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It was about this time, fourteen years ago, that we bought our house.

My mother and I had been out driving, drove by this house with a For Sale sign on it - I called my realtor and asked him to meet us quickly at the house to show it to me. By 6:00 p.m. that evening we had made an offer on the house, contingent on the sale of our other house. One month later, we were moving in.

That afternoon, when my realtor rushed over to show me the house, I entered the property and didn't even have to go inside the house - I knew I wanted to buy it. It had a huge 1 acre yard that was entirely fenced in and I knew this would be the perfect home for our family. My twins were 2 years old at the time.

So ... we bought it and moved in and have lived here ever since.

I have since realized that this is not the house of my dreams, but it has become the house my children have grown up in and it is our home. I think we will live in this house for the rest of our lives.

There are many special things about our house - but, not necessarily special to the naked eye. One of those things is ...

the cowboy ghost ...

that lives in the upstairs hallway leading to our bedrooms.

YES - a ghost!

I had seen the ghost many times, after we first moved in. I would be sitting in our little den area down by our kitchen and every so often - about 2 times a month - I would catch a glimpse of the ghost in the upstairs hallway.

I was always surprised and startled.

I was always confused.

I woud ALWAYS get up and go inspect the hallway and the bathroom - trying desperately to explain what I had seen.

The ghost would move from right to left. From my daughters' bedroom, across the hallway and then into the bathroom - a tall, dark shadow. That's the only time I ever saw him and that's all he ever did - move across the hallway from right to left. I never saw him go back again and I never saw him anywhere else in the house.

I was, however, the only one that ever saw the ghost and I never mentioned that I had seen him to anyone - not even my husband. That is, not until ...

One evening, my mother made the comment, "Did you know that there's a ghost in your upstairs hallway?"

I, of course, perked up to this statement. I did not offer my experiences - I requested that she tell me what she had seen.

She said, "He's tall and he wears black. He wears a hat and a trench coat and boots. He moves across the hallway, from the girls' room over to the bathroom."

She thought she was telling me something I didn't know. I said, "I know - I've seen him too," and went on to explain that she had perfectly described the ghost I had seen many times before.

My mother and I sat there and could not believe that we had, in fact, confirmed our sightings - without even realizing or trying. It was spectacular.

I have gone on to tell people about the ghost, but don't encourage the talk around my smaller children, as when they pick up on the idea, it sort of scares them.

About 8 years after we bought the house, we added on a new master bedroom. We also tore down some walls in our kitchen and den area and renovated our kitchen/dining room/living room area. Since that renovation, and redesigning our den, we no longer have the seating arranged in such a way that you can sit at the bottom of the stairs and look up. Because of this, I have not sighted the ghost in a long time - at least not in the hallway.

When we added the master bedroom and then moved in - I began to sense that the ghost was in our room.

There have been many nights when I will sense that there is someone sitting (I can feel the movement) at the foot of my bed. When this happens, I will bolt up in my bed, expecting to see a cat or one of my children.

There never is.

I am not afraid of our ghost, as he has never done anything other than wander. I believe he is a lost cowboy.

The neighborhood I live in is an area where Indians lived. The name of our neighborhood is named after these Indians. There are caves near our house that have been said to have drawings - left behind by those Indians.

Like I said, I am not afraid. He's a lost cowboy and I am perfectly content letting him live in the upstairs hallway of our house. I'm even okay with him sitting at the foot of my bed watching me sleep.

But ... if he decides to move again - if he gets it in his head to crawl in bed next to me ... he needs to leave his trench coat thrown across the chair and his boots on the floor.

I guess he can leave the hat on.

I'm a sucker for cowboy hats.

(I wrote this post for Suz, over at Busy Bee - she wanted to hear the story.)

About fifteen years ago, my husband and I sat in the living room of our first home with a realtor. We discussed in depth what sort of new home we were looking to buy, once we sold our house. I pulled out a small real estate book - complete with house photos and descriptions. I flipped through the pages and noticed this one particular home that I really liked. I took my little book and walked over to the realtor and said, "This house. This is what I want."

The realtor looked down at the brochure. And then, he looked down his nose at me, curled his lip and said, "Wouldn't we all."

The photo in that brochure was of a house behind a large brick wall with security gates on the front. I liked the look of the house because of the wall, as I had two small children, a dog and a husband with redneck tendencies (loves working on old cars). While this was a relatively old house, this seemed like exactly the kind of house we were looking for.

We promptly dismissed that realtor and coincidentally went on to buy that house and have lived in that house - the one that realtor presumed we could not afford - the one that realtor assumed was beyond our means - for the past fifteen years.

Never judge a book by its cover or a house by its security gate.

This was not a fancy house. This was not a house beyond our means. But, at the time, the realtor looked at the picture of this house with the large brick wall and security gate and promptly decided that we were too young for such a house - too poor.

This past week I went to north Texas visiting colleges with my twin daughters. These are the same twins that prefer to wear t-shirts to blouses, athletic shorts to skirts and Converse sneakers to ballet flats.

We toured a fine university in the morning and I requested a conference with one of the counselors right after our tour was done. Courtney, Chloe and I went in and made ourselves comfortable in his office. We went through our list of questions about the university and how it might offer academic programs my girls are interested in.

It was pretty clear, early on, that the counselor had his own ideas about my girls - about me. Mind you - he never asked about their qualifications, their test scores, their class ranking or anything else about their resumes. He simply offered answers in a tone - while well desquised behind a well rehearsed smile - that was condescending.

At one point, I inquired about academic scholarships - like some of the other universities offer to high achieving prospective freshman. He quickly responded by throwing out high SAT/ACT scores, high class rankings, blah, blah, blah, that a prospective student would have to meet before even being considered for "such" scholarships. And then, he sort of dismissed the whole academic scholarship discussion.

