Roasting Hot Dogs in the Rain--This is What Memories are Made Of!

So this past weekend we had an unexpected--and welcome--reprieve from two consecutive weeks of dry and hot (90-degree+) temperatures:  Rain!

BabyD had some friends over for a last-fling-before-school-starts sleep over.

The girls didn't let a little rain hinder their plans for a weenie roast in the back yard.
They just adapted to the circumstances...

 With umbrellas!

It was a little silly, but the steady, light rain wasn't even enough to put out the campfire.

I'm the one who got wet. So, this 11YO better remember days like these in a few years when she thinks I'm the meanest mom in the whole-side world.






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Check Out My Guest Post

My goode friend Cris, over at Goodeness Gracious, is doing a series on Super Mommy Secrets.
She asked me to share some ideas for packing school lunches.
So, stop by and check it out, if you have kids heading back to school in a few weeks!

Sometimes Less is More

Thanks to everyone passing along thoughts and prayers for LittleD, after the sudden death of her friend.
It's been so encouraging to see how the seventh grade girls at school and church have really pulled together to support each other. And the staff at our school has been so amazing and supportive. I'm so thankful my kids are surrounded by a network of Christian teachers who can pour on the love when they really need it.
Even with heavy hearts, the kids pulled of three performances of the school musical, dedicated to the memory of their friend, who was part of the drama team. I, and a lot of others, wondered if they could do it. But it seems the kids needed to do it to let off some steam and emotion.
We hit rock-bottom over the weekend when we went to the viewing. I think everyone in two counties showed up. It's so hard to see a 12 year-old girl lying in a casket.

This week has gone much, much better. In spite of a mighty busy work schedule the last few days. Emotionally, we had to shift gears because BabyD turned 11 this week.
Or, as she tells me, "officially pre-teen now."

We did dinner out during the week, then Party Day came Friday evening.
She invited just three friends over. The big, crazy girl party is just not her style. Unfortunately, only two of her pals could make it, but that was okay.

They were undeterred.
The girls made their own pizzas. Add strawberries, a little cake, ice cream and a Wii, and you've got the makin's for a great party.
At least that's what my guests told me.

Friend 1, eating ice cream: "You know, this is really nice."
Friend 2: "Yeah, it is."
Me: "What's nice?"
Friend 1: "Just us. Not a bunch of crazy kids running around."
Friend 2: "Or girls screaming."
BabyD: "Or acting crazy."

Wow. This is all it takes to make 11 year-olds happy?
No more Mom Guilt for me!
So I don't throw big, giant parties for my kids with bounce houses and entertainment.
Looks like less can be more!
Lesson learned.
I do still feel guilty for getting BabyD a store-bought cake this year. But the way my work week played out, there was no getting one made. I did put my own candles on it...

Nothin' Like Barf to Ring in the Week!

I wrote this post on Monday this week, but for the life me, I don't know why I didn't hit "publish". Could've sworn I did!

LittleD was up bright and early this morning... throwing up. In her bed.

Yup, I had a load of laundry going before 5 am this morning.

Came out of no where. I hope she just ate something disagreeable yesterday. She really didn't have a fever (98.9).

So, here I am: 8:55 am on a Monday on the blog, in my PJs and robe, dog lying on my feet, watching The Andy Griffith Show and I'm thinking "boy, I'm glad I don''t have to go out in the -5 degree weather!"
What a life! (except for the barf)

It was a busy weekend. I had to work a trade show--where I had a real life, face-to-face meet up with Bloggy Pal Jent at From My Front Porch...

LittleD tagged along with me. One of my friends was amongst the show organizers and her husband was out of town, so she contracted with LittleD to baby sit her 1-year-old. Now this was LittleD's first paid babysitting job. She did great and kept the Babe entertained the whole time. The only crying was during the diaper change (and it was the Babe, not LittleD).

I did have to step in to help with the diaper duty... Yes, it was the full prize the first time. Since this was LittleD's first, she needed a little guidance on the details. So, now I'm trying to collect my fee as a diapering subcontractor. Don't you think LittleD owes me a cut of the profit? I did all the wiping! She seems to think I do these things for free. I'm trying to teach her some basic economics. Some how, I don't think she's going to ante up...

