Aaaaand We're Back

The last time I posted was way back in October and I had plans to try and post at least once a month, but as usually happens, life got crazy.

Turns out quitting my job was a good things. That inability to be on my feet for 4-6 hours at a time was something I should have taken a little more seriously. On November 17 I went in for a routine prenatal appointment. I had felt a little crampy but I wasn't concerned. I should have been. I was only 34 weeks along and already dilated 3 cm. My midwife sent me straight to the hospital for monitoring.This was not good. Two hours later I was at 5 cm, despite shots and meds designed to stop labor. My midwife and the nurses were prepping me for the reality that if my baby arrived (and it looked like should would) she would spend at least three days in NICU.

While all this was going on, my older two kids were at home with Papa and a massive windstorm was devastating the area. A power line went down in our front yard and burnt the grass. Johnny tells me it was very scary.

Thankfully labor stopped on its own but I spent another two nights in the hospital. Partly to make sure it stayed stopped, and partly because we had no power and therefore no heat at home. When I did get home, we still had no power and I was on strict bedrest for 2 weeks.

The night I went home, my grandfather landed in the ER and was transferred to the ICU with meningitis. It was bad. My aunt drove through the night from Seattle and my sister was on the next available flight from Denver. He pulled through, though he is still in a rehab facility getting his strength back.

Long story short, life has been super crazy.

Evelyn Gayle very wisely stayed put for another 4 weeks and arrived only 10 days early on Dec 15 weighing 7 lbs 2 oz and measuring 20 inches in length. She was perfect and spent no time in the NICU.

Evelyn at just over 2 months old.

After Christmas, Lily turned 6 in January and the Seahawks didn't quite make it to the Super Bowl (there is always next year).

I had my tubes tied over Valentine's Day weekend to prevent this kind of chaos from happening again. Three kids is enough for me and I am exhausted.

Life is just now beginning to settle down, or maybe it just feels that way because Evelyn is learning to sleep through the night and so I am feeling a little less tired. That said, she is asleep, and this being the third time around, I know the wisdom of sleeping when she does.

This SAHM is.....crazy.

Back in the beginning of September I quit my job. Only temporarily, I plan on going back next summer when Baby Evelyn is around 6ish months old. I wanted to work until Thanksgiving, but it got to the point where being on my feet for 4-6 hours straight was not something my body was ok with.

Somewhere along the line, I got this brilliant idea that since I am not working and both of my kids are in school for at least half a day, I should start selling the stuff that I sew. I put together a Seahawks apron and had it sold within two hours of finishing it. I sold a Minecraft inspired pillowcase for a friend (and got paid for it) and put the picture on the Facebook and was immediately bombarded with interest. So I opened an Etsy store.

Here are two of the said Minecraft pillowcases.

I quit work so I could take it easy and relax until baby gets here. Now I am trying to figure out how to balance housework, grocery shopping, meal prep, and sewing. Seriously, every time I put an order in the mail and think that maybe I have some time to breathe, I check my email and find another order waiting for me. I don't want to complain, but I really expected this whole "start a business" thing to be a much slower start.

I have also made the very smart decision to try and do two craft fairs this season. One in early November and one in early December. My sister in law is sharing the space and splitting the booth fee with me. This is great, and I hope I will make money, but in the mean time, I should probably make sure I have more than three pillowcases and two pot holders to put on display. Also, Halloween is like three weeks away or something and I haven't even started sewing Lily's costume. Go me!