I kept my eyes on his smug face and my mouth shut. When we left, I never told my girls, but to myself I thought - I guess UT or Texas State or any of the other ten universities we are considering, might just be thrilled to take my - basketball shorts, t-shirt, Converse wearing twins ... and offer them substantial academic scholarships ... when they find out that these two girls are in the top 6% of their class of 600+ and their ACT and SAT scores rank them in the top 98% in the nation.

Never judge a teenager by the clothes they wear! And, seriously, never do it in front of the mother paying for the college tuition because ... she might just scratch your university off the list based on your arrogant attitude alone.

We know when others look down their noses at us and ... they know when they are doing it. We didn't buy that house fifteen years ago just to spite that realtor, it was merely a coincidence. But I kept that real estate brochure. It was my way of reminding myself of what it felt like to be looked down upon and also how it felt to prove somebody wrong.

(The house is the one circled on the lower left)

I don't know yet where my girls will be going to college, but what I do know is this ... they will probably still be wearing Converse sneakers and basketball shorts. Maybe even a tattoo or piercing in their nose or eyebrow. And ... they will likely graduate in the top of the class because that is who they are. They are not the clothes they wear, but they have their own styles, are paving their own paths in this world and are very confident and comfortable with who they are.

I have been tagged again for the 7 Random Things Meme by Forgetfulone and also by Mary @ Happenings Today - thanks ladies for thinking of me.

So, I am going to list 14 things and here it goes:

1. I am a lot funnier in my head - than I am in real life. I can be funny - when I am around the right people (like a few of my closest friends and my family), but I am not one of those people that humor comes to quickly or easily - except inside my head. In my head ... I am HYSTERICAL! This is also true about how I perceive myself - I am way better looking in my head - than I am in real life! Also ... a lot smaller.

2. We have a ghost in our house. Our house is about 40 years old and the ghost lives in the hallway that leads to our bedrooms. When I (and my mother) have seen this ghost, he is always crossing the hallway (from my twins' bedroom) and goes into the bathroom. He wears a black trench-like coat, black boots and black hat (like in cowboy movies). The neighborhood we live in is well known for a particular Indian Tribe living here. I believe this ghost is from that time. My mother and I are the only ones to have ever seen him, but I have seen him at least 25 times over the past 13 years. It has been a while since I have seen him and I have recently began to believe that he has moved from the hallway to my bedroom and sits at the foot of my bed (as I feel the bed move, like someone is sitting - jump up even to see who is there - like one of my kids or a cat - and there is never anyone there. I usually have to then, pull the covers over my head so the ghost won't come near me). I've never been afraid of this ghost - and I am not one to really believe in this sort of thing - but he does live in my house.

3. On a scale of 1 - 10, if you were to ask me how happy I am in my life ... I'd have to say that I am at a 10. And, this is not something that I have just suddenly come to realize - I think I have been at a 10 for a lot of my life. I seldom feel as though my life could be any better. I don't believe that is true of very many people and I feel fortunate to be able to say that. I thank God often for blessing me and for giving me my wonderful life.

4. I totally believe in God. I believe he is standing next to me and guiding me - all the time. I truly believe he is completely aware of how much I love him.

5. Something I hate ... let me list something I hate. I hate "high-maintenance" friends. I want my friends to be simple. I want to be able to call you and say, "What are you doing?" and I want you to tell me, "I'm mopping the kitchen floor." I want you to know that I care about that - I want you to know that you can tell me that, even though it may seem insignificant - I want for that to be how simple our relationship is - that we talk about stupid crap and can turn that stupid crap into an hour long, ridiculously funny, memorable conversation. I want my friends to be completely and emotionally capable of dealing with me and me with them - on the simplest and purest level - no pretenses. I am too old and too tired to have to figure you out - I don't have the patience for that anymore.

6. I do not like spaghetti, pancakes, watermelon, sloppy Joe's, peanuts, cinnamon rolls or pretzels. I can eat all these things, but I don't like them.

7. I am nocturnal. I've always been a night-owl and love the night. I also love a dark room and seldom turn on many lights in the room I am in. I also turn off lights in every room that I think is too bright. My family is just the opposite and are always turning on every light in the room and I go behind them and turn most of them off. My mother complains constantly that I should open the blinds or turn on a light. I like the way a dark room, a cloudy day or the night makes me feel - cozy and closed in. I do, however, also ... worship the sun and love summer and stay outdoors a lot when it is hot.

8. I'd rather give a gift, than receive a gift. I love buying gifts and am always looking for a reason or occasion to do so. I think I drive my friends crazy because I buy gifts often for, what seems like, crazy reasons. I love buying gifts.

9. I keep a lot of lists. I am a list maker. I get this from my Dad - he was and is a list maker. I have lists to keep up with my lists.

10. I am drawn to clocks. I am also drawn to lamps, vacuum cleaners, socks, rugs and throw pillows. I have to talk myself out of buying these items every time I go into any store.

11. I often look at my husband and think, "He is so handsome - how did I get such a handsome man?"

12. We have 9 TVs in our house and one in my van. There is always a TV on, somewhere in our house - sometimes many are on. I keep a TV on at all times when I am home alone - for the noise. I turn the TV on as soon as I wake up. I don't watch TV, hardly ever, during the day ... but it is always on. It is on right now in my bedroom and I have no idea what channel it is on or what show is on.

13. If I had to admit to one regret I have in my life, it would be that I did not do more with my life. While I am completely content and happy with how my life has turned out and totally happy with everything that it is ... I believe that I honestly have not reached or lived up to my true potential. I wish I had had more drive, direction, ambition and detailed goals, when I was younger that might have led me to pursue a path of something that I loved (like animals or art or writing).

14. I do not like to walk or run - anywhere. I don't know why ... but I don't want to do either. I don't have any desire to hike or enter marathons or walk from the farthest parking spot in any lot. I am not a lazy person and I don't think there is anyone in my life that would say that I am - but I don't want to walk or run - ANYWHERE!

