Parents in Low Places

Ever hear yourself say something to your kids that you instantly think, "I can't believe I just said that, what kind of parent am I?"

Don't be shy, it happens to the best (and worst of us).  Including yours truly, which probably comes as no surprise since I am a repeat recipient of the prestigious "Worst Mother of the Year" award.  In the spirit of full disclosure and helping others learn from my mistakes, I'm going to share it with you.  If someone becomes a better parent after reading my parenting faux pas, well, then I'm willing to sacrifice my dignity.

Recently, the kids and I were driving in the car, jamming out to the radio, country radio to be exact, as I heard those familiar notes that took me right back to the 90's.  Even though  I was "black" when the song came out it doesn't matter, everyone who was the ages of 12-25 knew every word to this song and still does.  Even if you hate country (like I did when I was black) you probably know at least a few words to this song.  Am I right?

Blame it all on my roots, I showed up in boots.....

I immediately cranked it up as loud as it would go because that's what you do when Garth Brooks circa 1990 comes on the radio.

And then you sing as LOUD AS YOU CAN. 

And ruined your black tie affair, the last one to know, the last one to show, I was the last one you thought you'd see there..

"Mommy, why did you turn it up SO LOUD?!"  At least I think that's what they were screaming over the blaring radio and my awesome singing...

And I saw the surprise, the fear in his eyes, when I took his glass of champagne.  And I toasted you, said honey we may be through, but you'll never hear me COMPLAINNNNNN...

"MOMMY?!?  What is this song?"

"This is Garth Brooks "Friends in Low Places", listen and learn my children," as I cranked it up a few more notches.

"CUZ I'VE GOT FRIENDS IN LOOOOW PLACES...." (hand motions included)

"Kids, listen closely because this is one of those songs you need to know in life.  Everyone knows this song and you'll be expected to sing along when it comes on no matter where you are."

"But why Mommy?!? It's SO old."

"Because kids, this song is played in every bar you'll ever go to."

WHERE THE WHISKEY DROWNS AND THE BEER CHASES MY BLUES AWAY AND I'LL BE OKAY...

Record scratch, rewind, wait, what? Am I really singing this loudly and telling my kids to learn the words to "the whiskey drowning and the beer chasing their blues away" because it's played in every BAR THEY'LL EVER GO TO?!?

Turn off the radio Casey Kasem, we've got a parenting FAIL on our hands. 

Scrambling to recover, "Uhhh I mean, every dance you'll go to in school, and at lots of concerts artists will play this song, and weddings, it's always played at weddings, because it's a classic country song.  And you'd better NEVER EVER hear it in a bar because you have no reason to be in a bar."

"How do you know they play it in bars, Mommy?"

"Uhhhh....I've just seen it on TV, now how about we listen to some Elmo or some Veggie Tales?"

But they are so over Elmo and Veggie Tales, so instead I rewrote the lyrics to this classic, everybody ought to know song. 

Friends in Low Places (Kid Style)

Blame it all on my roots, I showed up in boots
And ruined your black tie affair
I was the last one to know, the last one to show, I was the last one you thought you'd see there (because it was past my bedtime)
And I saw the surprise and the fear in his eyes when I spilled his glass of KOOLAID
Then I toasted you said Honey, we may be thru but you'll never hear me complain! (unless you make me eat spinach again)
Cuz I got friends in low places (because they're 4 feet tall)
Where the Pepsi drowns and the CHEER chases my blues away
And I'll be okay
Well, I'm not big on social graces
Think I'll slip on down to the O-aaaaa-sis
Cause I've got friends in loooooow places

I would think as a parent himself, Garth would've recorded this kid friendly version of the song but my internet searches for it have proven fruitless. 

As for me,
Well, I guess I was wrong
I just don't belong (in the good parents club)
But then, I've been there before (like alot)
Everything's alright
I'll just say goodnight
And show myself to the door
 
Cuz I'm a parent in low places.  :)

