Happenings Here

If you were to hack my computer,
you would find that my latest Google search was,
“Can you eat raw dandelion flowers?”
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I think you all know by now, at this house
it’s not because someone wants to eat them,
it’s because it already happened and the eater there of
was just wondering if she was going to die.
She didn’t think so, but she just wanted me to check.
She had made a dandelion and wild onion soup
and decided to try a few bites.
It was good, so she ate it all.
My apologies in advance to her teacher
for the the way she is going to smell the next few days.

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In my defense….
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…as I said, in my defense,
when I am drug from a sound sleep at 4am,
I am less the coherent as to what I am rubbing
on my son’s dry skin.
Also in my defense, it was totally dark
and both bottles have a pump.
It did smell a bit funny and was gritty
but hoping to be back in bed within 3 minutes,
I didn’t put too much thought into the why of it all.
Now we know.
We just rinsed him for his next bath.


Of food…
We have been eating well,
too well.

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Madison is on another baking spree.
We were served apple dumplings one night this week.
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On Friday afternoon she made a made to-do list for Sat.
Her Mother almost fainted.
Not a relaxing Sat in my book.
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I cut the list in half and then in half again
and we ended up with Sour Cream Twists,
Rhubarb Cake,  and edible cookie dough.

I’ll post the twist recipe one of these days.

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She declared Saturday awesome even though
she was a bit looney after washing all the dishes.
The dishwasher you see was full too.

Her Mother is quite glad she bakes.
Yesterday she made another dessert for the freezer
for this weekend.


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Someone saw his Dad wear sunglasses in the house.
Someone decided this is the cool way to wear them,
inside or out.


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Hope your week if full of coffee, friends and good food!

Life ’round Here

Beautiful, bright and shiny,
that sunshine I see.
The warm air, or what we call warm,
feels marvelous.
Has Spring come to stay?
I sure hope this sunshine burns up some germs
we have floating around here.

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The other day Kennedy and Dakota were on the floor playing
and she started with a coughing spasm.
He backed up a bit and said,
“PLEASE! Get her out of my space!”

That’s how we all feel about these illnesses.

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D was to the Dr yesterday so I hope we’re all on the mend.


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When the Mother tries to do a bit of cleaning
they all swoop in and make a house out of everything.
Why yes, I flip my chairs over every week.
You mean you don’t? 😛
ha. please don’t stop in unannounced.

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When you leave for 20 minutes and come home
and find the need to google,
“How do you get dry erase marker off carpet”
Maybe this is why I needed to flip over furniture.


Madison is on a baking spree.
She comes home from school and says,
“I am going to bake and bake and bake today!”
I say “Fine!”

Most of the things have something to do with chocolate.
I think she’s getting her chocolate fix now
because her Mother rarely bakes anything chocolate.

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{Her Chocolate Crinkle cookies}

Last night she made a Texas Sheet cake.
All went well and after supper she made the frosting.
She called me over and said,
“This stuff is so runny it probably won’t even stay on the cake!”
Sure enough, it was fairly dripping off the spoon.
I asked a whole lot of questions,
yes, everything was in,
yes, she followed the recipe,
yes, she did everything right
(given that there were no directions beside the ingredients.)
Finally she started reading the recipe,
listing all the amounts she had put in.
Butter =  3 and 1/2 STICKS
Her Mother yelled, “WHAAAAAT?”
She shrugged, “But that’s what the recipe says!”

Now this Mother had made that recipe lots of times
and she knew good and well it had always turned out before
and she had NEVER used that much butter in the frosting.
She whipped that card out of the daughter’s hand
and prepared to read it correctly.
Lo and behold, sure enough it said,
1 and 3/4 c butter.

I groaned.
In all the times I made the recipe,
I never noticed that little c that I had mistakenly written down.
I always knew it meant 1 1/2 sticks.
Well, score 1 for her, she was obviously following directions.

On to the next problem.
We were almost out of powered sugar
and we had already borrowed all of the neighbor’s cocoa powder,
so we weren’t gonna go asking again.
I dumped half the soupy frosting in a bowl
and added the rest of the powered sugar to the other half
and all was well!
They ate up the cake with lots of frosting.


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When you take them to Home Depot and you think
pushing one of those huge dumb carts will help entertain.

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He loves to play Memory and will play with anyone that is willing.
She is willing because she is always the winner,
showing no mercy at any point in the game!
I guess he is a glutton for punishment
because he’ll always play another game with her.