Thanks again to Forgetfulone and Mary @ Happenings Today for tagging me for this meme. I know I am supposed to tag seven more people, but I am going to leave this tag open and if you'd like to take it and do it - consider yourself tagged.

Can you say M.I.C.E.?

Can you say S.N.A.K.E.S?

Can you say ... CITY GIRLS HAVE NO BUSINESS IN THE COUNTRY ON ANY RANCH WITH HER FOUR KIDS AND NOT THE RIGHT CLOTHES OR SHOES TO BE RUNNING AROUND WITH THE COWS AND THEIR POOP AND ARMADILLOS AND SNAKES AND GUTTING DEAD DEER HANGING FROM BEAMS IN THE BARN AND ALLIGATORS IN THE NEAR-BY POND AND MICE!!??

Okay ... take a breath.

That's what we did this past weekend. We ... went hunting. Well, I didn't actually do any hunting and neither did any of us girls ... but that was the point of this trip to our friends' ranch. For the boys to go hunting.

The first time we were invited to the ranch, my girlfriend said, "Now, Kellan ... you know that it is a ranch, right? You probably should not wear flip-flops or heels to the ranch. You know this ... right?"

I didn't grow up on a farm ... but I'd been around my grandfather's farm many times in my life. I knew that you didn't wear heels! I debated about just wearing a pair - with a sparkly top and foo-foo hair, just to mess with her. I didn't.

And I didn't this time either. But ... I did not pack the right stuff. Tennies are not really appropriate for the rough terrain or the cow patties and ... I really should have packed a hair net.

There are MICE at the ranch!

There were MICE the last few times we went as well. Along with bats in the attic and critters roaming the yard. But ... I never actually saw a MOUSE until this hunting trip! It's better when you don't actually see the MOUSE!

And ... these MICE are in the house. They live there. It's a log cabin and they have moved right in - because humans don't actually live in the house - they just visit. The MICE own this house. I saw MICE. I saw many MICE. It is a MOUSE-HOUSE.

I really don't like mice - particularly. I especially don't like them in my house (we've had one or two in our house)! I wasn't so disturbed that the mice were in the house(because it's not my house) and that I occasionally would see one dart across the floor and then vanish into a crack (there are lots of cracks in a log cabin house). This ... I became used to - really. You just have to put it out of your mind - hope one doesn't come running straight at you - hope you don't see them carrying off anything important. You just have to deal with it - it's a ranch house. You are at the ranch.

It was the NIGHT-TIME MICE that wore on me. If I would see a MOUSE (and I did) ... just before going to bed, say ... in my room (and I did) ... I could not get the MOUSE out of my head.

This was exhausting ... the last night we were there. I managed through the first night fine - not thinking much about the MICE and just fell asleep. The second night, however ... I definitely decided that I have WAY TOO BIG hair to sleep anywhere where there are mice liable to run across my face, trip and become entangled in my BIG OL' hair-sprayed hair! After this vision hit me - I COULD NOT SLEEP! Even ducking my BIG OL' HEAD under the covers - it was no help! It was physically and mentally exhausting! And HOT!

I needed a hair net. A cafeteria-lunch-lady-hair-net! Or a swim cap. Because ... I realized, that it was my head that I did not want the MICE to come near. Not that I wanted them crawling under the covers with me (Nope!) - but it was really my head that I kept trying to protect.

It was useless!

My husband ... lying next to me in the MOUSE-HOUSE-bed ... slept just fine. He apparently had no hidden MOUSE fears and neither did any of my kids. All asleep.

When daylight came ... I woke up. Somewhere in the restless night, I fell asleep. I don't know if MICE were on me when I slept - I have to imagine that they were ... saying stuff, while sitting on my chest, "Stay away from that one's hair ... get caught in that and you'll never get out."

On the upside ... Aside from the NIGHT-MICE ... we had a blast! We spent a wonderful weekend with our best friends. We saw a rattle snake up close, armadillo, alligators, raccoon, cottontails, cows (and baby cows too), deer and 7 of the most adorable baby owls nesting in the barn. My husband and son shot a buck (antlers will be mounted for my son), my friend and I rode motorcycles and talked a lot, the kids wandered around, took walks, took pictures, watched movies ... and we ate - lots! We had fun and the next time I go I will just have to remember to take something to cover my head. At one point, I asked my husband to go get me a straw so I could breath fresh air from under the covers - he just laughed and fell asleep (I wasn't kidding).

It's winter.

I live in Texas.

I want there to be snow - but there is never snow where I live.

Usually, we try to get away around Christmas or Spring Break to go skiing - then I get to see the snow and it makes me very happy.

This year we didn't go on our regular ski trip at Christmas time and I think we are going to the beach during Spring Break (blah!).

This weekend - this is where I am:

Yes - during even the winter months - we go to the lake.

Now, it is chilly here this weekend (54 or so), but it is still beautiful.

We have a house on this lake - a townhouse. We spend a lot of time in the summer up here and some weekends during the winter. It's nice to come here to just relax and get away from home.

We don't do much when we come here in the winter.

We eat out a lot.
We go to movies.
We go to Walmart.
We rent movies.
We watch TV.
We sometimes play games.
We take walks.
We ride around in our golf cart.
We visit with friends.
We fish.
We feed the ducks.
We take naps.

We do all these same things in the summer - only add in:

Lots of swimming.
Lots of boating.
Water skiing.
Wake boarding.
Jet Skiing.
Picnics.
Eating outdoors.
Long evenings out on the decks.

On Friday I asked my kids, "Do you want to go to the lake?" and they all screamed, "Yes, Yes, Yes!"

So, we came.

This is what the kids are mostly doing:

Playing Guitar Hero. They think they are on vacation and they aren't much help, when help is needed. That's okay, this weekend - they too, deserve a break.

Here is a little tour of our place:

This is our bedroom. Notice my laptop on the bed - never go anywhere without my laptop.

