Monday, September 22, 2014

Saturday in Redneckville: Football Fever

You would more or less have to live under a rock to not realize that it is football season in the USA. I mean the kind with a brown oval ball and big black men in pads and helmets, not the one with the round ball and men in shorts running around. I happen to be a pretty decent football fan. Wait, I am a Seahawks fan, not really football in general. I watch games in which my team plays but I don't take time out of my Monday and Thursday to watch teams whose merchandise I don't buy.

I am not going to give you a run down of the Seattle/Denver game. We won and that's all the matters. The fact that it was in overtime just means that my heart rate and blood pressure were very likely temporarily at unhealthy rates.

 I brought up football because, I learned this weekend that my husband could take it or leave it when it comes to watching football, but I might have a conniption if I miss a game. If the fact that I kicked my husband out while the game was on (the Seahawks play better when he listens on the radio at his brothers) wasn't weird enough, I "watched" the game with my sister via Facebook messenger.  She recently moved to Denver. (I should maybe call her and make sure her Seahawk loyalties didn't get her killed or maimed today.) While we aren't, and never were, very close, she, like me, lettered in football in high school, so we do sort of bond over football. And it's no fun to watch by yourself.

Also, these amazing  pictures of my kids amusing themselves while I screamed at the sweaty young men on my television.

Johnny made himself "overalls" out of a plastic shopping bag while on time out.

I have no idea what Lily was doing here. She was just sitting there making this face.

P.S. I guess I better clarify the lettering in football. Neither my sister or I actually played football. She did get tackled once though. We were the statisticians.  We ran up and down the sidelines during the game keeping track of yards run and yards passed, interceptions, fumbles, and all that wonderful stuff. Our duties included traveling with the team to all away games. For anyone who thinks keeping stats for two years in a row doesn't really qualify you for a letter, try taking hour plus bus rides home with a team of football players. Most of them shower, but their pads still reek. I paid my dues.

Tuesday, September 16, 2014

What I Did Last Summer or Why I Now Hate Cops

I'm back! Again.

I was forced to take a hiatus from blogging so that I could play the leading role in one of the situations you read about where a parent is dragged through the court system because they let their children play outside while mom stayed inside to clean up the hurricane that is two school aged children in the middle of the summer.

Here is the short version:

Johnny was riding his bike around the block with his friend. You know down our street, around the corner, up the next street over around the corner again and back down the sidewalk in front of my house. Every three or four houses there was a house occupied by a friend or family member. Lily asked to go play outside. I said, "Yes, but stay in the yard, don't follow Johnny he doesn't want his kid sister hanging around." I then went back inside to finish packing up to go camping. 

Fifteen or twenty minutes later I went outback for a smoke break. I didn't see Lily but I heard her and from the direction of the sound of her giggles I assumed she had crossed the alley to play at Tenielle's house with BossyPants and BellaRose, something she is regularly allowed to do. About the time I finished my cigerette, the cop showed up. 

Mr. Motorcycle Cop asked if I knew where my daughter was. Apparently, She had been running after Johnny and his friend and while they were on the next street over, right in front of Tennille's house where they regularly play. A kind and concerned (read nosy) neighbor lady saw a small child running down the sidewalk without an adult and flagged down the cop. 

The end result is that I was charged with misdemeanor injury to a child. I got a public defender and would have tried my case before a jury, but since the outcome would have been dependent on the jury liking me and this whole ordeal has thrown my BPD into chaos (I went from minimum diagnostic symptoms to all nine in a matter of 24 hours), I chose to plea out. I am currently on a year probation with a years withheld judgment. That means that if I meet all the conditions of my probation (no problems with the law more serious then not wearing my seat belt and completing a parenting class by January 15th) then the judge will likely dismiss the case. Until then, it isn't even put on my record. As long as I go take this stupid state mandated parenting class that tells me to negotiate with my children and coddle them rather than putting my foot down, none of this will show up in a background check.  Because you know, there isn't enough crime in the US so we have to waste time and taxpayer dollars telling people how to raise their kids and prosecuting them for not doing it they way the 30 something with no kids from California* thinks they should.

*I do not really hate or discriminate against people from California, They just seem to be the ones moving into the very conservative area I live in and trying to make us all liberals**. In this case, the woman really did move here from California.

**I also do not have a problem with most liberals, just the ones who try to tell me how to live and parent and what I can and cannot buy, own, or eat, while telling me that I am close-minded and intolerant.

Monday, June 30, 2014

Saturdays in Redneckville: Backyard Camping and a Dead Mouse

So, what's the first thing you do after going camping? SLEEP. Then you set up your tent in your yard to air and sweep it out. And then you leave it up because the kids saw it and they want to sleep in it.

Tennille's kids have never been camping. EVER. So, we had a practice round in our backyard. Complete with s'mores.
Camping Dinner. Yep, Johnny was in a button down and a tie. He just wanted to. 

Our tent. Oh wait, this is David Tennant I got distracted.
 (I do not know the source of this picture, it was on Tennille's computer.
 If you own the copyright, please let me know,
I will credit you or take it down, which ever you prefer).
This is our tent. It's huge. We slept two adults and five kids and had room for at least two more sleeping bags.

I made fire. Without Larch. And without gasoline. Thank you Girl Scouts

Bella Rose all snuggled up.

Bossypants' first roasted marchmellow.

Oh yeah, we use old car seats as chairs around our backyard fire pit. 

Johnny like wearing no shirt. Flipper likes his marshmallows burnt. 


Tennille said the baby wanted marshmallows. I think she just felt nostalgic about childhood.

When we camp for real, the phones will be locked in the car. 
In other news....

Later in the week, my laundry room started to smell. I thought maybe the hot weather had just made the washing machine funky. The laundry didn't smell when it came out of the washer, and the drum didn't stink, but there was a definite odor around the washing machine. Thinking that perhaps a wet rag or sock had gotten dropped behind or beneath the machine, I pulled it out to investigate. This is what I found...



Yeah, the worst part is that Larch made me deal with it. I had to pull it out and throw it away. But I did it.

Today, I duct taped our kiddie pool back together. Give me a mullet and I could be the redneck woman poster child.

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

Photo Challenge Days 19-25

I suck at posting these daily. Check out Motherhood{honestly} for more frequent pictures. And to see the awesome photos other people are taking.


DIY. Lois Lane made these for me as a birthday gift about 3 years ago.
After Hours. Tim the Toolman adds wood to the campfire.
Morning Routine.
Hands
Majes Me Sad.
In Your Bag. Yep, I keep books in my purse. The Outlander series is AMAZING. The first boom is called Outlander ( go figure). Read it.
Movement