I know this is a tall order... but God can do it. The post will stay open for a week or until 500 comments.
Please help make a difference with your comments and your prayers.

In loving memory of our sweet Baby Gracie.

Monday, June 15, 2009

True Story Tuesday by Rachel

Hey y’all, ready for this week’s True Story Tuesday?

It’s a chance to give us the whole story of what exactly happened on that Not Me Monday. Or to share what seems too amazing/outrageous/miraculous to have happened in real life.

I know there’s a zillion great stories already written buried in your old posts… so it would be easy-peasy to just link up and share your stuff! So… please join along! Grab the button and share a link to your post about anything amazing, outrageous, hilarious, embarrassing, or miraculous, (and mostly-true) that has happened to you!


Short(ies) and Sweet

I had nothing for True Story Tuesday.

Umm, yeah. Remember it was STILL Mr. Daddy's turn? You can see how that went ;P

Sitting at my computer wondering what to write… already dressed for bed in an uncharacteristic itty bitty cutesie 2-piece. Kiddo asleep, almost 9pm, curtains are drawn.

Oh yeah.


Oh wait… there was no knock, knock.

Just the sound of the sliding glass door opening.

Which is pretty much NOTHING to a deaf person.

Who is still sitting at her computer in her immodest little outfit wondering what to post for
True Story Tuesday.

Mr. Daddy jumps up from his own computer and heads toward the door.

His chair is in front of me, spinning with how fast he ejected.

I grab it and literally hide behind it.

Oh Mercy… they’re TALKING.

And talking.


And hiding.

Finally Mr. Daddy:

“Come on dad, let’s talk outside”.


Sooo… I know you can outdo this! Join along and share your outrageous/miraculous/amazing story! Just grab the top button and link up!

If you think of it, would you please say a prayer for me? I leave at 5:30am this morning to Ugly Friend’s final goodbye. They’ve already warned me about their “I Don’t Care” medicine, so maybe especially praying that I don’t say or do anything blogworthy while Mr. Daddy is overseeing my recovery? Thanks y’all!

Sunday, June 14, 2009

Not Me Monday

Ooh, it's been a doozy of a week!

Join for some free therapy, courtesy of MckMama.

I did not let my kiddo bounce on the bed while singing "10 Little Monkeys". He did not get to the "one fell off and bonked his head" part, promptly do a faceplant into the headboard and... you guessed it - bonk his head.


20 seconds later, I did not do the exact same thing myself.


While having a fabulous time at the lake, our kiddo did not think he was picking up another rock to throw into the water, and instead pick up a petrified piece of canadian goose poop.

Thanks a lot, you turd.


I did not have a dream that Kate Gosselin asked me to take care of one of her kids because she wanted to take a bath.


I did not thoroughly confuse a grocery store checker who overheard me talking to Itty Bit.

"Put that back honey, it's spicy"

"No honey, that one is spicy too"

"Ooh honey, that is really spicy"

"Another spicy one, put it back honey"

He wouldn't have been confused because Itty Bit was picking up chocolate candy bars one by one as I told him that he most definitely would not like them.

All would have been going well in world of Mean Mom if Itty Bit hadn't spotted a bag of Peanut M&M's and totally busted me.

"Not spicy mommy!!!!"


I did not buy that kid a bag of Peanut M&M's.


I am not thoroughly confused at how this brave chick could be related to me.


My confusion did not deepen with the next picture:

Oh no... let's not freak out about the fact that she is holding snakes in each hand. Let's just freak out that the one on the left POOPED.

Sorry - seems to be a poop theme on this blog today.


And we very much enjoyed a visit from Tiny Thing. Itty Bit was not trying so hard to join her atop the yellow tunnel, that he did the most logical thing...

Oh yeah - remember he's THREE YEARS OLD - what could possibly be the most logical thing?


(and yup, he did not holler "stuck, Stuck, STUCK!" like the kid on A Christmas Story!)


Join MckMama for some more Not Me Mondays!

SOOC = straight out of camera

I won't lie.

It's been a rough week.
And it spilled over into the weekend.

But the feet of summer always make me smile.
At the park. There's no age limit to swing into the treetops, is there?


And the sign of a successful summer day...
your kid falls asleep on the floor before a chance for a bath.
Ahh, an age-old parenting quandry...

Join Melody at Slurping Life for more Straight Out Of the Camera moments.
You're sure to find new friends.

Slurping Life

Friday, June 12, 2009

Take it off

You get to learn about all kinds of things in my line of work.