This is the "bunk room" where the older girls sleep and hang out with their friends. They made a complete mess of it before I had a chance to take a good picture.

This blurry picture is of my mom's room. We call it her room because she is often here with us all summer long - she's here almost as much as we are. This also serves as our guest bedroom.

This is Little Billy's bedroom. We made this little room for him in the attic space above the garage. It's a very comfortable and cute little room. He has his toys and TV - it couldn't be more perfect for a little boy.

This is Alexis' room. We made her a little room in a closet - yes, a closet. Since the master bedroom has this really large closet with built in cabinets and all, we decided when she was just a baby to stick her crib in there - give her her own little space. As she has grown, we changed out the crib for a toddler bed and decorated it with her toys and pictures. She is due for a bigger bed and we plan to give her a new one this summer - if it will fit in the closet. Don't tell her it is a closet - she doesn't know - she just calls it "her little room". It is precious and just right for her.

Our house has officially 3 bedrooms and 4 baths. But ... people tease me all the time that if any space is large enough, I'll find a way to make a bedroom out of it and stick a bed in there for some kid to sleep on - and it is true. There is not on foot of unused space in the house - not one inch. Since it is a lake house and we didn't need the closet space (we only ever wear swimsuits and shorts) - the closet was perfect for her and - she has her own bathroom to boot.

This is not her bathroom, this is my mothers.

This is my bathroom.

This is our little kitchen (note all the slushie cups along the wall - we make lots of slushies and smoothies at the lake).

This is our dining room.

This is the living room - before the kids took it over for Guitar Hero.

This is the upper deck. We spend lots of time up here in the summer - sunbathing and looking at stars.

This is the lower deck. We spend lots of evenings out here - fishing and visiting with friends. This is also where the kids swim and the boat (to the right - can't see it) is right here for us to go out whenever we wish. The Jet Ski is kept here also.

This is a view of the lower deck from the other direction.

God has been so good to me and my family. We are lucky to have this beautiful retreat and I just wanted to share it with you.

Wouldn't it be fun to have a ladies weekend here - sit around, the bunch of us - talk about our kids (because they wouldn't be with us - BTW) - share our stories - drink a few Margaritas or iced tea - listen to some music. I wish we could do that!

We love this place.

Thanks for letting me share it with you.

Now .... I'm going to go back to what I've been doing most of the weekend.

I don't know about you, but I've been needing this relaxing weekend. I hope you are having a relaxing weekend too!

Over the weekend, we had a tragedy hit our family.

It's not anything we won't overcome, and fortunately it does not involve the health or death of a human family member. But, it does involve the death of one our precious pets.

Our sweet Pomeranian, Barbie, got out of our yard and went out on the road in front of our house and was hit by a car (on Friday).

A woman walking saw the accident and stopped, pulled Barbie off the road and was then quickly assisted by another woman driving by. The other woman happened to have her own dog in her car and was on her way to the veterinarian. She urged the first women to help her load Barbie into her car and they then both rushed to take her to the vet. They returned a short while later and went from door to door (not an easy task in our large neighborhood) looking for the owners of the injured dog. I had already been made aware that Barbie had been hit (from our next door neighbors) and was waiting for the ladies to return. When they did, they allowed me to follow them back to the clinic.

It was there that I was given the great opportunity to get to know these 2 women that took time out of their lives (several hours) and showed tremendous kindness and concern for not just our precious family pet, but an animal in need of help.

Our sweet Barbie was injured too badly to save her and so I made the decision (with the help of the veterinarian) to put her to sleep. I was with her when she died.

I thanked these women over and over for taking her so quickly to the vet, as if it had not been for their kindness and immediate decision to handle the situation, she might have suffered further out on the road. Because she was at the clinic and treated with fluids and pain medications, she was stabilized and out of pain when I saw her. My family and I were relieved to know that she was so loved in her final moments and protected from the pain that might have surely been in store for her.

We will miss our beloved pet ...

Barbie's death has affected Alexis the most, as Barbie was her dog - a gift to her when she was 4 years old. She immediately gave this precious pup the name of Barbie, as Alexis loved Barbies. I found this written on the white board in Alexis' room ...

It says: Dear God, Please let Barbie live a happy life in Heaven and let her meet all the dogs of ours that have died and play with them and someday I want to see her in Heaven. Amen.

*********************

While this has been devastating to our family, there are far worse things that can happen in one's life. I was reminded of this fact on Saturday when I went over to visit my friend Angie at her site Keep Believing. Angie wrote a post on Friday called, The Worst Results Ever that just broke my heart. I beg you to go over and offer Angie your kind words, your words of support, your words of wisdom, your prayers - during this truly devastating and difficult time in her a Brian's lives.

I told those women that stopped to help my dog that, "We women - we need to just take over the world," and I was joking at the time, but what I meant was that there are no more compassionate and caring human beings ... than women. We gather and we rally and we support and we make the hard decisions.

Please go over and show Angie your love, as her sweet husband, Brian, is struggling and is in the final days of his life. Angie needs our shoulders and ears and arms and hearts and prayers.

-

Remember in May - when I was on TV?

Remember?

That interview I did on one of our local morning television shows ?

It was a good interview - I thought.

I enjoyed it.

I was famous - for a whole hour - here in my home city.

Well ...

I guess word is getting around ...

I guess it was only a matter of time ...

That I would one day ...

Be contacted by a prime-time television show!

YES - I was.

Yes - it came in the form of an e-mail from a producer of the CBS show - inviting me to consider being a ...swap-ie.

I won't name the title of the show - as I am not sure I am supposed to because ...

I declined.

It's really ...

THE LAST THING I NEED!

For the whole nation to sit down, turn on their televisions and ...

See me ...

Shipped off to some other lady's house in maybe - Iowa ... and have her shipped into mine!

For the whole nation to tune in to see ...

Me ... slopping pigs or milking cows ...