Brain Cupcakes and Blade

At the beginning of the school year, Blade's teacher sent out an email recruiting Mystery Readers.  A Mystery Reader's duties included but were not limited to, showing up on a Friday afternoon to read a couple of stories to the class.  I was ALL OVER THAT.  Mainly because it was a one parent gig.  Meaning, there were no other classroom moms to coordinate with, no who's bringing what and who wants to plan what games emails back and forth, and no PTA politics (VMPEC as it's called in our school).  None of which I am fond of, by the way. It was just me, a book, and a room full of 4th graders, one of which happens to be my Blade.  I emailed her back and told her I was in and she gave me a date of Friday, October 7th and then asked me to send her 4 clues about myself that she would read to the class to see if they could guess before I made my grand entrance.  After much deliberation and thought, I sent the following clues: 
1) I love to read and usually read at least one book a week.  It's an addiction. 
2) I love pink, shooting stuff (just not hunting, gross), riding 4 wheelers, playing with my animals, cooking, shopping, blogging, going to concerts, travelling, oh yeah and my family. 
3) I have met and had my picture taken with 12 country and pop stars.  If you want your picture taken with me because that kind of makes me a celebrity, please stay after class. 
4) I graduated from this very school in 1996, which may seem like a very long time ago but it really wasn't THAT long ago. 
And then I asked the teacher if I could bring cupcakes because "baking is my love language." 

She responded and said never mind she didn't think I was cut out for the Mystery Reader program because they are trying to encourage the kids to say NO to drugs and it probably wouldn't be appropriate to have someone who is so obviously on drugs read to the class.   
Just kidding.  She loved my clues and gave me the go ahead to bring treats.  Keep in mind that this is a new to us teacher as none our kids have had her before.  In the few times I've interacted with her I've liked her but we didn't really know each other much.  I think that's changed now and I wouldn't be surprised if she calls and wants to do lunch.  Except I'll probably have to pass on lunch because 15 minutes in the teacher's lounge @ 10:45 a.m.?  Ummm, nothing personal but no thanks.  ;)

Once the details were squared away, I began the search for the perfect book to read to the class since the Mystery Reader was to bring their own choice of books.  TALK ABOUT PRESSURE!  I wanted something quirky, something funny, something cutting edge.  Something the kids would associate with me and forever think of me as THE COOLEST MYSTERY READER/MOM EVER.  I ordered this book.  Listen, any book whose complete title is "Frankenstein Makes a Sandwich and Other Stories You're Sure to Like Because They're All About Monsters and Some of Them Are Also About Food.  You Like Food Don't You?  Well, Alright Then," is speaking my language and a winner in my book. 

Then began the painstaking process of deciding which cupcakes to bake for the occasion. MORE PRESSURE!  I'd seen a recipe awhile back for Brain Blood Clot Cupcakes and thought they fit the bill perfectly, to go along with our monsters/food/creepy theme.  And I felt with a degree of certainty that no other Mystery Reader had ever or will ever bring BRAIN BLOOD CLOT CUPCAKES when they read so...SOLD.  My goal was to be the best Mystery Reader ever, the Mystery Reader Mom that made all other MR Moms or Dads past and present pale in comparison. 

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED. 

Sorry other Mystery Reader Moms and Dads, you don't have a prayer going up against this killer combo. 

I wasn't supposed to tell Blade when I was doing it so that he would be just as surprised as everyone else. And I didn't.  I wrote it on the calendar in the kitchen that no one but me ever looks at.  Or at least they have never looked at until Tuesday night before when Dakota loudly asked, "WHAT IS THIS MYSTERY READER THING ON THE CALENDAR FOR ON FRIDAY OCTOBER 7TH?"  Really Dakota, REALLY?  Did the "Mystery" part of that not make you stop and think that maybe it's supposed to be, oh I don't know, a MYSTERY?!?  Of course, Blade heard her and came over to inspect the calendar and then grinned because it was no mystery to him.  No amount of back peddling I did convinced him otherwise, not even when the next day I told him I had switched with another mom so he wouldn't know which day I was coming.  He didn't buy it at all, he's a smart one, that kid.  But he promised to play along and not ruin it for the other kids in his class.  I had my doubts. 
Finally, Friday arrived and I went into work at SUPER EARLY THIRTY, so early Starbucks wasn't even open yet, so that I would be off work in time to head to the school for my very important gig.  The things we do for our kids. 

Timing was crucial because at exactly 2:45 Blade's teacher would read the 4 clues and then open the door to the classroom and I would sashay walk into the classroom amid cheering, applause, and paparazzi.  Blade told me that when she read the clues some kids guessed "Lady Gaga" as their Mystery Reader so when I walked in I heard, "That's NOT Lady Gaga that's Blade's mom!" Darn it, I KNEW I should've worn my meatsuit! 