After monitoring a fire academy budget for awhile, and following Brian's blog... I got to thinking about scubas.

Specifically SCBA. Self Contained Breathing Apparatus.

These things:

I started thinking about how control freaks (like me) want to, have to, need to do it on our own.

Be self-sufficient.
Handle it ourselves.
Else it won't get done right.
Things would be chaos.

How many times do we put on our self-contained breathing apparatus and head out to conquer?

Knowing that we've got our own air source, everything is under control.



Someone puts a kink in your oxygen line.
Their words and actions lead to consequences that you cannot control.

Battling through every disagreement depletes your reserves.

And soon you find that your oxygen has been replaced with carbon dioxide... the stuff you are supposed to let go of.

Sure. You don't need anybody. You've got your own supply. You can do it yourself.

Only the gear of self-reliance is awful heavy.
While you think it sustains you, in fact it causes you to stumble with weariness.

In Matthew 11:
28 "Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. 29 Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For My yoke is easy and My burden is light."

It's so easy for me to skip through that verse. It's familiar and comforting, but lacks the punch of any real thinking on my part.
Until I'm tired and worn out. And I see the results of my "control". It's unhappy chaos anyway and all my exertion has only managed to keep me tethered.

Not to mention the mask gets pretty darn foggy - it's easy to lose direction.


What if I pulled it off?

Quit relying on myself as my source?
Instead of being dependent on a finite tank that can get dented, depend on the One who has an endless reserve?
Rely on the very One who gives me breath?

Pull it off and breathe deeply of the sweet air.
To exhale what I was supposed to let go of.
To shrug the heavy straps off my shoulders and let go of my "self-reliance".
To surrender what will never be controlled by me.

And to feel the wind again.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Gender Matters

Ever contemplated the differences between the genders?

Like how it's genetically impossible for a male to recognize the max load of a garbage bag before it's ready to break?

Or for a man to fit more than 7 items in a dishwasher?

My man in particular has a rough go of it if I assume he's emptied his pockets before dumping his clothes in the laundry basket (hey - at least he puts them there, right?)

Yeah, I don't find all kinds of stuff in the dryer. Most recently a CHUNK of concrete. How on earth did I not hear that clunking away in there? Oh yeah... the kinda-sorta deaf thing :)
And a couple other things that somehow find their way into the wash.

Laundry rules: you leave it, I keep it... which only really applies to the first item:

Just in case you didn't know... that item right up there is an earplug. Comes in many different colors. And is the most frequent guest in our laundry survivor list. UGH!

And only a man needs to have this many tape measures.

Seriously, there's FIVE in that little drawer alone. And it's not counting the one on his belt. Somehow I have a feeling Pam D. is gonna have something to say about that.


And apparently only women and toddlers can stay up til midnight on New Year's Eve...


And probably the #1 most annoying thing about having a little boy instead of a little girl (besides my guy's charming habit of loudly announcing "BOOBIES!" to every underdressed teenager), is perfectly illustrated below.
Please allow the accountant in me direct your attention to the figures next to the genders. Yes my dears, it shows that Amazon carries 55% girl clothes, and 45% boy clothes. That's a full 10% of adorableness that our little guys are missing out on!


Lest you think me all complaints - I know I have my own faults.

I am absolutely useless when it comes to anything mechanical.

Don't ask me to get a tool out of your toolbox, because I'll ask "which one is the Philips?" every time.

I am also about as helpful as a Tupperware lid without a bowl when it comes to hurt animals. Don't even ask about the tiny sparrow that flew into our window.

(I however, am an excellent alarm system for any creepy crawly things that dare breach our homestead. You can even hear me a couple acres away.)
Blood and guts? I'm not your girl.
And have a mole problem? A girl would never think to do this:

Umm. Yes. That's exactly what it looks like. Mr. Daddy standing guard over a mole hill with a shotgun trained on it. This guy is serious about his yardwork.
And I will probably never be as brave as this little guy:

Have a great day y'all. Go find that big lug (or sweet wife) of yours and give them a hug.

Tuesday, June 09, 2009

My Ugly Friend

Before I start this post, I wanted to let y'all know about Mr. Daddy's boss from yesterday's story (no, he is not my ugly friend).

Trust me when I say the guy knows he is loved by how often the crews pick on him. As a supervisor, he is fair and outspoken in defense of his gang (umm, not like Mr. Daddy ever needs defending, right?)

He is also highly regarded by the guys as a hard worker who joins right alongside them to dig a hole, install steel beams, and occasionally, serve as the poster boy for pranks. How's that for a team player?