Or ...

Driving a tractor or bailing hay on a family farm.

All the while ... the mom-replacing-me would be showin' the world ...

All those cars sitting in my driveway ...

Hear stories about how we find dead deer in our pool and how the father of the On The Upside household lasso's the deer, loads it into a wheel barrel and carts it off into the woods and dumps the poor thing - with his little redneck son by his side.

For the whole nation to come into my house and witness the fact that my children take baths only every few days or so and farther between ... if they have been swimming.

For the whole nation to look inside my laundry room and SEE those baskets of white socks that I am NEVER going to match up. That I just go out and buy new socks ... so I don't have to do this duty!

For the whole nation to see that I allow my forth child to eat rotten fruit.

For the whole nation to see that I have more shoes than I have places I will ever where so many shoes - to!

For the whole nation to hear about how I rely on our neighbors to castrate our cats.

For the whole nation to hear and possibly even see how the youngest On The Upside girl - only 7 years old - is allowed to wear little-girl-make-up.

For the whole nation to hear how the mother of the On The Upside family is sometimes so preoccupied that she will agree to most anything.

For the whole nation to see and hear how the boy child is destined to be a carnie.

For the whole nation to see how the On The Upside mother sometimes tells the small daughter that armadillo tails are really unicorn horns.

For the whole nation to find out that the only reason we go to church is because the 7 year old wakes the entire On The Upside household with LOUD SCREAMS on Sunday mornings - to go church - like the loudest church bell you have ever heard.

For the whole nation to see how the On The Upside kids sometimes wear their pajamas all day long, stay up way too late at night and have to fix themselves bowls of Captain Crunch cereal for lunch.

Oh, yes ... and for the whole nation to learn about the cowboy ghost that lives in our upstairs hallway.

For the whole nation to come into my house and learn that ... while I do help run my husband's electrical contracting business, maintain and run a household, monitor and chauffeur and feed and clothe and teach and raise - 4 children and 2 dogs and 2 cats and ... volunteer on the board of the PTA and in the school's of my children, and ... live a very busy life of cleaning and shopping and paying bills and running here and there ... that I also ... spend some of my time BLOGGING!

Nooooooooo ...

I don't need the whole nation to learn these things.

See these things.

Hear about these things.

I declined.

I just couldn't imagine any good coming from me being shipped off to some other family's house to - take care of and feed their children or interact with a strange man I would likely not like near as well as I like my own.

I could not imagine any good coming from my children being introduced to a potentially nicer mother or a woman that might influence them to believe that things are not being done correctly 'round here!

NOPE!

I declined.

If I'm going to be featured on a reality TV show ...

I'm holding out for ...

SURVIVOR!

I figure I have way more experience and years of useful covert tactics to tackle a show like that! And ... the worst things I might be expected to do is eat some bugs or sleep in the jungle with some snakes or some monkeys. I'm already living in a house full of monkeys and ... I've known worse things than eating bugs. *It's raising children and pleasin' husbands I'm not so great at!*

Or maybe ... Extreme Makeover!

I'd be open to Ty Pennington coming down here to Texas ...

He doesn't even have to build me a new house ...

He can build me a bookcase - I'll just stand there and help him for an hour and ... wipe the sweat off his brow ...

On the upside ... Maybe one day they'll be tripping over themselves just to get at me (tee hee). Right now - all I got is this blog and that other blog. The first of which my littlest daughter still on occasion calls ... On The Outside. I keep telling her, "It's ON THE UPSIDE - UPSIDE!" *sigh*

A friend and I were talking, not long ago, about our houses and how there are never enough rooms. Even if you have a spare room, it doesn't take long before it becomes filled with stuff and quickly is defined as the "cat room" or the "office" or the "computer room". I went on to tell her that it will be interesting when all the kids leave home - to have these rooms in the house to do with whatever we wish.

The only problem, in my case, is that I will be so old by the time my last child actually leaves home, that I will need - not an office or a craft room - but a therapy room. Come to think of it, I could use a therapy room right now!

I need a therapy room - now! I need there to be a soaking tub in this room and a massage table where my physical therapist can come daily and massage my aging body into shape. I also need a nice comfy couch whereupon I can lie when my psychotherapist attempts to massage my wrinkled mind into some semblance of sanity. It would be a multi-therapy room - a room for all therapy. It would be - my room.

No ... we don't have the space for a therapy room, nor do I have time for therapy right now. When the time comes, I'll probably have to do my own therapy. I'll sit pathetically in any of the vacant rooms of my house and talk to myself or maybe into a recorder ... so I will remember what I have said. I'll take notes and offer advice that I'd never actually take. And then I'll just slide my hunched back up and down on the edge of a door (like an old cat) to massage the tension away. Sometimes, I do that now.

When the day comes that I actually have all the rooms in the house for myself - these rooms now occupied with small people that look a lot like me, and all of their belongings ... I will not know what to do. I will not know what to do with the space or the silence. What will I do ... with all of the rooms?

One of my daughters said to me at dinner recently, "When we're all gone ... you're gonna miss us." I said, "You're gonna miss me too." And then I said, "I don't ever want that day to come ... the day when you all are gone."

And I meant it.

I don't need the rooms. I may be crazy some of the time and tired a lot of the time, but ... I don't need the rooms. I need the children ... to fill their space with their voices and music and crayons and toys and clothes on the floor. I need their sounds bouncing off the walls and their hand prints on the glass. I need their shoes lying on the floor and their feet tapping under the table. I need their toothbrushes on the counters and their towels on the floors. I need their whispers in the darkness, their laughter in the distance and their songs ... never to go silent.

On the upside ... there have been just enough rooms in our house. And, each of the rooms holds the memories that have given life to our home. They are solid and deep and lasting - the rooms and the memories. The rooms have held our lives ... the lives and memories of all of my precious children.