I sat down in the MR chair at the front of the room and before I could open the book, I was bombarded with 563 questions. "Tell us about your animals", "Have you MET Lady Gaga?" (NO), "My sister says she's been past your farm and you have some PREHISTORIC BIRDS is that true?" (EMUS?), "Do you know who my brother is?  Blade's dad helped him join the Army remember?" (YES).  They had lots of questions about the Koons Zoo and many invited themselves over saying, "I want to come to your house, you have so many animals AND Blade says you make cupcakes!" I told them the story about how I was a city girl but then married Blade's dad who was a farm boy who said he could never live in the city and so I moved to the country and decided all this wide open space needed animals to fill it and thus began the Koons Zoo.  "You were a...CITY GIRL?!?"  Gasp. That took my credibility to a whole other level.  To convert from urban, city girl to a country girl with a farm full of animals?  I am an inspiration.  :)

After an intense Q & A session, the teacher told them it was time for the story with the promise that they could ask me more questions once we were done reading. 
Then I read Frankenstein Makes A Sandwich to them and they laughed at the silliness of the book and the awesome illustrations and my occasional commentary.  They were especially enthralled by the last short story in the book titled, "Godzilla Pooped on My Honda."  Perhaps I should've read the book entirely through before reading it to the class and maybe censored some, but no, that's not how I roll. 

Then it was CUPCAKE TIME. 

I solemnly announced to the class that I had brought treats but I didn't know if all of them would be able to stomach them since they were made of BRAINS and BLOOD CLOTS.  Eyes got wide all around the classroom and they waited with bated breath as Blade proudly distributed the cupcakes.  Then we got to answer the question, "Are these real brains/blood?" approximately 30 times.  Rest assured the answer was no, they were not real, the brains were just frosting and the blood clots were just cherry pie filling.
The consensus of the class?  MOST AWESOME CUPCAKES EVER. 

I would love to be a fly on the wall when they went home to their parents and told them they read a story about Godzilla pooping on their Honda and then ate brain cupcakes with blood in them.  Or when Susie's mom asks her what kind of cake she wants for her birthday and she replies with, "BRAIN CUPCAKES WITH BLOOD CLOTS IN THEM!"

While the kids were eating their brains cupcakes, I had a chance to chat with Blade's teacher.  She gushed, "I love having Blade in my class, he's just such a cool kid.  He seems so old in his mannerisms and how he talks and just everything about him, that I forget he's only a 4th grader.  And he's SO smart.  It's just really enjoyable to have him in my class."  It could've been the cupcakes talking or the fact that she had just gotten a 30 minute reprieve while I read to the kids but either way that was the icing on the cake of my great day. 

Then the sound of 18 kids clamoring around me wanting to play the "Do you know my name?" game brought me back from cloud 9. 

The good news is that I now know by sight the names of every kid in Blade's class.  Also, which of the 18 to avoid if possible because holy cow at the annoying.

The bad news is they're demanding a class field trip to the Koons Zoo and they want to see PREHISTORIC BIRDS and EAT MORE CUPCAKES and can I call LADY GAGA and make sure she's there too?!? 

I asked Blade on our way home from school, "So was I like, the BEST mystery reader EVER?" 
"Umm, well, we've only had one other one so I can't really say. But the cupcakes were good."

Who taught this kid to be so matter of fact and honest?   It was kinda like Godzilla had just pooped on my Honda. 

Pooping on my Honda aside, I had a blast and I still have hopes that I will go down in 4th grade history as the Greatest Mystery Reader of all time.  Hey, if Frankenstein can make a sandwich, I can aim high too. 

 

Let Me Count the Ways...

GI Joe turns 34 today.  He's soooo old, I know.  He's so lucky to be  married to a spring chicken that keeps him young.  I cherish those 7 months a year that he's older than me. In honor, I thought  I would do the most cliche thing on the planet and list 34 fun facts about him.  Actually, I take that back, I'm kinda busy tonight baking birthday cupcakes, making PRE birthday cookie dough truffles for him, and watching Mike and Molly, so I'm only going to list 17 things.  I did some math and it turns out that 17 is half of 34.  Who said I was bad at math?!?

Here we go... 

1.  He loves chocolate chip cookie dough (don't we all?) but it makes him really happy if I dish him out some BEFORE I add the chocolate chips.  He's not a fan of the chocolate chips in cookie dough, says their "waxy". 

2.  He has a severe sweet tooth.  All those cupcakes I bake?  He's my official taste tester and enjoys every second of it.

3.  He has amazing willpower.  Which is how he keeps his boyish figure in spite of the cupcakes.  He limits himself to just one.  Have you ever heard of such a thing?!?  :)

4.  He LOVES LOVES LOVES the Detroit Lions and has since 1985 when Chuck Long of the Iowa Hawkeyes (another one of his first loves) went to the Lions.  That's like 25 years, people!!  He's been with them through many a losing season and you can imagine his elation at their so far undefeated season.  Every year he tells me, "THIS is gonna be their year!" and this year, I actually believe him.