Yes, the story actually happened... I could have sworn (except I don't) that even the deaf chick in the front office heard the screams.

This kind of boss is one in a million - like you guys already said - who else wouldn't have fired the goons?


So... onto my Ugly Friend.

Remember her - that ugly little bump on my wrist from the car accident? Uhh yeah, over a YEAR AGO. Yeah, it's even bigger now. Remember how I freaked out strangers with it? :)

I finally had my last surgical consult today. I foolishly thought I could handle Itty Bit during a 15 minute appointment.

Oh silly me... I can handle him for HIS appointments.

It's a different story entirely trying to entertain a missed-nap cranky 3-year old in a doctor's office when you have to fill out paperwork, lipread, answer questions, and somehow keep him from destroying the nurses station for your appointment.
And I know this was NO ONE'S fault - and please don't think I'm being cruel here, because the lady was a sweetheart - but I kid you not... the lady asking me all the questions had suffered a stroke.
Umm, no. Not while I was talking to her.
But she had obviously done some kick-butt recovery.

Talk about a challenging lipreading match! She was a total peach and didn't mind Itty Bit destroying her desk, opening her drawers and begging for her fruit bars (the little stinker).
We got shuttled between buildings with Itty Bit protesting my instructions to leave the lobby room toys (yes, he charmed the nurse into letting him borrow one until we returned). While meeting with yet ANOTHER nurse... a dear receptionist finally brought my nutso kid a cup of gummy bears. I think she figured I could handle the sugar high afterward, as long as it kept him from continuing to open the fire extinguisher case.
So... they give me the bad news.
Oh no, it wasn't anything about the surgery itself.

It was the fact that they had NO IDEA when they were scheduling it. Morning or afternoon or evening.
No biggie - except that you cannot eat or drink anything after midnight the night before.
Uhh yeah. Ever been around me when I'm hungry? It ain't pretty.
Somehow I persuaded her that it was most definitely best if I were placed first on the list. This deafness has a silver lining - they couldn't call me with the schedule at the last minute :)
So, say goodbye to my Ugly Friend... may she never return, despite her 15% statistical chance.

Makeover courtesy of Rach's mom. Gotta love that woman.

Sunday, June 07, 2009

True Story Tuesday by Mr. Daddy

Well, it looks like it is TST time AAAAAAaaagain!!!! were does the time go. Somehow Rach says that it is my turn again. After all the whining about my hacking into her blog, you would of thought that she would not let me near her blog any more. I am sure that there will be more to come on that!!!!


This is a story of a lippy boss, now don't get me wrong I have as much respect for a supervisor as the next guy...

But there are times when they should really just walk away... And as it happened quite some time ago I don't recall all the details that led up to the quasi-crucifixion that took place, but the actual hanging him on the wall is still etched vividly in my mind...

The Powers That Be, had negotiated a new facility for us, and part of the deal was we had to move offsite to a temporary building. Needless to say moving three sections was a very complicated undertaking, and the building that we moved into temporarily was just a big old warehouse with some office space on one end.

There were four of us guys way in the back organizing stuff when the supervisor came strolling by. Like I said, I'm not real sure what led up to the attack incident, but his literal placement on the wall is firmly engraved in my memory banks. After the verbal exchange, it was like an electric current went through the four of us...

Have you ever had that happen? When four totally different minds come to the same earth-shattering conclusion in a split second of time??? (Well maybe it wasn't earth-shattering, but it was pretty amazing) We all looked at each other, and with a slight nod of our heads we all broke into action...

The two big guys (and I mean BIG) the one is about 6' 6" and weights in at around 260 the other is 6'8" and weighs in at a little bit more, each grabbed an arm and a fistful of coveralls on his butt.

My brother and I broke for the tool room at a dead run...

Grabbed a screw gun each and a fistful of screws.
Now don't think that the super took this lying down...

There was the godawfullest caterwauling that you ever heard, quite a few expletives and other choice verbiage also...

But in the hands of my stalwart companions, he was like a child with absolutely no options. (Other than the screeching and helpless flailing about). They slammed placed him up against the wall as my brother and I bore in with the tools of redemption in hand.

He started in at the right arm pit and I started in at the left, each working our way out to the wrist, then down the sides to his hips. This freed up the hands of the two big goons so they grabbed his legs and bent his knees up and we both place screws in the tip of the soles of his shoes...

Yep we pretty much nailed him to the wall..