A couple of years ago, I decided I wanted a country Christmas tree, with heavy grape vine draped through the branches and a twig star on the top.

I had my mind set.

I was clear about what I wanted.

I was sure it would be perfect for our house and for our family.

I went about finding the items that I thought would create a perfect rustic tree filled with whimsical country charm.

I found the heavy grape vine and small country bears.

I gathered twigs from our yard.

I found the berry sprigs and red grapes to hang on the tree's branches.

A found the perfect green and red ribbon and made huge, fluffy bows.

I gathered beautiful large pine cones.

And ... what I couldn't find or gather ...

I made ....

I painted Santas ...

And I glued ribbon and pine to painted hearts.

I searched for just the right buttons to adorn tiny trees.

I tied ribbons and painted stripes on candy canes.

I also painted trains and ...

More trees.

And snowmen with buttons and brooms.

There are gingerbread men.

And snowflakes.

And even more trees.

And winter bird houses perched amongst the pine cones, berries and bows.

It is not the most beautiful tree.

Nor is it a tree that would fit into just any house.

Some might even call it gaudy or loaded down with too much country stuff.

That's all okay, because ...

This is ... our tree.

The tree that is decorated to fit into ... our family's house.

The tree that I made for ...

My family.

-

"Mom - how long do you plan to live?" Little Billy is sitting behind me in his seat in the van.

"Oh, I hope I live to at least 80," I answer quickly.

"That's all?" he is surprised. "I have 89 years still. I'm going to live to 100 years old."

"Well, I hope you do, Sweetie," I look at my darling son in the rear view mirror. "But ... make sure you never blink," I say, and giggle.

"Why?" he is confused.

"Because it passes by in a flash. It seems like a long time, but it will be over before you know it and you don't want to miss a thing. Don't blink."

There is this Bar-B-Q place near my house that is known for its delicious barbecued beef brisket and ribs. I love the brisket and smoked turkey the best. But, my favorite thing about this place is its yummy creamed corn.

My sister sometimes teases me about my love of food. She thinks I obsess over food and I think she is probably right. It's not that I eat all the time or gorge myself at family gatherings - it's just obvious to her that I take tremendous delight in delicious foods. It's true - when I find a food that I just love, I think about that food a lot. I crave it and make time in my life to search it out and enjoy it - over and over again.

Imagine all the foods in the world that we will never try in our lifetime. It is something not many people think of or even care about, I am sure. But ... it is one of those things that, if we had the opportunity, might enrich our lives in ways we might never imagine.

This is true of all of life's experiences. Unless we take the time to truly see the opportunities that cross our paths and stop and taste the deliciousness of the moment - we might never experience the details of life. Meet the people that can change our destiny. Hear the words that might alter our perceptions.

When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a Mack truck driver when I grew up. I wanted a beautiful, red Mack truck. Somewhere along the path of my life, I changed my mind about joining the trucking union and pursuing a life as a truck driver. I can't tell you the exact moment or the words, but ... something happened that altered my decision. Life has a way of doing that to us - placing people in our paths or thoughts in our minds that form our beliefs and desires and interpretations. It might be something truly magnificent that will alter our course, or it might be something subtle - like creamed corn.

I went to drop Alexis off at choir practice a few weeks ago - it was beginning to rain. After leaving her at the church and driving away, I noticed a nicely dressed woman standing at the bus stop near the church. In the sky above our heads, the clouds were dark and ominous. I could see the rain coming.

I drove past the woman thinking about how wet she was going to get - standing there on the sidewalk in her nice clothes and shoes. I became worried for her. Sad for her.

I turned the corner at the stop light and then made the quick decision to turn again back into the church parking lot. I drove near the woman standing at the bus stop, rolled my passenger side window down and gestured for her to come over. When she approached the car, I reached over and handed her an umbrella I had stashed in the pocket of my door. "Here - take this umbrella," I insisted, "You are going to get soaked."

The woman smiled and thanked me. She went on, maybe too long, about how generous I was to take the time to stop and help her. I drove off and as I turned onto the street and headed towards my house, the sky opened up and the rain poured down.

I don't know if this one event affected this woman's life in any significant way - maybe it did - maybe it did not. What I do know is how this event affected mine. I was the person that crossed this woman's path on this one day, and she mine and ... when I stopped my life for just one moment, to see her ... I was forced to make a decision. The decision I made was - to help her and ... I will always remember that red umbrella and the smile it put on a stranger's face.

I have lots of umbrellas.

That creamed corn that I love is not significant in the scheme of things, but ... it makes me happy when I eat it. It's sweet and smooth. It's especially delicious and I am affected somehow, every time I enjoy it.

I hope I live to be 80 years old. I hope I never have to be a Mack truck driver to make a living. I hope I am able to enjoy lots of new foods in the course of the rest of my life and ... I hope I remember to stop my life every now and then to acknowledge the people that cross my path. The events that unravel. The words spoken with meaning and especially those uttered quietly.

I need to remember that life is full of opportunity and gifts and I need to remind myself - like I suggested to my little son - to keep my eyes and mind wide open. Keep my vision clear and my awareness sharp and ... not to blink.

The phone rings.

I answer it.

The woman - what sounds like a soft, computer generated voice - says, "Do you have a - deer in your pool?"

My mind says, Well that's odd, but my mouth answers, "Why yes we do," in response to this survey question, because ... WE DID HAVE A DEER IN OUR POOL!

I say, "Who is this?" and my friend - we'll call her Fifi - says, "It's me - Fifi." I laugh out loud.

I explain that I found it strange - that a survey company would be calling my house - asking this odd question - but, I could have sworn when I heard her voice that it sounded so smooth - so strangely computer-like. I told her I half expected her to continue by asking, "What do you plan on doing about that?" or some other question, in a very survey-like manner.

We could not stop laughing.

Yes ... there was a deer in our pool!