5. He's a homebody.  He'd much rather stay home on the prairie than anything.  I'm exactly that way too, except NOT AT ALL, so we're a good balance.  I drag him out occasionally and he shows me the beauty of staying home sometimes.

6.  His newest and most delicious hobby is smoking stuff.  Not stuff as in illegal stuff but stuff as in delectable meats, cheeses, and even the occasional frozen pizza (seriously, it.'s delish).  I commissioned his brofriend John, to build him a smoker last year for his birthday and I have to say, SMARTEST, BEST, present EVER.  :)

7.  His musical loves are country, real country "not this new crap they keep playing on the radio" (he's talking to you Band Perry).  But it might surprise you to know that he also loves Michael Buble and 50's and 60's music. 

8.  He is freakishly strong.  He can bring a grown man to his knees while shaking his hand just by squeezing.  Probably from all that farm boy work. 

9.  He's a talk radio junkie and says it makes him smarter.  I say it makes him seem REALLY old and a little nerdy.  :)

10.  He reads online newspapers from all over the world, specifically the Middle East, on a daily basis just to stay in the know and so he can enlighten the rest of us, whether we want him to or not. 

11.  He lettered in every sport in high school...football, baseball, track, basketball, and was really good at all of them, especially football (see #8).  Obviously, our mutual athleticism is one of the ties that binds us....or not. 

12.  Winter is his favorite season.  Winter is the bane of my existence.  He loves the snow and gets giddy excited when there's substantial snow in the forecast.  I love him in spite of this character flaw. 

13.  He's been in the military for 15 years and recruiting full time for 9 years.  9 YEARS!  Average tenure of a recruiter is 3-4 years max given the demands, the stress, the hours, etc, so 9 is kind of a big deal.  We should both get some kind of award for this. 

14.  He can quote every word of the movie "Monty Python and the Holy Grail".  It's really unfortunate that space in his brain has been wasted on this. 

15.  He had a higher GPA (3.5) in high school than I did ...barely.  But I'm still better at spelling SO THERE. 

16.  Bacon is his favorite food group. 

17.  He hates having his picture taken, which is unfortunate since I'm kind of a camera Nazi.  But he grins and bears it...usually. 

Happy Birthday GI Joe!  The world became a brighter place 34 years ago today when you came into the world.  I can't even imagine my life without you.  Looking forward to celebrating 100 more birthdays with you.  And yes, I'll bake cupcakes and even puree them for you if you need me to when you're really old. ;)  You're the perfect one for me , love you to infinity and beyond!

Mistaken Identity

After the events that transpired today I have to trade in this shirt..

For this one....



That's right...MEN in uniform, as in plural.

On my lunch today I thought I'd run over to the furniture store and take a look around as GI Joe and I have been discussing new furniture. 

Imagine my surprise and delight when I walked into the couch section of the store and saw the back of my beloved husband in uniform. 

"Ahhh how sweet!  I must've mentioned to him that I was going to run over here on my lunch and he thought he'd surprise me and look with me!  What an awesome husband I have! I love him!"

I sidled up to him, wrapped my arms around him from the side, cuddled my way into my spot by his side, under his arm, and flirtatiously said, "What are YOU doing here?"  while batting my eyelashes heavily.  Let it be known, that I know how to WORK IT GIRL. 

I was pouring it on so thick and batting my eyes so heavily, that it took me a second to look up into my beloved's face. 

A very long second...

In that second, I thought to myself, "He smells weird."  Because my GI Joe?  He only wears cologne when he's NOT wearing his uniform but somehow he still always smells great. It's his top secret bodywash and deoderant or maybe it's just the essence of GI Joe.  He just smells good and clean and masculine.   So good in fact that the other day when he walked into the gas station, the clerk said to him, "Mmmmmm...you smell WONDERFUL."   A little forward, yes but I couldn't be mad because she speaks the truth.  So the fact that he didn't emanate his normal "Swagger" smell?  Should've been a clue. 

Because then I looked up into his face, the face I promised to love, honor, cherish til death do us part.

EXCEPT IT WASN'T MY HUSBAND!!!

Then everything went into slow motion and I put my hands to my face as it turned 14 shades of red and said, " OOOOOOOH YOU'RE NOT MY HUSBAND!!!" 

To which the nice man in the matching uniform to my husband's said nicely, although a bit taken aback, "No, I'm not."  Then he smiled. 

And with that I ran out of the store never to return, while he went home to his wife and told his wife, "Hey honey, found a new couch and a wife I didn't know I had today." 