Ok, it's really not that bad, it's just all happening faster than I expected and with other stuff (i.e. my grandparents are getting old and falling apart and I am pregnant and hormonal and cry for no reason anyways) going on, I just feel overwhelmed. But please, feel free to overwhelm me more by telling me you would like some custom made pillowcases (they don't have to be Minecraft) or an apron, or pot holders, or coffee sleeves. No really, $12 each or two for twenty on the pillowcases. ;)

And just in case you are curious (and even if your not) here is the link for my store that only has three listings as of the time of my writing this. Sew Breazy

The Frozen Life

I'm a little late to the party when it comes to blogging about Frozen.But lately, it has been on repeat in our house again, and it got me thinking, again. I will not be writing about how awesome it is that the true love is a love between siblings, or that it isn't a movie about needing to find your prince charming, or about how Disney flat out says "you can't marry a man you just met," or even about how funny it is that there is a disclaimer at the end of the credits absolving Disney of any liabilities concerning Kristoff's views about all men picking their noses and eating it. Those are all great, but they are not what has been stirring in my brain for the last year or so.

No, I will be discussing how Frozen makes me cry because it can be used as an allegory for so many different aspects of life with or around mental illness. Things like isolation and healing and stigma and support and letting go. I was going to write one post about how I love Let It Go but not because it's a hit song, but because I really feel that song. I am still going to write that post, but in doing some quick research (while watching Frozen for the millionth time) I realized that there is much more about this movie that really strikes a chord with me in a way Disney may not have intended. I am not the first, or the only person to notice this. About a year ago, I read a Washington Post article by a psychologist on the parallels (I saved the link once, but can no longer find it). And I found a number of touching and encouraging blogs by others who live with mental illness.

During my daughter's most recent watching, what really struck me was the look on Elsa's face and she begs Anna to just leave her alone after Anna has confronted her in the middle of the coronation ball. The animators very wonderfully portrayed on her face what I feel so very often.

Elsa knew it was not the time or the place for that discussion. She could feel herself losing control of her emotions and her powers. She knew that she was about to do something foolish and dangerous and probably not very nice. And she knew that is was only partially her fault. She was doing everything she could to keep cool, but Anna kept pressing. So she begged Anna to stop, and she tried to walk away. She tried to protect those she loved from herself because she knew she was about to lose it. As she tells Anna to please just leave it alone, the desperation on her face is what I feel in my gut so often when my husband and I have what should be small tiffs (like most married couples do I imagine).

I don't know how many times in the last few years (post DBT classes and cessation of medication) that something silly has started to turn into something nasty and I have tried to walk away. I have tried to change the subject, I have asked nicely to talk about it later, and I have begged and then fled because I have felt myself losing control. I have been in that place where I know I am at the end of my own self control and that I am going to blow a gasket in a very ugly and not very nice way. And my husband keeps pushing. Sometimes it's not my husband, sometimes it's my kids, or a friend. Occasionally, it's a strangers, but oddly, I find it much easier to retain control with strangers, perhaps because it is easier to walk away and not be followed. I don't blame my loved ones, they know I have the tendency to exploded (Anna did not know what her pushing would do to her sister), but I imagine walking on eggshells is hard and sometimes impossible. I just wish desperately that they would listen and back off when I say to them " I can't do this right now, we need to do this later, this is not ok and I am not ok and please just leave me alone to calm down for a minute. Granted, I don't grow nasty sharp ice crystals when my emotions go all crazy insane, but the words that I say can cause much more hurt and lasting damage, and I always feel scared, hurt, and angry at myself afterwards.

The Christmas List

It's that time of year again. At least, it is for our family. The time to make a Christmas list.

Growing up it was generally accepted that we have a Christmas list prepared by September 20, my younger sister's birthday, to present to my grandparents. As a kid, I didn't have a problem making a list this early in the year. Even as a teenager it wasn't really difficult. As a young adult it became a bit of a chore because Nana is the type to have her Christmas shopping done by the time you actually get a list to her. Now as a married woman with kids it is one of those things I put off until the last minute when I am being nagged by my parents and my sister because, for some strange reason, my grandparents rarely communicate with me directly.

I try to make and keep a list all year round, but somehow that never really works out. I want to populate the list with things that my grandparents will actually think make good gifts and that I will enjoy, but I also want the items to be practical and things I will actually use. I am running out of kitchen gadgets and camping gear, or rather, I am running out of idea for where to store them.