Poor thing ... wandered into our yard and I guess - fell into the pool and drowned. It did have two of it's legs pretty scratched or chewed up - some coyote could have gotten to it and in trying to escape, it fell into the pool and died. We really don't know.

When my children brought the dead deer to my attention and all 5 of us were standing around the pool looking at the poor thing, my son asked, "How are you going to get it out?"

I, of course, said, "I. Am. Not. The. One. Getting. The. Deer. Out. Of. The. Pool," to my curious son. I went on to explain, "Daddy will handle it when he gets home."

My son looked surprised and looked at me and said, "Daddy?" like that would be impossible. Like he was imagining that we would call someone - the people that did this sort of thing - the people that would come to our house to get the deer out of the pool.

I laughed and said, "Yes, Daddy. It is definitely a "boy's" job."

"How will he do it?"

Walking away, back towards the house, I said, "I don't know. I guess he'll just get a rope and lasso it - pull it out. He's a Texas boy - he'll know what to do."

My son, still standing beside the pool, staring at the poor dead deer said, "I can't wait to see this."

On the upside ... He did. He lassoed it. Put it in a wheelbarrow, wheeled it across the road, took it into the woods - and dumped it. I guess that's how they handle this sort of thing - Texas boys. My son was right by his daddy's side - learning the ropes..

When I had my twins - 15 years ago - I think I was a pretty good mother.

I think I was like most new mothers, in that I did everything by the book. I kept them on a schedule, I burped them after each feeding, I gave them a bath nearly every single day, I put shoes and socks on their feet, I brushed their hair and put lovely pony-tails on the sides of their heads. I was a good mom.

The more kids I began to have, the farther and farther I began to stray from the "model mother" persona that I once resembled. Actually, it probably began to fade long before I actually gave birth to my son. The beginning of the downward spiral was - oh ... probably after about the first year after my twins were born.

So ... that means - if am going to be honest - that I have been a less than "model mother" for at least 15 years - giving myself credit for being exceptional for merely one year!

Yep - that sounds about right.

I have been very aware of this failing for many, many years. It bothers me, of course, and I often try to do better - but, I am just a mediocre mom in most regards. I yell - far too much! I complain - far too much! I set very high expectations - way too much! On some things - like school - I think I am pretty successful as a mother. And, in raising some pretty fun, loving and socially adept children - I have done well. But ... there are certainly some areas that I am miserable at and have failed pathetically. I am a mediocre mom. I know all this.

Yesterday, Alexis came over to where I was sitting on the couch and stood in front of me.

In her hand she held a banana.

I watched as she began eating this banana.

Suddenly ... I saw ... as she folded down the peel, the nastiest bruise on the side of the banana.

In my mind I thought, "Is she going to keep eating that yucky, bruised banana?"

She took another bite.

In my mind I thought, as I squinted my eyes and my stomach turned a flip, "Is she going to eat that yucky part of that banana?"

She took yet another bite.

In my mind I thought, "Should I tell her? Should I tell her?" and then I watched, through squinted eyelids (because I couldn't watch out-right or I felt like I surly might throw up), as she took a big bite - eating the yucky bruised part of the banana.

She stood in front of me and ate the whole banana - yucky, squishy, bruised parts and all.

I let her.

I never said a word.

I debated about telling her, but thought, "It won't kill her. If she likes the taste and the texture doesn't bother her - let her eat it. I wouldn't eat it, but it won't kill her. It shouldn't do anything to her, other than encourage astonishment from others if she ever does it around anyone outside of our house. That's okay - my sister has been known to eat boiled shrimp - shells and all (blech!) - Alexis will fit right in - as long as she always sits next to my sister. "

Being as Alexis is the 4th child - it occurred to me - while I watched her eat this banana - that I would have had a hard time eating - that I have never told that child about rotten fruit. Either that - or she chose to ignore this lesson and has decided to distinguish between those things she will eat and won't eat, on her own. I prefer to believe the latter.

This is just an example of how my mothering skills have seriously deteriorated over the years. Somewhere along the way, I stopped teaching the lesson about rotten fruit.

I'm certain there are many other lessons that I have failed to teach Alexis that I probably taught my first born children - because she is at the tail-end of our line of children and also because she has been stuck with me as her mother (*sigh*).

I hope she survives.

On the upside ... I guess with Alexis around, not much fruit will ever go to waste in our house. And ... when my kids eat boiled shrimp, I'll try to remind them to peel the shells off first. My poor sister - she didn't realize you weren't supposed to eat the shells until I told her (you should have seen my face when I saw her crunching on those shrimp and then how we laughed - HA!) - just this past summer - she's in her 40's. I wonder why our mother never told my poor sister to take off those shells? Maybe my poor mothering skills aren't my fault at all - maybe it's just a disease that has been passed down from generation to generation in our family. That's probably what happened. We're just defective or genetically challenged in the mothering department.

I have a husband of 23 years.

I have 4 kids for the past 15 years.

I have a house and yard to take care of.

I have meals to make.

Mouths to feed.

Laundry to do.

Bills to pay.

Shopping.

I have 2 dogs.

I have 3 cats.

I have a lot of stuff to do in my world!

So ... the other day ... when our yellow cat - Garfield - came home - CASTRATED ... I could not have been more pleased!

With Garfield, we open the door - let him in to eat and sleep and then let him out when he wants out and he wanders around at night and comes back when he pleases. Sometimes ... he is gone for several days at a time.

Apparently ... over the course of the past several weeks, he has been, not only, going in and out of our house to sleep and eat - but in and out of someone else's house as well - because ... his other family decided to have poor Garfield - FIXED!

Like I said ... I could not have been more pleased!

I can now cross that worry off of my to-do list - YIPPIE!

Along with the shots - as I have to assume his other family probably got those for him as well - took care of all of it while he was in for the snip-snip operation.

My kids were not at all pleased.

They were quite distressed.