In my defense, he was the same height, build, hair (or fuzz colored since there really isn't much hair), same red neck (and I mean the actual color of his neck not his upbringing or way of life but let's be honest GI Joe is a redneck in more ways than one) and was standing just like GI Joe does.  Upon further reflection, I now realize that most people in uniform stand that way because it's kinda part of their military training, so sue me.  Also, and please don't think I'm a racist, but they all kinda look alike when in uniform, especially when they have their hats on. 

Exhibit A

If you turned these boys around you'd never be able to tell the difference.  Please note neither of these is my husband. 

To insure that I don't make this mistake again, let's play a little game. 

Pictured left to right:  Not my husband, not my husband, not my husband, not my husband, REALLY not my husband, and not my husband. 

But this?  THIS is my husband.

I win!  Isn't he so cute? 

This is my husband who I just begged and pleaded with to get him to go put his uniform BACK on 20 minutes after he just got out of it just so I could take this picture for the blog.  And he complied.  Even AFTER I hugged another man in uniform today.  That's just the kind of awesome guy he is. 

So the next time you see a man in uniform, any man, doesn't matter who, doesn't even matter what kind of uniform.  Could be a soldier, a firefighter, a policeman, the pest control guy, whomever, walk up to him, wrap your arms around him in an inappropriate and awkward manner, and then thank him for his service.  Or run away shrieking, "YOU'RE NOT MY HUSBAND!!", whichever you prefer. 

Do it for me, do it for your country. 

The Chicken Whisperer

As I was reading thru blog posts that I had started but never finished, I realized I never told you about our grand ol' time at the county fair and our subsequent initiation into the world of 4Her's.  It would be an utter disservice to you if I didn't post it because you just never know when the things you see here will come in handy in your own day to day lives.  I've said it before and I'll say it again, I'm here to inform and educate ya'll. 

Starting with How to Give Your Chicken a Bath 101

Step 1:  Get up really early the morning of the chicken show.  Look half asleep, don't bother getting fully dressed because you live in the country after all, no one is around to see your fashion faux pas.  Oh wait, Dakota is fully dressed it was the photographer who may or may not have still been in her PJ's.  Fill 3 buckets with warm water.  The first bucket is just plain water, the second is a bucket of warm water mixed with Pantene Pro-V with Extra Shine Booster, and the 3rd is water and vinegar for even more added shine, according to the 4Her's Guide to Showing Poultry.   

Step 2:  Dunk your chicken in each bucket, starting with the water rinse, followed by the shampoo, finished up with the pickled chicken dip.   

Step 2:  Let the chicken spend a little time in each bucket to kick back and relax to prepare for her big day of being on display at the fair.  It ain't easy being pretty. 

Give a lady her privacy as she lounges in the tub. 

"Hey can I get a People magazine and a Diet Coke up in here? CALGON take me away!"

Settle down Reba, Diet Coke coming right up.

Step 3:  Be sure to name your red chickens Reba, Wynonna, and Lucy.  And then address them by their names any time you speak to them which should be frequently because chickens have feelings too! 

Step 4:  File a restraining order against the peeping tom rooster who keeps strutting around trying to get a peek.  Pervert. 

The restraining order will prove useless but chasing him off while imitating him and cock-a-doodle-dooing loudly turns out to be quite effective (and hilarious.)

Step 4:  Lather the ol' girls up with the Pantene Pro-V so they can look like they just stepped out of a salon and the other hens at the poultry show will be jealous of their gorgeous, shiny, flowing locks feathers.

"To the left a little, now up, ahhhhh right there, that's the spot." 

Step 5:  Towel dry with a fluffy towel.  Or if you're in a hurry you can blow dry them but we were trying to keep the traumization to a minimum for the day. 

Step 6:  Once everyone's had the full spa treatment, load Lucy, Wynonna, and Reba up in their transport cage and give them strict instructions not to poop on each other.  Try to ignore the pickle smell that emanates from them.  Focus more on their shining, clean beauty and the fact that they didn't seem to mind bathing in the least.  Never mind that everything you'd read about chicken bathing (and yes, you read quite a bit about it) said they wouldn't like it and might be spastic.  Of course, the only chickens in the world who enjoy pampering and warm baths live at the Koons Zoo, where else would they live?

Step 7:  Arrive at the fair and positively BEAM because you're so proud of your chickens and so excited and nervous for your first poultry show.  I mean, look at the gloss on those girls, it's blinding!  Also, you may feel like throwing up from nerves or so we've heard. 

Step 8:  Impress the poultry judge with your vast chicken knowledge, your beautiful chickens, how you handle them correctly, and how bonded you are with your chickens.  Apparently, not everyone at the poultry shows names and holds their chickens daily.  Weirdos. 