Now LittleD is loaded. Only she's not looking to go out and spend it right away. She's saving up to go on a mission trip with our church. Hopefully next year. She's very committed to earning the money herself--which I think is great. She just seems.... sniff... so grown up... sniff.

Meanwhile, I'm going to do the Meet Me On Monday link up.


When BabyD comes home, I'm sure she'll want to add to the post, as has become her thing lately. Until then, you can see my boring old answers:

Questions:
1. What is your favorite kind of cheese?
A: Asiago, especially on scrambled eggs with mushrooms. Otherwise, it used to be this caraway seed Havarti that I can't find anymore.
2. What size is your bed?
A: Queen. Big mistake. Should've bought the king when we had the chance. It just seemed so big back then... before we had kids, who like to snuggle.
3. What is your most overused phrase?
A: Lately I've been finding myself saying "really?" I used to annoy one of my coworkers with "Look at me!", but I think I've broken that one.
4. Green or purple grapes?
A: Purple. Actually black seedless, if they're on sale. Seems like green are always the cheap ones. 5. Shower, morning or night?
A: Morning or else the previously mentioned coworkers would say "Look at you!" because of my hair's ability to channel Medusa overnight.

Weird Halloween Request: What Would You Do?

So I was doing LittleD's hair to go with her fancy, dancy princess get-up for Halloween.

It felt more like a dry-run for the prom, not just a couple hours of trick-or-treating and a party at the church. She's really, really into doing her hair PERFECTLY right now.

She looked especially pretty in the fancy ball gown (former bridesmaid dress) and opera gloves that were a total deal at my favorite bargain haunt: The Willy

BabyD, meanwhile, was getting decked-out as a moose.

Yes, a moose. Go figure. But she loves moose (meeses?).

She wore all brown and I made some really BIG antlers out of light brown felt, that I stuffed and sewed to a brown hat. She was so wide, she couldn't fit in the car! It was very funny. She refused to let me take her picture.

Anyway, I heard a thumping on our front door.

Couldn't possibly trick-or-treaters.
In 15 years we've never had a single one. (We sort of live out side of town, on a hill, up a long gravel lane.)

I peek out the widow to see a teen-aged boy (maybe old enough to drive?) in a full-body gorilla suit--minus the head. With him is a girl dressed in surgical scrubs and all kinds of blood on her face and neck. She was, maybe, 8 or 9. For one brief moment, I thought the girl might be injured with a nose bleed.

I open the door, all the while trying to place how the heck I know these kids. Because there's NO WAY total strangers would venture up our drive to trick-or-treat.

And, if they did, I wasn't prepared.

So, they were going to get either a slice of bread or a carrot!

The Headless-Ape Boy says to me, "I know this is weird, but, can she use your bathroom?"

"What?" I said, totally confused.

"Can she use your bathroom?"

"My bathroom? You are kidding right?" I couldn't believe this. I'm starting to wonder if this is a set up for a robbery.

"I told her we're almost to town, but she says she can't hold it."

On cue, Bloody Girl grabs her pants and starts doing a little dance, whining, "I really got to gooooo."

"This is really weird," I said.

"I really have to peeeeee," she whines.

"Ok." I relented and walked her to the bathroom by the kitchen. Leaving Headless-Ape Boy on the front step.

"Thank you," Bloody said.

Now what should I do?

Like any good mother, I decided to have a Positive Impact on the Youth of Today. So, I stood out the door as she did her "stuff", and imparted some wise advice on this child (or "lectured" as my kids would put it):

"You know this is really strange. You couldn't hold it? When I was your age, my mom would make me pee on a bush. By the road. I've peed on lots of bushes. And trees. Right by the road. Next time, you need to pull over and go in the weeds. Or just learn to hold it. You really shouldn't use a total stranger's bathroom."

I admit it: I was listening through the door. I wanted to make sure she wasn't plugging my commode. Or stealing my towel. Or pocketing my hand lotion.

Who knows? This was really weird.

I was relieved that Headless-Ape Boy was still standing on my porch and not stealing the tires off my car or something. With that they took off.

Now, is that not the weirdest Halloween request ever?
I was afraid we'd run into them at the church party.
Or, better yet, we would!!!

