The weather is turning a little cooler, the calendar is creeping toward my birthday (October 25th) and all the vegetation that is left after this debilitating drought is slowly turning from green to gold and dropping to the ground. My thoughts turn toward Halloween costumes for my family of five, yes we all dress up together, children's Halloween parties for our moms group, my husbands birthday party, and preparing for winter on the farm. I hate feeling like the grasshopper that sang all summer, so we begin stockpiling hay, grain, and stall bedding. We clean out the messes in the barn and fix any fencing that has gone all summer but wont make it through the winter. We cut firewood and collect candles for the inevitable power outages where we will be stuck with no heat, water or power. But even with all the work to do, this is my favorite time of year hands down. And it's not just the chill in the air, bringing out the kids long sleeved shirts and snow boots, or the heavier meal plans in the near future, but the ghosts that really get me.
Last night on a coveted mom's night out, we went in search of the infamous Spook Light. In general terms, a spook light is a will-o'-the-wisp or perhaps the Latin term with translates to "foolish fire." But for us in southwest Missouri, there is only one Spook Light. Out by the Oklahoma border, there's a road lovingly called the "devil's promenade" where a mysterious light appears usually between 10 and midnight. The light can be yellow, orange, green or sometimes blue and can do any number of things from rolling through the woods to frolicking in the fields or even just hanging out on the horizon doing nothing. There are dozens of legends about where the light came from ranging from old Indian spirits to natural gas balls or even traffic reflections.
Last night, what we saw was a simple orange light. Just a light. One that came and went without any reason that I could tell. Some of my friends said it was a reflection from car traffic, some said it was a flashlight. I'm seeing a theme here. I really don't know what it was, just that it was awfully mysterious, just like the Spook Light has always been. But this isn't my first run in with something unexplainable.
When I was little, my mom owned an interior decorating business. She used to work with a fundraiser to benefit SIDS that required her to decorate a room in a show house of the committee's choice. One year in particular, they chose the Longview Farm outside Kansas City. Go ahead, look it up. A marvel of it's age, Longview is about 1700 acres and built in 1910's with over 48 rooms. It's also a creepy place. While she was decorating her assigned room on the top floor of the mansion, my brother and I had pretty much the run of the place. One afternoon we went exploring down the main staircase and at the first landing we stopped dead. I remember a strange eerie feeling just standing there. Probably my first hint of otherworldly intuition. No real reason to feel strange, but I did. And I remember hustling out of there in a hurry.
The week after my mom finished up the show house, she got a local magazine in the mail. The topic of the magazine was local haunts, with a picture of the stairway landing at Longview Mansion being one of it's primary locales. I can agree with that byline wholeheartedly.
When I was a little older, my first beau took me out to the Amarugia Higlands. At the time I thought it was a National forest, but it turns out that it's a wetlands preserve. Mostly known for local satanic rituals, the Amarugia Ridge Runner, similar to the "Jersey Devil", is a local superstition. We've spent many nights driving around the amarugia's looking for the ridge runner, with only superficial findings that left us all winded and headed back to the city.
In high school I went out on a search for spirits which landed us in Warsaw Missouri at a burned down farmstead. The silo was the only thing left standing on the farm, having all burnt down twenty years ago. The silo is gutted inside, and you can see nothing of the roof except starry night sky. But step back to the road and wait for a bit and you'll see the dark shadow of a fallen firefighter who died in the blaze pacing the top of the silo back and forth, over and over. I did.
We joke at our farm that we have leprechauns or maybe Fae. Things seem to disappear, reappear and sometimes even fix themselves without any explaination. We have found fencing that had to have been fixed with human hands but neither of us had done it. We have found fence posts lying on the ground that aren't the brand we buy, and neither of us has left them there. Who would? My husband swears he has personally seen a cougar in our yard, and with a little prodding he admits that he has seen some type of werewolf beast that's locally called the "momo" short for Missouri Monster but he doesn't want to sound crazy. But I believe him. We've had too many disappearing goats, dogs and cats not to.