As he began to realize that all his screeching was getting him nowhere, it began to turn into a more subdued sound....

"GUYS ???????

Guys come on......

GUYSsssssss come on, this isn't funny!!!!!!!

OK. OK...... OK!!!!! you proved you point..... Now let me down!!!"

We all looked at each other, then at him.....

Sorry it's lunch time and there has been no authorization for overtime....

We will see you after lunch....LOL

P.S. he is actually still my supervisor, and the best one that I have ever had....


Go ahead - you know you want to. Grab that button from the sidebar and link to your outrageous/amazing/hilarious story. Who knows - maybe one of them would be good for revenge, eh?

Not Me - Revenge Edition

Alrighty... y'all get to play along with us this week. Cuz alla you silly people were part of the Not Me's that happened last week!

Your comments didn't leave me in stitches. Nope, not me.

Nor did they make Mr. Daddy laugh obnoxiously loud every time he read another one that encouraged his inner troublemaker.

Y'all are not possibly a wee bit naughty for egging on Mr. Daddy's onslaught of embarrassing photos. And I'm not gonna admit y'all were pee-your-pants funny.

So... here are our non-responses to a few of your outrageous comments this week!
Remember, it didn't start here, where I giggled about Mr. Daddy's reaction to an item of maternity clothing.

Truly, sweet Shanda got the silly little idea started:

Well, I did have one photo...
Here were a few reactions. Lord did I not know y'all pretty much called it on the photo revenge:


Did he call it Even Stevens? Heck no! What followed was a major moment of regret that my husband could hack his way into my blog.

(By way of explanation... the Magnum reference is from this post - where Lisa gave me cause for loss of bladder control)

After realizing the extent that my dear man had gone to in making sure my comeuppance would be complete - I sat down and wrote a shocked comment:

I thought I'd garner a bit of sympathy from my bloggy friends.

Are you kidding?

Y'all turned into a delicious audience for a jokester who needed no encouraging! (Thanks girls) The first comment said it succinctly - and put the blame squarely where it belonged (DOH!)

Oy... one right after another in a matter of minutes:

Gee Lisa - he practically looked like one of those poisonous fish after reading your comment - all puffed up and grinning gleefully. Just wait Dear... a follow up on that Magnum is in the works...

Shanda - you got away clean with that one :) Though if you had dared me for photo of the look on his face when he saw the "bottle" picture...

Are you kidding me? I couldn't even post pictures of my kid's cute naked butt! LOL

Kam! Don't be encouraging him!

Ooh, I had to laugh! Who else broadcasts a silly spat where you post increasingly embarrassing photos of your spouse? And oh, for the days when I didn't care that my tummy and thighs looked like that!

Umm, yeah. Anyone else buying that?

Finally - a ray of hope! A girl who will empower my quest for revenge with her vast stores of ideas for public humiliation.

Oh wait... may I never make Pam D mad at me!

Okay - I think this is where she actually started to scare Mr. Daddy ;)

So glad you guys could BAHAHAHAHA at my expense. Cuz maybe I should just do a theme one week for True Story Tuesday and beg y'all to post your own embarrassing photos!

Dana - you triggered a laughing/coughing/gasping fit with that last comment. Cuz Mr. Daddy still isn't leaving that story alone!

Now that was one of the bright spots about the pictures... Loooved how many of y'all figured out that Itty Bit takes after his momma! Small consolation in this humiliation!

The mere fact that Mr. Daddy snagged a comment from Melody was enough to make him crow!

A word to the wise, Heather... DO NOT ASK YOUR HUSBAND TO WRITE ON YOUR BLOG. It could be disastrous, my dear friend, disastrous I say! Let him frequent the comment section, but protect your author rights with your very life!

Okay Elaine... this is where I ask for help in the next step. I'm running low on ammo and would love some suggestions!

Oy, my friend! This entertainment comes with a price! The constant vigilance to ensure that no unflattering photos are taken, no clumsy actions are witnessed, no words are mispronounced, etc. And to think that it's Mr. Daddy's turn to write TST this week? I tremble!

Since it seems like y'all cheer for whichever side is conducting the humiliation - this could go on forever. But dare us. Come on. I know you've got some silly ideas for ways to post our public battle. Make it epic!

And head on over to MckMama's to see what everyone else wasn't up to this week!

And why I'd remind anyone it's True Story Tuesday tomorrow - when I have no clue what my Mr. Daddy-who-likes-to-embarrass-his-wife is gonna post...? But join along and tell us your amazing, outrageous, or hilarious story!