Step 9: When the judge is done with you and you put your chickens away, turn around to your mom and dad and make the funniest face ever and loudly breathe a sigh of relief.  And yay for you, you didn't puke!!!

Step 10:  Bring home the BLUE RIBBON because you and your chickens know how to work it, girl! 
Step 11:  And while you're at it bring home a second blue ribbon for your awesome, non chicken related artwork.

Step 12:  Once your work at the chicken show is done, go watch a show featuring pigs who do tricks and listen to your mom exclaim loudly the whole time..."GI JOE, WE CAN'T BUTCHER HORMEL LET'S TEACH HER TRICKS INSTEAD!!!"

Step 13:  Roll your eyes and sigh loudly.  Because your mom?  She'll never be half the country girl you are.  Silly mommy, pigs are for bacon not for tricks. 

Step 14:  Consider your first venture to the county fair as a 4H'er a smashing success and begin planning immediately for next year's showing which will likely expand beyond chickens and include calves, pigs, and/or goats.  Roll your eyes again as your mom tells you that you'll have to get much bigger buckets to give a goat or a pig a bath. 

Step 15:  Head home after signing autographs, fending off crazed fans, and making media appearances (aka posing for pictures for your mother), tell your chickens they made you proud and then tuck them into bed in the barnyard.  Fall asleep with a huge smile on your face and your blue ribbons proudly displayed on your wall.   

Caped Crusaders

A few months ago, while on my annual girls weekend with my sisters, smom, and daughter we visited 6 Flags St Louis, because we're adrenaline junkies and because nothing screams girls weekend like actually screaming like girls while riding various scary roller coasters.  I realize now that I never blogged about that delightful weekend, one of the many regrets of my blogging life.  I think I'll just show you this picture which basically sums up our girls weekend and also tells you what kind of people we are. 

Superheroes, that's what kind. 

While we were at Six Flags we happened upon these capes and decided they would make great souvenirs for the boys we left behind at home.  Boys meaning Micah, age 4, Blade, age 9, Ryder age (then) 7, and GI Joe age 33.  Oh yes, yes I did buy GI Joe a Green Lantern cape and at this very moment it's hanging off one of the bedposts in our room.  TMI?  Probably but it's true.  My guy loves him some Marvel comic superheroes.    The capes were really cheap, as in $5, FIVE DOLLARS, so my sister Brandy and Dakota also decided they needed one.  I mean really, every girl should have a little black Batgirl cape in her closet, right?  Right.  Six capes later and a photo op was born.  We were all about the photo ops, see?

Oh and we had matching shirts, because we're just that awesome.  It's ok to be jealous.

After our fabulous weekend filled with estrogen, cupcakes, ice cream, chocolate, Uno, roller coasters, and laughs we headed home.  I was so excited to give my boys their souvenirs because let's be honest, boys+superhero capes are like chocolate+peanut butter, they just belong together.  Even though I had to tear them from the clenched, reluctant hands of my sisters after we posed for our superhero picture.  Note to self:  Christmas gift idea. 

As expected the boys, all 3 of them, were thrilled by their souvenirs.   As was NOT expected, they immediately put them on and went outside to play....football.  Not to play superheroes or an imaginary game of Batman vs. the Joker but...football, obviously.

They were certain that the capes made them run faster, throw further, and tackle harder. Who was I to argue? 

Not pictured, GI Joe in his Green Lantern cape because well, I told you where it resides and this is NOT that kind of blog.  :)

The capes have come in handy for more than just football.  On Ryder's birthday we went to a local arcade/pizza place that gives you an extra $10 on your game card if you wear a superhero costume.  And just like that I got a 200% return on my initial cape investment.  Ka-POW!

                                           

Never one to miss out on a bargain, I borrowed GI Joe's cape since he thought wearing it over his uniform would look ridiculous.  Because a 33 year old mother of 3, wearing it over her shorts and tshirt did NOT look ridiculous.  When we got up to the cashier and placed our order for 5 pizza buffets and 5 game cards, I proudly said to her, "And LOOK, four of us are wearing our superhero costumes so don't forget our extra $10!!!"  Yes, I am THAT mom.  And yes, I was the ONLY mom wearing a superhero costume...weird.  Anything for a buck, or ten as the case may be. 

Have a SUPER Thursday!  Truth, justice, and the hillbilly way. 

Weekend Update

What a weekend.  I love 3 day weekends.  I especially love 3 day weekends when the weather is perfect (mostly), my laundry gets done,  my house stays clean for more than 2 hours at a time, and I get to bake cupcakes. 