Maybe I just want to believe that something else is out there, not in space, but sharing this earth with us. Honestly, humans can be so awful to each other, there is probably nothing to fear at all from ghosts, ghouls and monsters. It's the reason our ancestors left bowls of honey or milk outside their doors for the local fae. And if there's nothing there at all except the barn cats drinking the milk, then it serves only the purpose to make each fall a little more spooky. Tis the season.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Not yo' Daddy
Tomorrow is our anniversary. Nine years. Sounds like a long time but it doesn't feel like any time at all, and yet here we are together, three kids later still plugging away, happy as clams I guess. I'm not sure if we married just out of love or maybe with a bit of good business sense. I married a man who is every bit as driven by success as I am. With our kids being so young, sometimes success is measured by how much you can provide for their happiness without taking any happiness away from them. Some people say that men marry women who are just like their mothers, and girls marry men who are like their daddies. For my husband, that couldn't be less true.
My father is a drunk. He's been a drunk my entire life. He's also a lawyer, and usually when he's drunk he either sits around watching TV or he's mean to my mom, after all a lawyer's great at arguing. I learned a lot about using language as a weapon from him, some of it I wish I didn't know. He's not a discriminator so he is mean to everyone, but my mother was the only one who was contractually obligated to put up with it. After 18 years she decided it was enough. He is the best example of who not to marry and was always my template to compare future suitors to, if they didn't fit, they're in. My father was a lousy parent, an only child, and a great cook. Some of the time he was drunk on the couch he watched Jeff Smith "The Frugal Gourmet" cook on TV. I still have one of this cookbooks in my house. I won't make anything from it for my kids, too much like feeding them the poisoned cool aid.
When I met my husband, he said he was looking for a wife. Just like that. No pretense about it. He doesn't beat around the bush much. Since I lived about 200 miles away from his hometown when we started dating, I asked him why he hadn't found anyone there. He said that he'd dated a couple women and that he could tell right off that they weren't the one, so he didn't ask for a second date. Apparently he could tell right away that I was the one. I could say the same about him.
Other than a wife, all my husband wanted was kids. At least two. Even after the birth of our first son, he was stuck on having at least one more baby. This drove me crazy thinking that just myself and our son weren't enough for him. When my daughter was born, he seemed complete, happy. Our third baby was just icing on the cake. He is a wonderful, doting father, never mean to the kids, happy to teach them anything he knows from tying their shoes to playing the piano. He only drinks occasionally, or socially, just at bbq's where the other dads are having one. He couldn't be a further comparison to my father.
My mother once told me that I would know I was ready to have a baby when all I wanted to do was be a mommy. Because once you're a mommy, there's nothing else in the world that matters as much. I believe her. But my father said that he wanted a family once but now all that matters is how much he can drink. And all my husband has ever wanted was to be a family, and now he is preoccupied with other things like work, but nothing matters as much as his family does. And that's just perfect for me. Happy anniversary babe.
My father is a drunk. He's been a drunk my entire life. He's also a lawyer, and usually when he's drunk he either sits around watching TV or he's mean to my mom, after all a lawyer's great at arguing. I learned a lot about using language as a weapon from him, some of it I wish I didn't know. He's not a discriminator so he is mean to everyone, but my mother was the only one who was contractually obligated to put up with it. After 18 years she decided it was enough. He is the best example of who not to marry and was always my template to compare future suitors to, if they didn't fit, they're in. My father was a lousy parent, an only child, and a great cook. Some of the time he was drunk on the couch he watched Jeff Smith "The Frugal Gourmet" cook on TV. I still have one of this cookbooks in my house. I won't make anything from it for my kids, too much like feeding them the poisoned cool aid.
When I met my husband, he said he was looking for a wife. Just like that. No pretense about it. He doesn't beat around the bush much. Since I lived about 200 miles away from his hometown when we started dating, I asked him why he hadn't found anyone there. He said that he'd dated a couple women and that he could tell right off that they weren't the one, so he didn't ask for a second date. Apparently he could tell right away that I was the one. I could say the same about him.