Would you have let Bloody Girl in to pee?

I would never stop at a total stranger's house no matter how bad my kid has to go! My girls can just pick a tree. (They've never taken me up on the offer--hence, they've also learned to go before we leave the house!!)

Out of the Mouths of Babes!

Had a funny Mom Moment last week that made me SO appreciate my girls' youth.

When I look at my two daughters, every day they seem closer to young women than the babies I brought home from the hospital 12 and 10 years ago. I have to smile and treasure those moments when they still seem little... and blissfully naive about the world.

That was last week when LittleD, BabyD and I were running around town, doing our weekend stuff. We topped to get something to eat and the girls were acting royally silly and goofing off. While we were laughing, I declared to the lady at the counter, "These aren't my kids--they belong to my husband."

To which BabyD says, "How can we NOT be your kids? You're married to Daddy. If he didn't have a wife, how could he have kids?"

I said (trying really, really hard not to laugh), "Hmmm... I suppose you're right."

"Duh, Mom," she said, shaking her head.

I had to quickly shush LittleD, who was about to set her sister straight. Why ruin the innocence? BabyD's in fifth grade, and just a couple months from That Health Class Topic that will change everything.

I like watching them grow, but it makes me sad to see those days of innocence pass away. Until then, I'll enjoy what I can!

I was also blessed with a blogging award last week:

Thanks to Shannon over at Augmented Gem for the honor.

These are the rules attached to The Versatile Blogger:
1. Accept the award. Post it on your blog with the name of the person who has granted the award and his or her blog link.
2. Share 7 things about yourself.
3. Pass it along to 15 blogs you've recently discovered.
4. Contact those blog owners and let them know they've been chosen.

Here are 7 things about me (wow! this is harder than it looks!):

1. Clutter drives me nuts... especially in my kitchen. (I'm nearing insanity right now!)

2. I am a Girl Scout leader. It's such a great organization. I'm thankful I can have an impact on my troop of girls and--hopefully--teach them leadership skills that will be life-long. I also get to have all sorts of adventures, like skiing, snow tubing, and rock climbing. If you need cookies, I can hook you up!

3. I could easily be a hypocondriac, but I'm too logical to allow that to happen. So, it translates as being a germ-o-phobe.

4. I almost majored in architecture in college. I opted out, because I didn't want to spend my career remodeling kitchens. I had a "go big or go home" attitude back then.

5. My favorite pass time is junkin' at flea markets and rummage sales. I'm not too proud to buy other people's junk, er, treasures. It's all about the bargain.

6. I can't stand a weak handshake. Especially the "dead fish."

7. One of these days I'm going to take fiddle lessons, so I can play Under the Double Eagle like a pro.

Blogs I'm passing this award on to:
Wanna Buy a Duck

The Frump Factor

Work, Wife, Mom... Life!

Walking the Off-Beaten Path

Yours, Mine and Ours

Sanity is Over Rated

You Can't Google Everything

Ben and Carrie Tracks

From My Front Porch

Confessions of a Semi-Slacker Mom

Everyday Ruralty

My Hebrew Name is Cinderella

Scene of the Grime

Learning to Fly

The girls were off school for fall break this past week.
Yeah, I know it's early. But it always lands whenever the teacher convention is for Christian school teachers in this area. Sometimes it's earlier than others.

So, we opted to go visit the 'rents (The Husband's parents, that is) for the four-day weekend.

Among our adventures was witnessing a car accident (which prompted a short post on Friday). That has BabyD a little shaken up. We weren't involved, but could've been if The Husband hadn't stopped soon enough. Grandma took the girls shopping and sprung for a new dress for each of them. (Note to self: Time to go get annual pictures taken, now that they have something to wear.) And the girls got an OVERLOAD on the Disney Channel--hours and hours and hours of it. (For those who don't know, among my qualifications for World's Meanest Mom is my ongoing refusal to get cable--or in our case, satellite--because I'm too cheap to pay for it.) My feeling about pay-TV was only reinforced as my kids demonstrated that in the very presence of access to 150 channels they become drooling idiots, wrapped in blankets and glued to a chair. (And I can't stand that Zac and Cody!! But I digress...)

