I Had a Cow, Her Name Was Sue

True Story: I did have a cow and her name really was Sue. Sue Cow for short. We bought her from a couple of redneck boys that used to ride her like a horse. She didn’t care for them much. Yesterday we were at the local fair and I saw a cow that reminded me of her.

She looks sweet and doe-like here, but don’t let that fool you. My children have tried that look on me and I’ve learned that lesson. For the rest of the time we were looking at her, she was bellowing furiously. Rarely, do cows actually say “Moo.” Same goes for pigs. Yes, they do say, “Oink”, but Violet and Henry’s introduction to them was greeted by a shed full of sows saying something like “MMMRRRWWEEEEEEEEERRROOOIIIIII!!!!” That’s a direct quote, by the way.

Henry gave those loud animals a look of stern consternation for most of the day.

See?

Luckily, Violet helped thaw Scrooge’s heart of ice by way of bunnies.

Henry LOVED the bunny

I should buy him a bunny…

Better yet, one of you should buy a bunny so we can come a visit.

Please Grandma? Don’t judge, emotional blackmail is underrated. My children have proven that to me.

Speaking of cute. At this fair, the parking attendants were Mounties.

This made Violet very happy.

Summer is: a little girl in sunglasses.

This Week’s Assignment

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In No Particular Order

sleep in till 6:30

wake up to small girl at my bedside

convince her to crawl in bed and play with my hair while i sleep till 7

head downstairs for yogurt

Henry wakes up crying

A knock on the door

my sister visits

my children make a mess

i get mad

they play outside

my sister leaves

AJ gets home

snack time for V and H

lunch

send Henry to bed

clean

work out

shower

snack time again

everyone out the door

Violet falls asleep

into Target for milk and a return

corndogs?

head home to drop off AJ and groceries

keep box of corndogs

over to Emery’s house

kids playing

babies eyeing eachother

mom’s talking

corndogs eaten

a walk with a wagon and a stroller

playing at the park

perfect weather

walk back to E’s house

“Why’s my Daddy here”

tearful second goodbye to Daddy

He leaves to play on a boat with E’s Daddy

crying “I’m not tiiiiiiirrrrrreeeeeeddddd”

drive home

peanut butter and jelly

milk with a straw

two stories

change clothes

bed

downstairs to blog

sitting here now

should be cleaning

again

 

 

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Note to Self

1. Don’t throw away your children’s art work that seemed abandoned unless you intend to hide it in the garbage. Otherwise, they will find it and accuse you of the unthinkable.

 

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National Parents Day

Apparently today is National Parents Day. Kids, if you’re reading this consider yourselves duly informed that I expect fresh flowers the 4th Sunday in July. And no, this doesn’t mean you can scrimp on Mother’s Day.

Anyway, I have no idea why we have a National Parents Day, but I would like to celebrate this year by sharing stories of my winning parenthood mad skills.

First rule of this new annual tradition? Don’t judge.

Second, share your own to make me feel better.

Here’s the story.

Confession: I let my kids stand up in the back of the grocery cart.

Reason: The alternative is strapping them into the front while they (Henry) writhe and scream in torture until I take them out to stop the tsk tsk’ing of strangers behind my back. It makes them happy, okay? If you love shopping with very unhappy kids then please feel free to judge.

The Situation: I was at Costco with Henry. We were standing at the customer service counter doing a return while Henry was standing in the cart. He was holding onto the lip of the countertop in the section that doesn’t have shelves underneath so that you can just pass the larger returns under the countertop. Henry was standing at the back of the cart pulling and pushing his cart back and forth towards the counter while I was working on getting the return done as ten people stood in line behind me.

Winning Moment: The next thing I knew, I looked over and my son was no longer in the cart. He was dangling from the countertop and gently swaying back and forth while he gripped with his hands. I quickly grabbed him as nonchalantly as I could without daring to look behind and see the expression of the suddenly silent crowd behind me.

AJ didn’t believe my story until he tested Henry’s grip on one of our pantry shelves at home. This kid has bionic paws.

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Things I’m Not Proud Of

Admittedly, I’m having commitment issues with this blog. I’m not sure why, other than the fact that sometimes I get daunted by my millions of readers and all their comments. Let me tell you, that is quite a time commitment in itself. Ha… Ha ha ha.

Anyway, since I’m corny and cheesy and I also happen to love nachos and not just because they bear a strong resemblance to my personality, I told myself that I needed to get back in the saddle again. Literally and literary speaking. As I was thinking about the phrase “back in the saddle” it reminded me of a time I got bucked off a horse. It was my first time. I sat there in the dirt and in my utter embarrassment, the only thing I could think of was that stupid phrase, so that’s what I did.

It was the summer I was sixteen. I was working at Warm Beach Camp as a wrangler-in-training and even though I loved the outdoors, horses, and the smell of grass hay, I was very green. I had never really ridden much more than a few lazy trailrides, which was more apparent to my horse than I realized. At the beginning of the summer, all the wrangling staff were assigned horses that weren’t quite ready to be camp horses. Some needed more training, while others–like my horse, were still too wily and stubborn to be trusted with campers.

Her name was Taboo, and her diminutive size was contradicted by her one blue eye which gave her kind of a half-crazed look most of the time. That first afternoon I was assigned to her, I was supposed to saddle her up, avoid getting bit, and take her into the corral to ride and get to know her a little bit. I was pretty nervous while I got her ready; it was only the beginning of the summer, and I really wanted to start off on the right foot–make a good first impression. On a horse. I know. As I was about to discover, she was plotting a first impression of a completely different type: the first impression of my body hitting the dirt.

As I led her into the arena, I was chagrined to discover that the only other person riding in the arena was the closest thing I knew to a real-live cowboy. He was just old enough to be out of my league, but certainly young enough to make me turn red at the mere thought of doing something embarrassing in front of him. Cautiously, I started Taboo across the arena. This wasn’t too bad..in fact, I looked pretty darn good. She was behaving perfectly and I felt very smug and clever since everyone had told me how tough she could be. I relaxed into her gait, and flashed a smile across the arena at the real-live cowboy. The sun was warm, the birds were singing, and the next thing I knew, I was lurching forward over her left shoulder. In one swift movement, she exhaled and crow-hopped, causing the saddle to slip sideways and send me into the dirt all sore next to a horse with a saddle hanging off her side.

I know, cue the violin music, right?

I know I said “bucked off.” I lied. Fortunately, the real-live cowboy pretended not to notice while I got back on before it became obvious that I had just fallen off a walking horse.

This was fun…maybe I should blog more.

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