Other than a wife, all my husband wanted was kids. At least two. Even after the birth of our first son, he was stuck on having at least one more baby. This drove me crazy thinking that just myself and our son weren't enough for him. When my daughter was born, he seemed complete, happy. Our third baby was just icing on the cake. He is a wonderful, doting father, never mean to the kids, happy to teach them anything he knows from tying their shoes to playing the piano. He only drinks occasionally, or socially, just at bbq's where the other dads are having one. He couldn't be a further comparison to my father.
My mother once told me that I would know I was ready to have a baby when all I wanted to do was be a mommy. Because once you're a mommy, there's nothing else in the world that matters as much. I believe her. But my father said that he wanted a family once but now all that matters is how much he can drink. And all my husband has ever wanted was to be a family, and now he is preoccupied with other things like work, but nothing matters as much as his family does. And that's just perfect for me. Happy anniversary babe.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Ten Commandments of Grocery Shopping with Kids
I go to the grocery store once every two weeks. On payday. It a big box store that pretty much carries anything you'd ever want. The kind my husband plans to head for during the zombie apocaplypse. I buy the bulk of our groceries in one large trip, meals planned and coupons clipped. We will only go back to the store for perishables if we run out. I take all three of my kids. And you will NEVER catch them screaming in the store. NEVER. It's not allowed. Most people ask me how I manage this, or they simply bask in the adorableness that is my family on a shopping trip. Don't believe it? Try a trip my way and see. I'm going to give you all the "holy commandments" for shopping with kids.
First commandment- Make a list. This is the best rule for anyone going with kids, and those of you on a budget. Impulse buys really rack up your bill, and they waste time which will eventually lead to crankier kids. I plan out a certain number of meals, in most cases 12 because I figure we will either eat out or eat leftovers two nights in a two week period. Dinners only, then add snacks and lunch options for myself and the kids thinking that my husband will be at work during the day.
Second Commandment- Organize your list according to your store. I know where things are in my store and so should you. Make your list and then copy it according to where things are stored to save time running in circles. I organize right to left, in a round pattern, so that when I walk into the store, I visit the right front, then right back, then left back then left front of the store. This also neatly bypasses the toy department. This way you only have to walk around the store ONCE.
Third Commandment- Let the kids help. Really. Let them help. I don't buy many items that are in glass bottles, mainly food is sold in plastic or cardboard boxes, so what's the harm in letting them pick up the item and toss it into the cart? We make a game out of it. My older kids hang onto the cart and ride holding onto the outside with their feet on the cart rail. When I get to an item I need, then I say what the item is, and how many we need and they get to retrieve it from the shelf and toss it in. This allows me to have enough time to make goo goo faces at the baby and it keeps them engaged in the activity and makes people think you're super mom because your aren't shrieking at the top of your lungs "DONT TOUCH THAT!!!!"
As a side note, I will say that your childrens safety in public is your first priority. By using this commandment, you will gain the ability to just look at your kids, instead of turning your attention from them to decide which products to buy.
Fourth Commandment- Let the kids pickout their own snacks. Unless you're on a super tight budget, let the kids pick out their own snack brands. So what if they want the Angry Bird gummies instead of the cheaper off brand. It will save you .30 but they're more likely to eat things they've picked out themselves. If I let them get My Little Pony toothpaste, they'll ask to brush their teeth instead of acting like it's a chore. I wish they made cartoon branded cleaning supplies.
Fifth Commandment- Make it a game. I play a variety of games with my older kids, ages 4 and 2. My oldest son loves I spy in the produce department. I tell him what we need, then he has to look for it. Then I let him get a bag and count out the number we need. For my daughter, I ask her to pronounce all the foods we are passing on the way to whatever we need. Can you say asparagus???
Sixth Commandment- Do not take hungry or tired children shopping. I know sometimes you just HAVE to stop and pick up something for dinner. I will usually pick up takeout before I'll set foot in the store with hunrgy or tired kids. Plan a shopping trip well before nap time, and after either lunch or breakfast. This will cut down on low blood sugar fits in the isles, or your kids trying to tear open all the packages before you get home. And if you're one of those people at the store at midnight with a child under ten, and it's NOT the zombie apocalypse, I think you should be flogged.