Making a list for my husband is even worse because even when I ask him directly, his list is about three items long, which doesn't leave anything for the kids or myself to get him for Christmas.

Then of course there is the list for the children. They are old enough that I could make them do it. The problem is that my daughter fixates on one item, generally the one that is a big ticket and therefore the "Santa Present" and can't get beyond it. My son changes his mind so often, that if he makes a list now, by the time Christmas gets here, his interests will have changed and he won't care anymore. Then of course, there is the fact that my grandparents are so far removed from what typical children these days are into. If I say "anything Frozen or My Little Pony" they will recognize that Frozen is Disney and get my daughter Tangled merchandise and they won't know what My Little Pony is, but they won't bother to ask either and so they will get my daughter a life size doll that creeps her out and goes immediately into the Goodwill box. If that's not bad enough, they don't have any idea what is age appropriate. I happen to know already which book my 8 year old will be getting for Christmas. Blueberries for Sal.  Don't get me wrong, it's a good book and one I won't mind having in the house, but he is in third grade. When I was 5 I was getting A Little Princess and The Secret Garden. Why can't they get him a chapter book. I don't even care if it's not a classic, but I think he's old enough and smart enough for something like Treasure Island or Kidnapped.

So, as my kids begin school on Tuesday, I will spend the hour or so between kindergarten drop off and the arrival of my bff for virgin mimosas (aka orange juice and sprite) and a BBC (read Sherlock and Doctor Who) binge, scouring Amazon for gift ideas my grandparents will hopefully find affordable, intriguing and perfect, but that my kids will also be excited about come Christmas morning.



P.S. This year is complicated by the face that Evelyn's due date is the day after Christmas, so I too will be trying to get all the shopping done early. If I don't, Murphy says I will spend Christmas Eve and/or morning in the hospital delivering my own special Christmas gift.

Yay Fall!

So, It looks like I might be a once a month blogger. At least for a little while.

August was crazy busy at work with inventory and  few big sales and everyone else taking vacation time. Add a sky that was the color of muddy water because of wildfire smoke to being pregnant and working 27 hours a week on my feet and you had one exhausted (and probably cranky) lady on your hands. Things are finally calming down though, and,  at least for now, the smoke is gone.

Back on August 12th, we went in for our ultrasound (I know guys, I am trying really hard to not turn into a full on mommy blogger, but I am a mom who attempts to blog and when you have  little person growing inside you, it sort of consumes your whole brain space) and discovered that we are having another little girl! My son cried, my daughter threw a party, and my husband and I were just happy everything looked a-OK and she appears to be a healthy little one developing right on track.

Yes we have a name picked out: Evelyn Gayle.

Now, about that smoke. Living in the beautiful country of North Idaho puts us right in the middle of all the northwest fires. The big ones are over in central Washington, but would take less than a day to drive over and see. there are two or three large complexes (that's fires that are actually three or more little fires all being fought and managed by the same group of amazing men and women) in North Idaho. One up in Priest Lake (called the Tower or Kaniksu complex fire) and one over near Clark Fork (I cannot remember this ones name.) This means we get all the smoke. It makes it hot, and muggy, and hard for healthy people to breath. Seriously, until this weekend when we (finally and blessedly) got some rain, we were bordering on hazardous air quality conditions. The "experts" say that the smoke is going to come back, and that even if no new fires start, we will probably be dealing with at least a bit of smoke through November.

And that leads me to the YAY FALL part. With the rain, came cooler temperatures. We are not supposed to get up over 76 or something like that this week, with most days being in the upper 60's. Since yesterday was September 1st, Pumpkin everything is back and I am one happy camper. Fall is my favorite season, followed by Christmas (yes Christmas is it's own season, not just a holiday). The boy goes back to school next week, and on the same day, the bean will start her first day of kindergarten. Fall may not officially start for another three weeks or so, but according to me it has officially arrived. If you will excuse me, it is my day off from work and I am going to go back some pumpkin cookies that I have been craving for three weeks and putting off because it was still August.