And what better way to start out a 3 day weekend than by spending Friday doing Habitat for Humanity.  You guys, I mastered the chop saw!  I was the CUTTER.  And it felt good, real GOOD.  I may or may not be addicted to power tools, I'm just sayin'. 

And I helped build a wall.  Isn't that the most beautiful wall you've ever laid eyes on?  I know. 

You need some help with a home remodeling project?  You need a wall built?  You call me.  The girls and I will fix you right up.  Look for us on the cover of Construction Illustrated:  Girls in Hardhats Edition coming soon to a newstand near you.

Saturday, GI Joe, Blade, my Dad, and GI Joe's Dad headed to Iowa City for the first Hawkeye game of the season aka my first Saturday of being a football widow.  I love going to the games too (not because I know anything that's going on but I love the hot dogs, the atmosphere, and the people watching, oh and the Hawkeyes) but I willingly sat this one out so they could have some male bonding time and because Dakota, Ryder and I had big plans...to go see dead bodies. 

Seriously...dead bodies.  This exhibit has been at our science center for awhile now and I've been dying to see it.  Ahahahaha, I slay myself.  Teeheeheee, ok I'll stop now.  GI Joe had no desire to go see it with me but the kids all thought it sounded cool so we decided to go while they were at the game.  I thought it was fascinating with a side of weird.  The weird coming from the people on display were at one time, real LIVE people, that had donated their bodies to science to be plasticated for this exhibit.  But it was fascinating to see the inner workings of our bodies and how they're made.  Dakota was thoroughly creeped out by the whole thing but Ryder loved it. In fact, he loved it so much he bought a postcard of a plasticated body to show his class on Tuesday.  Should I be concerned?  Nah.  I was more concerned that the bodies on display were anatomically correct and a large majority of them were male.  I don't know how to say this delicately so I'm just going to say it.  Certain things don't plasticate well. Luckily, the kids didn't pay any attention to such things but I couldn't help noticing how certain parts looked like 2 little (emphasis on the little) Christmas ornaments hanging there on either side of the ahem..... ummm....candy cane?  Picture taking was not allowed or you can be sure that you would be looking at a picture of it right now.  But instead, here's a very scientific diagram I drew for you. 

We wish you a Merry Christmas....

I cannot figure out for the life of me why they didn't sell "Bodies" commemorative Christmas ornaments in the gift shop, that would've been marketing genius.  When we got back in the car after seeing the display I couldn't help but put in some Christmas music and drive immediately to the craft store to buy some shiny new Christmas balls.  Sorry, I'll stop now.  :)  Yes, I'm very mature why do you ask? 

Saturday night we watched the move "127 Hours".  Have you heard of this movie?  It's the true story of a mountain climber who goes climbing by himself (duh) and he falls in a canyon and a boulder lands on his arm.  He has very little water and other supplies but somehow manages to survive for, you guessed it, 127 hours stuck in this canyon.  At some point during that 127 hours he realizes that his only chance of survival and escape is to cut his arm off.  Spoiler alert:  HE CUTS HIS OWN ARM OFF USING A DULL POCKET KNIFE.  And now I've just saved you from having to watch what seems like an actual 127 hours to watch it for yourself.  There were many times throughout the movie where I said to GI Joe, can't they speed this up a little bit and just get to the part where he cuts his arm off and manages to claw his way out?  I'm sure that's what the guy stuck in that canyon thought too, "Hey can we just hurry this along?  Being stuck down here, having to drink my own PEE (oops, sorry another spoiler alert, you're welcome, I wish I'd been warned because EWWWWW), and eventually having to cut my arm off is just really taking way too long."  So yeah, do yourself a favor. go ahead and delete that movie out of your Netflix queue.  That's 127 hours minutes of your life you won't be able to get back.  And that's what he said.  (I'm sorry, only 17 days til The Office is back!)

While getting in the Christmas spirit, watching a guy cut his own arm off, were fun and all, the highlight of my weekend was Sunday night.  After church, we had a little get together with friends and family from church.  You know the usual, pizza, dips, cupcakes, games, and GUNS.  One of our friends Blake, just got home from a deployment in Afghanistan and being young and single, bought himself some new, super cool guns.  And he said, I COULD SHOOT THEM!!! 

Confession #1: Hi, my name is Prairie Princess and I love guns. 

Confession #2:  I am a terrible shot and scream every time I fire a gun.  But I LOVE the power that comes from holding and handling a gun. 