Seventh Commandment- If you find yourself ignoring the Sixth Commandment, or you're just really stuck in a jam (like your husbands family is coming over in two hours for dinner and you havent even showered today), then listen up. Make a race out of shopping. I'll push the cart and let the older two kids trot after me while I'm saying "don't get me, don't get me", and they'll giggle "gonna get you, gonna get you!" Sometimes the giggling is a little louder than I'd like, but most people would prefer a laughing child that a fit throwing child. This works if your kids are constantly running away from you in a store, it's a way to get them to run with/after you which is the first step toward getting them to stop running away! It's a way to speed things up when they're nearing their patience limit. And it allows me to get to the products I need quickly, without them all wiggling in the basket and sniping at each other.
Eighth Commandment- Have a marching song. We love Carly Simon's Winnie the Pooh song "Sing Ho." See if you can find it on You tube, it's awesome. Anytime I need them to follow me quickly and mostly quietly, I start singing "Sing Hooooo, for the life of a bear, sing Hooooo for the expedition!" They will both fall in line behind me like good little soldiers and keep marching until I finish the song. Sometimes they sing along, and there is nothing cuter than my two year old marching. Even in the grocery store.
Ninth Commandment- If all else fails, cut your losses. Always have an escape plan. Just get enough food to get you through a day or two and cut your losses. Find a fast checkout line, and JET.
Tenth Commandment- Grocery shopping is a team effort. If I forget something that I just NEED to make dinner (chardonnay in beef stroganoff, sour cream for tacos, olives for spaghetti) and I'll have my husband pick up an item or two on his way home from work. He never minds. I just convince him that whatever item I need is ESSENTIAL for whatever culinary masterpiece I'm making for dinner. If he wants to eat, he has to bring it home.
First commandment- Make a list. This is the best rule for anyone going with kids, and those of you on a budget. Impulse buys really rack up your bill, and they waste time which will eventually lead to crankier kids. I plan out a certain number of meals, in most cases 12 because I figure we will either eat out or eat leftovers two nights in a two week period. Dinners only, then add snacks and lunch options for myself and the kids thinking that my husband will be at work during the day.
Second Commandment- Organize your list according to your store. I know where things are in my store and so should you. Make your list and then copy it according to where things are stored to save time running in circles. I organize right to left, in a round pattern, so that when I walk into the store, I visit the right front, then right back, then left back then left front of the store. This also neatly bypasses the toy department. This way you only have to walk around the store ONCE.
Third Commandment- Let the kids help. Really. Let them help. I don't buy many items that are in glass bottles, mainly food is sold in plastic or cardboard boxes, so what's the harm in letting them pick up the item and toss it into the cart? We make a game out of it. My older kids hang onto the cart and ride holding onto the outside with their feet on the cart rail. When I get to an item I need, then I say what the item is, and how many we need and they get to retrieve it from the shelf and toss it in. This allows me to have enough time to make goo goo faces at the baby and it keeps them engaged in the activity and makes people think you're super mom because your aren't shrieking at the top of your lungs "DONT TOUCH THAT!!!!"
As a side note, I will say that your childrens safety in public is your first priority. By using this commandment, you will gain the ability to just look at your kids, instead of turning your attention from them to decide which products to buy.
Fourth Commandment- Let the kids pickout their own snacks. Unless you're on a super tight budget, let the kids pick out their own snack brands. So what if they want the Angry Bird gummies instead of the cheaper off brand. It will save you .30 but they're more likely to eat things they've picked out themselves. If I let them get My Little Pony toothpaste, they'll ask to brush their teeth instead of acting like it's a chore. I wish they made cartoon branded cleaning supplies.
Fifth Commandment- Make it a game. I play a variety of games with my older kids, ages 4 and 2. My oldest son loves I spy in the produce department. I tell him what we need, then he has to look for it. Then I let him get a bag and count out the number we need. For my daughter, I ask her to pronounce all the foods we are passing on the way to whatever we need. Can you say asparagus???