The real highlight of our weekend was another lesson in the girls leaning to fly.
Only in this family, that means FLY FISHING.
I always thought fishing was the most boring past-time, until I married into a family of fly fishermen (and women).

This version of the sport is way-more stimulating than sittin' around watching the bobber float. (I'm yawning just thinking about it...) And--wait there's more!--the REAL bonus is: You don't have to touch any worms!!!! (There is NOTHING GROSSER on this planet than worms!!! I digress, once again...)

Isn't this how time with your grandparents should be?
Grandpa is working with LittleD on her casting.
Grandma is supervising BabyD's technique.

Anyway, except for a stiff breeze that will throw your line off, God blessed us with a GORGEOUS fall day for nabbing some rainbow trout. That is, for everybody but me!

I tried everything...

I tried dry flies...

I tried bright-colored flies...

I even tried the notorious SpongeBob fly...

And those stupid, stupid fish just ignored me! In 20 years, I have never caught a fish!

But, I still enjoy the challenge. And that's exactly what it is. The beauty of fishing for trout is you can see those fish-- literally! Look at them:

And they taunted me. Circling the lure, over and over. And nary a nibble.

This was only the second time the girls have really fly-fished. They did great! Each of them snagged four trout. We did catch-and-release. While I like trout, the 'rents hate to eat it and The Husband is allergic. I, however, true to my history, didn't have to worry about it... because I caught NONE!!!

But it was still a great day!

If I get motivated this week, I may have to blog about the aspects of our visit.

Meet Me On Monday Questions:
1. What is the best dish you can make?
A: Grilled pork chops--so good, they need nothing on them!
2. How often do you change your sheets?
A: Every Saturday.
3. What is the longest car trip you have ever taken?
A: Without stopping for more than a potty break? 3 days in a car to Maine when I was a kid. My dad wouldn't spring for a hotel!
4. What is your favorite fruit?
A: Watermelon! Or whatever is in season!
5. Would you rather have breakfast for dinner or dinner for breakfast?
A: Dinner for breakfast. Always.

I Don't Do My Hair... My Hair Does Me

I've long contended that I don't do my hair, but my hair does me.

I don't know what was going on today, but I had four--count them: 4!!--people tell me my hair looked really, really good today.

What the heck was going on? I don't know!

All I did was (hold on to your seats, ladies, here comes The BigD Beauty Tip O' The Week):

Part it on the other side.

(I can hear the breath being sucked out of you in utter shock from here!)

I guess I haven't done that in a while, and it seems it was quite the hit. Go figure.

Honestly, if I had my way, I'd revert to an era when hats were socially acceptable on a day-to-day basis. And not baseball caps, either.

I would've made a darn-good royal. I don't know why we commoners can't wear hats, too. I think all of us women who have frizzy locks, cow licks and graying tresses need to band together to bring back The Hat as a common, everyday fashion accessory!

Is anyone with me on this one?

You can't have a Bad Hair Day, when you have a Great Hat Day!

I must admit, I did give this a try once. A few years ago, my church was having a ladies dinner/event one evening that had a hat theme. So, I say to myself, just giddy with excitement, "What better excuse to wear a hat all day?"

So, I put on the perfect chapeau to compliment my favorite suit, which--if I say so myself--resulted in a lovely spring ensemble ready to take on anything. And I went to work, beaming.

The second person I run into was my boss. He started to ask me something, then just stopped. I prompted him to continue. His reply?

"I had something to say, but the hat totally distracted me."

I need a new boss.

This Week's Working Mom Wednesday Question:
#1. Having a career/job makes me a better/ worse mother. (why/why not?)
A: I think it makes me better. I just don't have the temperament of those women who stay home with their kids all day. God has blessed me with a certain level of patience, to which He is adding to daily. However, I don't think He doled out that much to me.

My girls know a lot about what I do. They spend time (entire days, sometimes) with me at my work. I think I've helped them have some perspective on career options.

I will, however, instill in them that they have a choice about working--not the message I got from my working mom. I went into motherhood pretty-much thinking I had to work to be a productive member of the marriage/family. I never considered not working--until I had kids. I just didn't know any better, I guess.