A group of about 15 of us walked down behind the barn where there are a bunch of trees to hang the targets in, made sure there were no horses, llamas, or mules donkeys hanging around, and got down to business.  Many took a turn firing after a quick gun safety lesson from Blake or GI Joe.  Also, I made sure to tell everyone that shot that they were required to yell, "FIRE IN THE HOLE" before they fired.  As if that stopped me from jumping every time the gun went off.  We were having a good old time until my father in law got everyone's attention and said, "You guys, this is a true story. One time my cousin got a new 22 and was firing it and everyone was standing around watching and my other cousin Dixie walked out right in front of the gun as he was firing and shot her clean through the head."  Tragic, I know.  But you have to know my father in law, no one ever knows if he's serious or not so we thought he was kidding so we kinda laughed awkwardly and thought he was crazy for randomly telling that buzzkill of a story right in the middle of our laughter and yelling "Fire in the Hole".  As it turned out he was completely serious and it was a true story.  So random and tragic obviously but sometimes those are just the things that make me giggle inappropriately and uncontrollably and that's exactly what happened.  And then instead of "Fire in the Hole!" I yelled "Remember Dixie!" when the gun was fired.  And then those around me started giggling and couldn't stop and at one point I remember someone saying when they were able to catch their breath from laughing so hard, "I don't think we should be laughing about it" but then they couldn't stop laughing either and that just made me laugh harder.  Yep, I'm the devil.  RIP Dixie and my apologies.  And to my father in law, you sure know how to liven up a party.  :)

Anyway, once we got over the shock of Dixie, it was my turn to fire. 

Hello, lover. 

This my friends, is an AR-15.  Not that I'm a gun expert or anything, I just asked GI Joe.  All I know is that it's a big gun, has a long range, and makes a really loud bang.  It's basically the same as the M16's that recruits get in boot camp and are required to name it because they want the recruits to personalize their gun.  Not personalize as in put pretty, sparkly stickers on it (although I would totally do that) but personalize as in, bond with it, become one with it, take care of it like they would take care of their own body, learn all about it, personalize.  Fun fact, when GI Joe was in boot camp, he named his M16 after me.  And when he told me that in a letter, I thought it was the most romantic, sweetest, and cheesiest thing ever.   Awww, young love.  Anyway, this is one big, bad gun.  But don't worry, I'm an expert. 

Pink shooting attire...check.

Goofy grin because I'm holding a very big, powerful, gun....check.

Shooting earmuffs so the bang isn't quite so loud....check.

Safety on while we took this picture, just in case.....check. 

But now, NOW I was ready for business.

The butt of the gun secure against my shoulder so I don't get a giant bruise when it kicks back...check.

Front knee bent in proper shooter's stance....check.

Matching shoes to my pink sweatshirt...check. 

"FIRE IN THE HOLE!".....check.

REALLY LOUD BANG FOLLOWED BY A REALLY LOUD SCREAM (mine, not to worry, there were no Dixie incidents)....check and check. 

It was such a rush.  All I was aiming at was a tiny 8" x 8" square target hung in the tree and it's not like I even came close to hitting it but, just firing that bad boy...WOO.  IT doesn't really matter if I hit the target or not because it's not like I could ever shoot at any THING (ex:  deer, rabbit, stranger breaking into my house, ok maybe on that one...) but just firing it is enough for me. 

I like big guns and I cannot lie.  Them other mothers can't deny.  I'm hooked and I can't stop shooting. 

You might be a redneck girl if you find firing big guns absolutely exhilarating and revamp rap hits from the early 90's to tell about it. 

But then Blake also had this adorable, little gun.  Yes, I'm pretty sure I heard he and GI Joe describe it exactly that way when they were talking about it "Hey GI Joe, wanna see this adorable little handgun I got?  It's really cute.  I think the chicks are really gonna dig it." 

"Oh yeah, that is just PRECIOUS.  Oh and it' so lightweight too.  So pretty."

OK, maybe not exactly like that. 

But it really is adorable, and precious, and soo cute.  I just wish it came in pink. 

Looks can be deceiving because this little girl (the gun, not me) is still one lean, mean shooting machine.  Believe it or not, she had a really loud bang too.  I felt like one of Charlie's Angels with this one.  When we reviewed the target after I fired this gun, there was a bullethole right through the middle of the target.  Not to brag, but I'm pretty sure it was my shot that did it, even though GI Joe will tell you that he'd hit it long before I shot.  Whatever, don't listen to him, he names his guns after GIRLS, clearly he can't be trusted. 

So that was my weekend...power tools, guns, dead bodies, and bad movies, in other words, perfection. How was yours?!?