Sixth Commandment- Do not take hungry or tired children shopping. I know sometimes you just HAVE to stop and pick up something for dinner. I will usually pick up takeout before I'll set foot in the store with hunrgy or tired kids. Plan a shopping trip well before nap time, and after either lunch or breakfast. This will cut down on low blood sugar fits in the isles, or your kids trying to tear open all the packages before you get home. And if you're one of those people at the store at midnight with a child under ten, and it's NOT the zombie apocalypse, I think you should be flogged.
Seventh Commandment- If you find yourself ignoring the Sixth Commandment, or you're just really stuck in a jam (like your husbands family is coming over in two hours for dinner and you havent even showered today), then listen up. Make a race out of shopping. I'll push the cart and let the older two kids trot after me while I'm saying "don't get me, don't get me", and they'll giggle "gonna get you, gonna get you!" Sometimes the giggling is a little louder than I'd like, but most people would prefer a laughing child that a fit throwing child. This works if your kids are constantly running away from you in a store, it's a way to get them to run with/after you which is the first step toward getting them to stop running away! It's a way to speed things up when they're nearing their patience limit. And it allows me to get to the products I need quickly, without them all wiggling in the basket and sniping at each other.
Eighth Commandment- Have a marching song. We love Carly Simon's Winnie the Pooh song "Sing Ho." See if you can find it on You tube, it's awesome. Anytime I need them to follow me quickly and mostly quietly, I start singing "Sing Hooooo, for the life of a bear, sing Hooooo for the expedition!" They will both fall in line behind me like good little soldiers and keep marching until I finish the song. Sometimes they sing along, and there is nothing cuter than my two year old marching. Even in the grocery store.
Ninth Commandment- If all else fails, cut your losses. Always have an escape plan. Just get enough food to get you through a day or two and cut your losses. Find a fast checkout line, and JET.
Tenth Commandment- Grocery shopping is a team effort. If I forget something that I just NEED to make dinner (chardonnay in beef stroganoff, sour cream for tacos, olives for spaghetti) and I'll have my husband pick up an item or two on his way home from work. He never minds. I just convince him that whatever item I need is ESSENTIAL for whatever culinary masterpiece I'm making for dinner. If he wants to eat, he has to bring it home.
Saturday, September 1, 2012
The best worst day all year
I can handle anything. Really. I've seen and done quite a few icky things including being a med tech at the local county jail, providing medical help after the tornado here in town, and being a professional horse poop shoveller several times. It's doesn't bother me at all. There are only two days a year that I'm truly uncomfortable. Picture day and my kids birthday parties.
Picture day is the one day every year that I stress about what we wear. Are our outfits timeless enough or will we get tired of looking at them in twenty years? I have to hope that my kids, who are otherwise pretty smiley kids, will smile and pose and listen to commands on someones schedule. The less they listen, the more I yell, and the more they threaten to break into tears. Not a good combination. They have to stay clean on the way there, and usually on the way home because the clothes they get pictures taken in are not every day clothes. God forbid I have to nurse the baby in the middle of the session, because we are on someone else's time schedule. This is why I have to put faith in our local photographer and just hope for the best. The more I try to control the situation the more it deteriorates. Just try to relax and go with the flow.
Birthday parties are a completely different matter. I'm not entirely sure why I had three kids since I dislike hosting birthday parties for my kids the way some people disdain smelly homeless people, paying taxes, or receiving a mail order fruit cake. It's the pressure of providing an experience that shows how much you care about your kid, that other people enjoy too. It's too much. I stress over the location, the theme, the cake, the favors (oh GOSH how I stress over the favors), and especially the RSVP system which never seems to work. It's an exercise in gracious hosting that I have never mastered because you can see the tension on my face. I have faced down angry felons with less tension and trepidation. I'm not southern, and while everyone IS welcome at our house, it's hard for me to make people FEEL welcome at our house.
So this year my daughter had her 2nd birthday party. I had planned a wonderful barn yard themed party at the local petting zoo. I invited all our friends and their kids. I made a "dirt cake" with banana pudding and crushed oreos. I had matching table cloths, napkins and cups. I found barn animal hand puppets for favors that I wrapped in cow print fabric squares and tied with twine, and stored in a galvanized tub. It was all perfect.