Regardless, I really enjoy my work and I think I'd be a really anal, obsessive, helicopter mom if I didn't. And I think that makes my kids better, too.

Livin' Out of Town: An Appreciation for the Farm Life

Today, I'm part of a group linkup "Real Farmwives of America." Our hostess is Heather at 3 Kids and Lots of Pigs as part of her regular "Farmer Friday" feature. The question posed to us all is:

"How did you get here?" My family's farm story.

As you know, I have two daughters. And they are becoming a statistic.
Like so many Americans, they are growing up further away from the farm than the generation before them.

I grew up on a small farm with lots going on in various phases and combinations--corn, tobacco, hogs, cattle, goats, chickens, pickling cucumbers. Not many like it anymore in today's world of specialization. But it was a great place to grow up.

I realized, even before they were born, my kids would not grow up with the experiences I had: hours mending fences with my dad, feeding goats, castrating pigs, rounding up loose cows, walking the field to pick up corn the combine missed (we were a thrifty bunch), gathering and cleaning eggs for the local grocery, stripping tobacco. Those were some of the sights, sounds and smells of my youth. (To this day, nothing smells as sweet as a tobacco barn in the fall... nothing like a burning cigarette!)

Those were the experiences, along with my years in FFA and 4H, that really shaped my education and career choices.

So, after a few years in the 'burbs, when The Husband and I had to uproot and move back to Indiana, I succeeded in convincing him to buy our 10-acre plot of land a few miles outside of our little town. Here, we rent out the "back 40", er, 7 (along with a couple adjoining neighbors) to a local farmer, who share-crops corn or soybeans with us every year.

Because of this little homestead, my girls have had the opportunity to sample some of the blessings and experiences that their suburban classmates are missing, like riding a combine in the fall and watching the soybeans sprout in the spring. They have the chance to work with the dairy cows on a generous neighbor's farm for their 4H projects, learning what's involved in caring for large animals (including the manure!). They have friends who raise pigs and friends who raise sheep. This life comes with an appreciation that our food doesn't just come from Kroger.
While it's not exactly the same as growing up on a real-live working farm, it's the best I can provide--and that is something very important to me.

So, I don't call myself a "Farmwife" my any measure. That would be an insult to all those hard-working gals married to real farmers.

If you ask The Husband, he's more likely tell you I'm the farmer around here.

Our little plot of land (which is just enough to require us to file an Agricultural Tax Form with the IRS each year) doesn't need the blood, sweat and tears that so many American families put forth every day to feed some 150 other people.

Instead, my day-to-day job is more of a support role, in which I get to educate and communicate with farmers, as well as veterinarians and consumers about issues related to animal health and care and food safety. While I play a very small part in a very big picture, I'm proud that I can be involved with the industry I love.

If you want to check out other stories of Real Farmwives of Indiana, visit my friends at:

3 Kids and Lots of Pigs

2 Maids A Milking

A Latte with Ott, A

Alarm Clock Wars

Beyer Beware

Farm Girl Follies

Fence Row to Fence Row

Four Ransoms and a Farm

Going Jane

GOODEness Gracious

Hoosier Farm Babe

My Front Porch

On the Banks of Squaw Creek

Life is a Highway and Mine's Surrounded by Corn

Walking the Off-Beaten Path

Heart Attack at 41?

I think I came as close to one as a mom could yesterday. The girls and I were washing cows at the fair. I was talking to someone in the barn when people start yelling for me to come. My 10 yo daughter (Baby D) was lying in the mud, curled up and crying.
She was knocked down and stomped twice by another kid's cow that she was walking to the water tank. That old girl just freaked for no reason on her.
Praise God she ended up with only bruises and scrapes!
I can't describe the feeling in my gut when I saw her! And I couldn't get there fast enough!
This was a good reminder to the kids that these are really, really big and sometimes unpredictable animals. It could've been a lot worse!
The other blessing to this is: after a shower, some ice, Advil and Band Aids, Baby D went on to show her calf and compete in showmanship. I'm grateful she's not totally frightened of handling the cattle. I thought that showed a lot of courage for a 10 yo!
the girls did well in the show and had a fun day overall--which is the reason for all this.
PS: this is a big experiment. It's my first remote post from my Blackberry, so I hope it works!