The Pillar of Fire -or- How We Found Our New Home.

As I mentioned before, we moved twice this year. In February, we moved into the basement of my sister's house where my parents were living after she took a job in Denver. About the time we moved in, she received an offer on her house and a month later we were moving out again.

From the time we moved in, I was in house hunting mode. After much thought and discussion (and a lot of bullying on my part) Larch and I came to the conclusion that it would be financially wise to rent a place with my parents rather than a place on our own. Not only would this save us money, it would give our children some added stability with my crazy retail work schedule and put babysitters only so far away as the next room.

We looked, and we looked, and we looked and every time we put in an application we were the second person to apply or our credit was not good enough (read spotless). About a week before my sister was due to sign papers and close, my dad and I were driving around looking for a place.

We had a set of keys in our hand to go and look at one last house when we noticed a pillar of black smoke. There was a house on fire somewhere. The further north we drove, the more obvious it was that the fire was only a couple blocks east of the road we were on. Being the sick, morbid, and depraved people we are, we decided to take a detour.

Of course, the cops and the fire department had the road with the actual fire blocked off, because as it turns out, everyone in north Idaho is sick and morbid. There were at least 20 other cars that had obviously chosen to drive the same route as us to see the fire. We were forced to go down to the next road in order to continue our journey north. As we turned, I read the street sign and commented that I thought one of the local rental companies had a listing on this road, but that we hadn't bothered with it because it was on the very top end of our price range.

Turns out, it was through the rental company my husband and I had just left. The house was actually about 100 a month over budget, but it sits on .964 acres, had a four car attached garage, a heated shop, and a very large pole barn. We immediately put in our application and we signed the lease, 3 hours after my sister had signed the closing papers on the house we had been occupying. We were in the process of making hotel reservations and obtaining a storage unit (or two) when we got the call that we had been approved.

And that is how God led us to our new home with a pillar of fire....er...smoke.

Just a note, as we were moving our stuff in, I drove down the road the burning house was on. It was a total loss. All that is left is the foundation. And I'm pretty sure they tore that out last month. I feel bad for the family that lost their house/home, but am grateful no one was hurt and that it led us to be not homeless.

Hey guess what? I'm not dead.

When I started this blog, how ever many years ago, I told my husband I was gonna be pseudo-famous and make money by sitting on the internet and writing about stupid stuff. I was so funny! I can't seem to blog for more than a few months at a time without getting distracted by something in life and totally forgetting that I even have a bl---SQUIRREL!

So, here we are almost 10 months later and I'm gonna try again. Maybe this time I can keep at it. But really, let's not set unrealistic expectations. Let's just enjoy what we have for however long my ADHD brain can hold on to it.

In the last ten months, I have moved. Twice. Gone on a vacation that wasn't really a vacation. Discovered that I am actually a really good seamstress. Turned 30 and gotten pregnant. Those last two may or may not have happened on the same day/weekend.

The moving happened when in January Larch and I realized that we were more behind than we thought and were not going to be able to catch up. We moved into the basement of my sister's house with my parents. That is to say, my sister had taken a job in Denver and my parents were living in the house she owned up here and we moved in to lower our rent and also to help them be able to make the mortgage payment so my sister could afford to rent in Denver. A month later, my sister sold her house and we moved with my parents into a slightly larger house that is really super awesome and that we didn't get keys to until 2 hours after my sister had closed on the house we were living in. That is really it's own blog post and I will get to that soon. Probably tomorrow or more likely next week.

Last month, I went on a road trip to visit my grandparents in New Mexico for the last time and to help them move into my Aunts house. I don't want to talk about that. It was great and it sucked because unless we will the lottery, I will not get to go back.

The seamstress thing was a given, it just took me more time than other people to realize the truth about my own abilities.