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Those lazy Sat mornings when they all watch You Tube videos
and laugh and laugh and laugh.
Those are good times to watch.


On my last post about comparing,
I was also thinking about the flip side.
Do I degrade people in comparison to myself?
Do I judge them?
Do I think less of them than myself?
Sadly, sometimes, yes.

This quote by C.S. Lewis says a lot:

“Pride gets no pleasure out of having something, only out of having more of it than the next man… It is the comparison that makes you proud: the pleasure of being above the rest. Once the element of competition is gone, pride is gone.”

Of Wailing Females

When she wakes up saying, “No, no, no.”
You know it’s gonna be a bad day.

She wails loudly for something to eat.
I give her a bagel with jam.
After looking at it for a minute,
she pushes it away and cries loudly into her arms.

Dakota walks past with a toy she likes behind his back,
grinning wickedly, he sticks it out for her to see.
Howls at high decimals reach our ears and she lunges for him.

I settle her on the chair with her favorite book.
All is quiet until I open it to the first page and it is torn.
More crying, wailing and tears, “Broken page, broken page.”

Back to the table, she nibbles her bagel.
Loud cries go up over “Messy hands!”
I clean them and she wails, “Noooo, I do.”
I give her the rag and after she wipes for awhile,
I ask for it back.
More wailing, “Not done, not done.”

I pick her up, she sobs and says, “Stand up.”
“I am standing.” I tell her.
She stops mid cry and looks down and wails loudly.
Why? I don’t know.

She wants milk.
She doesn’t want milk.
She wants down.
She wants up.
She wants to eat.
She doesn’t want to eat.

Her Daddy walks in and asks what’s wrong.
Her mother replies,
“I don’t know. She doesn’t know. I guess she’s just being a female.”
When the father grins, the mother scowls inwardly.

We give her her favorite blanket and stick her into bed
and all is peaceful for a few minutes.
Soon she comes trotting out, smiling.
What happened?
We don’t know.
We just hope it lasts.

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Moral of the story:
Don’t ask a female what is wrong because more then likely she doesn’t know.
Just clear the way, give her some space and chocolate,
take care of the kids, feed the dog, take out the trash,
clean up the house, do the dishes, and in due time,
all will be right with the world again.

School Time

Say it isn’t so.
Those early mornings.
That early bedtime.
Daily runs to and from.
Homework. (they better not yet)
Studying for tests.
Bible memory.
And lunches.
Who could forget packing those!

School it is.
Here already.

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{Reagan – 3rd grade}

She was very excited this morning.
And a little sad.
She has to leave her beloved Miss Lois
behind and move on to the next room.
Miss Katie will be a wonderful teacher, I’m sure.

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{Madison – 6th grade}

Madison was nervous this morning,
leaving Miss Britt and moving up with the big guys.
She was ready to go back,
but reading all day appealed a little more.
Last night she says,
“Don’t you feel sorry for us,
for tomorrow we will be confined to the chains
of the prison called school!”

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{The 2 inside were less the happy}

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I think they were ready.
Restlessness had set in and they needed
a schedule and more to do.
Now I have a schedule too and more to do.
More to do would refer to the Little One around here.
I guess she notices the change because
we have not had a very good morning.
If she’s not whining around my legs,
she’s running away with Dakota’s toys!
I’m hoping in a few days we’ll have a new normal.

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How can I have daughters in 6th and 3rd grade?
What happened?
Am I not still 20 years old?
I was yesterday!
Or at least I thought so in my mind.

Sometimes I look around and I wonder,
“How did I get here? Are these my children?
I’m not old enough to be a mom to these kids!”

But the ones I call mine keep hanging around,
acting like I know what I’m doing in this parenting realm…
so I guess I’ll keep trying.

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3 happy purple 3rd graders.

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And we’re off to another good year.

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Bless you teachers as you teach!
I for one, sure am happy for the job you do!

Of Whining and Work

In the fifth month of the year of our Lord,
the daughters of the tribe of Eric, son of Dan
were weary with their schooling,
ready to be free.

The mother of the tribe was weary also,
ready to be free of the demands
of the rigid schedule.

Excitement mounted
and soon it came to pass
that the school year had ended.
Freedom at last,
(or so they thought)
to do as we please.