Now, it hadn't rained at our place in weeks. A drought of epic proportions. A drought the likes of which we hadn't seen in 30 years or more the news said. Such a bad drought that most states have been declared disaster areas so that we can afford to buy hay for our livestock. And I schedule the party, outdoors, without a second thought. The difficulty of the day was compounded by an early trip to the vets office with a couple of our horses.But then Hurricane Issac made it to Missouri and brought with it 5 inches of rain in 12 hours or so. And everything is a wet sloppy mess outside.
The entire party is rained out, and the next thing I know, 15 kids and their parents are at my house with no activity other than out toys. I think the kids all had a wonderful time. Really, when kids have any toys that aren't their own and somewhere to play they're usually happy campers. Add in a huge cake and all you can drink pouch juice and it really is a party.
Now I know my daughter wont even remember her birthday party today, but I will. My husband always says that I'm good at making it work no matter the situation, but it doesn't always feel that way to me. Hopefully, with any luck at all, my kids will look at the pictures from today and be happy that we threw them a party at all. They won't care about the rain, or the cake, or even my tension filled face, but that in the pictures, they are smiling, and so are all their friends. And thats why I do it all.
Picture day is the one day every year that I stress about what we wear. Are our outfits timeless enough or will we get tired of looking at them in twenty years? I have to hope that my kids, who are otherwise pretty smiley kids, will smile and pose and listen to commands on someones schedule. The less they listen, the more I yell, and the more they threaten to break into tears. Not a good combination. They have to stay clean on the way there, and usually on the way home because the clothes they get pictures taken in are not every day clothes. God forbid I have to nurse the baby in the middle of the session, because we are on someone else's time schedule. This is why I have to put faith in our local photographer and just hope for the best. The more I try to control the situation the more it deteriorates. Just try to relax and go with the flow.
Birthday parties are a completely different matter. I'm not entirely sure why I had three kids since I dislike hosting birthday parties for my kids the way some people disdain smelly homeless people, paying taxes, or receiving a mail order fruit cake. It's the pressure of providing an experience that shows how much you care about your kid, that other people enjoy too. It's too much. I stress over the location, the theme, the cake, the favors (oh GOSH how I stress over the favors), and especially the RSVP system which never seems to work. It's an exercise in gracious hosting that I have never mastered because you can see the tension on my face. I have faced down angry felons with less tension and trepidation. I'm not southern, and while everyone IS welcome at our house, it's hard for me to make people FEEL welcome at our house.
So this year my daughter had her 2nd birthday party. I had planned a wonderful barn yard themed party at the local petting zoo. I invited all our friends and their kids. I made a "dirt cake" with banana pudding and crushed oreos. I had matching table cloths, napkins and cups. I found barn animal hand puppets for favors that I wrapped in cow print fabric squares and tied with twine, and stored in a galvanized tub. It was all perfect.
Now, it hadn't rained at our place in weeks. A drought of epic proportions. A drought the likes of which we hadn't seen in 30 years or more the news said. Such a bad drought that most states have been declared disaster areas so that we can afford to buy hay for our livestock. And I schedule the party, outdoors, without a second thought. The difficulty of the day was compounded by an early trip to the vets office with a couple of our horses.But then Hurricane Issac made it to Missouri and brought with it 5 inches of rain in 12 hours or so. And everything is a wet sloppy mess outside.
The entire party is rained out, and the next thing I know, 15 kids and their parents are at my house with no activity other than out toys. I think the kids all had a wonderful time. Really, when kids have any toys that aren't their own and somewhere to play they're usually happy campers. Add in a huge cake and all you can drink pouch juice and it really is a party.
Now I know my daughter wont even remember her birthday party today, but I will. My husband always says that I'm good at making it work no matter the situation, but it doesn't always feel that way to me. Hopefully, with any luck at all, my kids will look at the pictures from today and be happy that we threw them a party at all. They won't care about the rain, or the cake, or even my tension filled face, but that in the pictures, they are smiling, and so are all their friends. And thats why I do it all.
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