The pregnant and 30 thing. I turned 30 April 5th of this year. Four days earlier for April Fools Day, I had jokingly told my sister we were pregnant by sending her a picture of a positive pregnancy test I had stolen of the internet. I called my mom to warn her, in case my sister freaked out and called her. My mom then turned around and used that information to prank my dad, who then took it and pranked my grandparents. Two weeks later, what I thought was the worst hangover in recent history turned out to be morning sickness mixed with the consequences of partying hard for my brother in law's 30th birthday. No more partying for me till New Years. We are due December 26th. We do not yet know what the baby's gender is but we will be finding out on August 12th if the baby decides to cooperate.

I think that is all the major news. Johnny is 8 now and Lily is 5 and starts kindergarten this fall.

David Tennant and Boobies or Why I shouldn't buy Coffee at 10 PM

At just before midnight on Monday, I was trying to unwind from work and I took the chance that Tennille would be awake nursing Sweet Boy and texted her. This is what happened.

ME: I had a ten minute convo with CuteCoffeeBoy tonight.

Tennille: So is he gay?

(I had been debating whether or not he was straight or not straight. He is a barista after )

Me: We talked about music. He is a  musician. Which doesn't rule out gay, but we didn't talk about show tunes so...I don't know, I think my gaydar is broken. And I'm listening to PBS and I think that David Tennant is narrating a documentary about birds.

 How's the for a non sequitur?

Tennille: We are BFFs your "non-sequitur" is "NORMAL"...lol XD

Me: lol 

It's called Penquins: A Spy in the Huddle and he does 3 episodes. 

 And it's his Scottish voice not his Doctor voice. 

Tennille: I could listen to Tennant narrate the Gettysburg Address. 

Me: He could read the freaking phone book. 

Tennille: " Yep. Yes he could...*sigh* 

Me: I like the way he says pain-gwen 

 He just said boobies! I'm sure he's talking about birds but... 

Tennille: hahaha 

Me: "Here the boobies have the advantage." He wonderful is that sentence when spoken by David Tennant? 

Tennille:" Oh geeze. Too funny. 

Me: I was shopping for bra's online when he said it. Really and truly.

And that ladies and gentlemen is why I should never be allowed to drink coffee after midnight while texting.

Saturdays in Redneckville: A Sunday Hike

Like any blogger who is convinced they can become famous, I try to drive traffic to my blog by reading and commenting on other blogs. I'm not sure it works, but I have come across some blogs that I really enjoy and have begun reading regularly (because as a full time mother, full time failing housewife, and part time fabric store employee I totally have hours to waste devote to reading blogs online for the sheer enjoyment of it). One of the blogs I have become addicted to is Tilting at Windmills authored by CWMartin. He regularly writes about walks he takes with his dog, Scrappy, complete with pictures. One of these posts inspired me to take a hike as a family. Lucky for me the Seahawks had a bye week and Larch and I both have Sundays off. I told Larch I wanted to go for a hike, but I wanted a trail or a road or something to walk on because I am a wimp and smart money says at least one of us will be carrying at least one of the children at least part way back to the car. He thought about it, and picked probably the most awesome last minute destination ever.

We drove for an hour, maybe more, I was distracted by the view.

On any good hike, we start with food.

This is not a no trespassing gate. This is a keep the motorized vehicles out gate. My son pointed out that someone just drove their four wheeler around the gate. 

Lily never wants to hold Daddy's hand.

This was about a half mile in.

According to Larch, these are hallucinogenic. I will take his word for it as they also contain arsenic. 

This is blurry, but it is a really old wheelbarrow. This is how we knew we were getting close to our final destination.

Old Mine shack/shaft. Well played husband.

So what does any good North Idaho family do?

 We get closer...

and closer...

and look inside.

And we go around and find another building. We think it was an office, living space, or MAYBE a secondary entrance.

See...Daddy has to carry Lily at least some of the time.

You can't tell from this picture, but we think this is the remains of a cooking stove.

It's hunting season, so we make our dog wear an orange vest.