Stay awake with the moon,
they surmised,
and sleep past the rising of the sun!
Lie about on pillows of ease,
and read the day away.
The watching of movies,
talk of pools, sun and sand,
parties with tea,
and all things grand.
Life at its best.

But lo, there was the mother of the tribe,
who knew what was to come.
Soon it was, that bickering and grumbling,
followed closely by much wailing
overtook the household.

The daughters of the tribe
commenced to arguing and strife.
“But you did…  but you didn’t!”
“Mother, she said this… well she said that!”
And the striving raged on.

The son of the tribe of Eric,
found pleasure in tormenting females,
where upon wailing would ensue,
much to his delight.
Simply placing his hand upon the head of small one
would cause great anguish for all,
followed by his laughter.

And so on and so forth, until the sun went down.
And the evening and the morning were the unending day.

And lo, the mother of the tribe…
had had enough.

The great wide world of outdoors was calling.
And so the door was opened
and the tribe was ushered outside.
But alas, the rains fell and beat upon the roof
and great was the fall of it,
returning the children indoors.

And the evening and the morning were the unending day.

Nearing the end of her sanity,
she rose early and  made lists
of all things profitable,
work of all shapes and sizes to be done,
written on tablets of stone!
The spiders in their webs did quake in fear.

And when her children arose,
she gathered them together
and did line them up with a stern command.

Thus saith the mother and so it shall be.
“If fighting or any such thing equal thereto should occur,
a job will be applied.
All whining and complaining
will be met with more work.
All teasing will be abolished with
cleaning of toilets and sinks!”

And they opened their mouths
and did wail with great cries of anguish.
Where upon the mother applied a job to each.

And all was silent.

So from this day forward peace did reign.
When fighting and wars arise amongst the tribe,
the house becomes clean once again.

All the while the mother secretly debated in her heart
over wishing for school to start again
or enjoying her clean house.


Of School

May their days be filled with learning, wisdom, new experiences,
growing, fun times, and all things good.

May they learn about important things in life like Jesus, friendships,
kindness, being a peacemaker and putting others first.


I wish them a fun year and lots of new things learned.

God grant their teachers wisdom and much patience
because it sure takes a lot at home.


And may my days be filled with more peace and a lot less fighting.

Ta-da! They are off to school!


of girls and hoarding

Female hormones flying wild and running free.
Arguments. Wild crying. Wailing. Muchly tears.

“But we caaaan’t throw this away!”
{Really? Watch me.}

Grabbing handfuls and hiding it.
{I’ll find it some day when you’re not here.}

“She said you said she could have mine.”
{I didn’t say anything}

“But I liiiiiike it sooooo much!”
{you like everything soooo much.}

“But where will I stuff all my things?”

“But it’s not trash, it’s my favorite!”
{how many favorites can you have?}

“I thought I hid that from you”
{told you I’d find it}

“Mooooooom, he’s taking all my stuff!”
{good. not as much for me to take}

“But I don’t care if my room is too full!”
{but I do!}

In other words, we’re cleaning the hoarders bedroom and this mom is on the warpath.


Happier times last night.

To prove my point I remember writing this on FB last fall.

“Miss Reagan, it seems, has become quite a pack rat. I was reminded of that again when I “mishted” out their room the other day. An entire laundry basket, large laundry basket, FULL of her “stuff”, very full! It was everywhere, under the bed, under the dresser, in drawers, under her pillows, in the pillow case, stuffed in the closet corners, everywhere! Stuffed animals, papers, pens, pencils, toys, art projects, stones, sticks, leaves, acorns, beads, rings, necklaces, socks, blocks, pieces of material, everything! You name it, it was there.
The top of the dresser was the cream of the crop, there were little bags, bowls, containers, and anything that could hold something, full of ‘treasures.’ Back in the corner was a bowl Madison had made for an art project at school. I noticed that it was nicely covered with an old, torn piece of material, all the sides were tucked in and something was obviously being hidden in it. I lifted the material and there was a BOOT. Not just any boot, but one of Dakota’s green rubber boots that I had mowed over this fall. It was ripped to shreds, lots of pieces, chopped up, but she had arranged it so that it was all laid back together like it should be and tucked it into this bowl. I could not believe my eyes. A boot of all things, for a treasure. To say the least, there were many tears when she saw the clean room.”

In my defense, the room looked fairly clean to the naked eye.
She hides things well.