Still carrying Lily.

That blue out there between the close mountains and the far mountains, is Lake Pend Oreille.

While I was busy taking picture of the distant lake, the kids were doing this...

We ended the day at Superman and Lois Lane's. Superman and Larch brewed some beer that should be ready around Halloween, while we watched movies and the kids played in the dirt. And Johnny lost another tooth.

He could be a Jack O'Lantern for Halloween this year. Or a cage fighter.

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.

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.

Happy Fourth of July

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.

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

Saturdays in Redneckville: How to Camp in Large Groups for Less Than $100

We FINALLY went camping this weekend. It's mid-June and this was our first camping trip this year. We are so behind. The most redneck part of the weekend I can't write about yet. I really want to, and hopefully I will be able to soon. You will understand why I can't write about it right now when I do finally write about it in the future.

This weekend's camping trip was a first for me, and not just because it was the first trip of 2014. Rather than driving to a spot and unpacking, we drove to a lake, unloaded all our crap out of the car and into a fishing boat, a canoe, and three kayaks and crossed to the other side of the lake. The three families that showed up the first night managed to get all the gear across in 2 hours. We all decided this was great fun, but really was quite a lot of work. Worth it though, like childbirth.

When we camp, we go big. Everyone comes. Tim the Toolman, The Hot Italian, Dorkfish, and The Hot Italian's two teenage boys. Superman, Lois Lane, BamBam, CJ and Lois Lane's parents. The Artist and JZ. Mama T and Mark. And of course, our little family of four. I don't think any of us know how to camp in small numbers.

Because we camp in large numbers, we have spent YEARS finding an efficient way to camp. We used to all bring enough food for our respective family units and then we would share and swap among the other campers and everyone would go home and eat camping left overs for a week. The biggest problem with this is that we all spent way to much money on food that sat in a wet pile in a cooler all weekend and then went bad in our fridge at home in a matter of days. Then we got smart. 

When we decide to go camping, the men decide things like where to camp (heavily influenced by the women) who is bringing the chainsaw, and how much beer to buy (this is determined by calculating how fast they can drink it, how close the nearest gas station is to our camp site and how many women are pregnant, nursing, or just unlikely to drink). Lois Lane, The Artist, The Hot Italian and I then text each other endlessly for three days to arrange meals. 

If we leave for camp Friday afternoon and come home Sunday afternoon, there are 6 meals that will need to be prepared over the course of the weekend. With four families camping we each pick one meal and the other two (normally lunches) are picked up by who every volunteers (generally who ever feels rich that week). Most times we only have three of the four family units camping and two families take a breakfast and a dinner and the third family provides lunches for the who weekend. Then each family brings snacks to share and drinks for themselves. This allows those of us with small children to make sure they eat if those without chose to feed more sophisticated palates (and to feed the kids breakfast while we wait for the heavy drinkers to wake up). We went from spending between two and three hundred dollars each for one weekend of camping, to $100 or less per family for the weekend. Hallelujah!

The men would be content to eat hot dogs and chili all weekend. Us women, we have to share tents with them. 

I like the make ahead kind of meals. I made a Taco Soup for Friday night, packed it up in gallon sized zipper bags and reheated it on a camp stove in my cast iron dutch oven. Breakfast was biscuits and gravy. The gravy was made from packets and the biscuits were baked at home before we left with the help of Tennille.

About those biscuits. I didn't have any biscuits and I didn't have time to run to the store, so we made them from scratch. The first time, Tennille grabbed what she thought was a measuring spoon, so we had to eyeball our baking soda. They tasted off and salty so we tried again. This time, she read the recipe as tablespoons when it was teaspoons and again we had salty weird biscuits. Larch said they tasted like fish. Our final two batches were perfect. (With ten adults, three teenagers, two kids and two toddlers, you need two batches of biscuits).

Including the alcohol, hand sanitizer and band aids I think we spent about $85 on this camping trip.