"He's our cat," they all screamed, upon hearing (and seeing) the news. "We need to get a collar and put a tag on it that says 'This is Garfield and he HAS A HOME - SEND HIM BACK HOME.'" They were not happy - at all.

But, they didn't want to hear any of it.

On the upside ... We honestly believed that he had come back - trying to maybe get away from the other family that had done this to him, but ... he's gone again. And ... just for the record - when he comes back again - and he will - I AM NOT BUYING THAT CAT A COLLAR! This is the pefect arrangement as far as I am concerned.

In my kitchen, behind my flour canister - lives the tiniest little spider. I know he lives there. I see him most everyday. I don't like spiders, but he doesn't bother anyone and so I let him be.

Every now and then, when I am out in my yard ... I will see a snake. I see way more snakes than I really want to see ... but, mostly they don't bother me. I watch them closely to make sure they are slithering away from me and not towards me - but, I pretty much deal with these snakes.

When I go out into our garage, occasionally, I will come across a tiny scorpion. Now ... these are those Texas scorpions - the type that will sting you and it hurts - but they won't kill you. Still ... I run for the biggest shoe I can find, return to where the scorpion was seen - search him out and SQUASH it until it is good and DEAD!

Now ... if I am walking into my kitchen or bathroom or ANYWHERE ... and I come across a ROACH - one of those HUGE Texas ROACHES (water bugs, they call them) - a chill runs across the back of my neck and tickles up my skull in such a way that it feels like my hair is standing straight up in the air. I will stumble backwards or sideways or spring up from the floor towards the ceiling - nearly crawling out of my skin - to back away from the ROACH! I will never find a shoe fast enough to SQUASH the thing, but I will try ... and when I return to where it was last seen ... and it is gone, I will feel as though the nasty creature is crawling on me, in all my cupboards, beneath all our sheets and inside my shoes ... until it is seen again and I can KILL it!!

I hate MICE about as much as I hate ROACHES!

I don't see them often - thank goodness!

Sometimes, I do ...

One day recently, I was sitting at my desk.

I look up.

Standing by the door in my room is Little Billy, Alexis and my niece.

They are besides themselves with excitement.

"Close your eyes," Alexis screeches.

I do.

"You can open them now," my son says, and is now standing very close to my body.

My eyes fly open, I fly back, my chair nearly tips me on the floor - I make every attempt possible to crawl out of my skin, but can not do it, I SCREAM, "What is it ? What is it?!?"

"It's a mouse," he whispers, and he has it pinched between his fingers - standing way to close to me - RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF MY BEDROOM!!!!

I made every effort to calm myself.

"TAKE. THE. MOUSE. OUT. OF. THIS. HOUSE!" I say this loudly, but calmly - very aware that if I startle the boy that he might very well drop the creature - it will scamper away - never to be seen again.

Little Billy - pinching the mouse between his fingers - holding the mouse way out in front of his body - walks down the stairs, through the kitchen, out the back door and into the yard. When he returned into the house he explained that one of the cats had captured the mouse and they all SAVED it before the cat could eat it up - YIPPIE!!

I instructed all of these mouse-saving-kids to WASH THEIR HANDS AND PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE ... NEVER DO THAT AGAIN - EVER!

A short while later ... while I was standing at the kitchen sink washing dishes, I look over and see Little Billy heading out the back door with a fistful of Girl Scout cookies in one hand. In his other hand he has something I can not see. I say, "What do you have?"

He flings open the sliding door, looks in my direction, he says, "Cookies for me," and he crams one into his mouth. He then holds out his other hand and says, "And, a piece of cheese for the mouse," and then he is gone.

On the upside ... I don't know if he was able to find the mouse again - I only saw him run off into the woods behind our house - a pile of melting Girl Scout Thin Mint cookies in one hand, for himself, and a slice of American cheese, still in the wrapper ... FOR THE MOUSE, in the other! I couldn't help but smile. Isn't he the cutest thing? I thought, and then ... my smile turned quickly to a frown. I began to imagine him back in the woods feeding that MOUSE a melted Girl Scout Thin Mint cookie - instead of the cheese. That would mean - you know - the mouse would then follow the boy back home - you know ... If you give a mouse one Girl Scout Cookie ... then he'll want ... ANOTHER GIRL SCOUT COOKIE! (*sigh like a fat mother addicted herself to delicious Girl Scout cookies*)

I'm going to have to SQUASH that mouse - if I find him anywhere near my Girl Scout cookies - I AM!

I don't always know where I am supposed to be, I am only ever aware of where I am and often where I'd like to be.

Sometimes ... I am completely happy in the moment.

Before Christmas I felt rushed and frantic. I shopped and wrapped packages. I decorated the house. I didn't get around to baking, not even one single cookie. I planned our trip to Utah and I packed for my entire family. I tried to feel excited about Christmas. I tried to become excited about our Utah adventure. Excitement came only briefly on Christmas morning when I saw the happiness in the eyes of my children.

Then ... we hurried to the airport, weighed our luggage, shifted our belongings so each bag was not over the 50 lb. weight limit - ended up with 3 suitcases weighing almost exactly 50 lbs. each - what are the odds of that? Saved us a ton of money not being charged for the extra weight.

I was excited about that.

We boarded the plane to Phoenix - all went well, while I am not a casual flier and frighten myself to death over the least little odd noise or fluctuation in cabin pressure or altitude or tilting of the plane.

We got off the plane in Phoenix and boarded a new plane to Salt Lake City. The pilot immediately informed us that the airport in Salt Lake City was closed - they were having difficulty clearing runways, blah, blah, blah. We took off anyway, much to my confusion and fear! We headed off towards Utah and flew right into the blizzard that would put our plane into a "holding pattern" above the airport for what seemed like an eternity. How I knew we were in a "holding pattern" was because the pilot was so nice as to inform us that this was what was going on - waaaaaay more information than I really needed to know.

While we were flying in circles or figure 8's over the Salt Lake City Airport, I tried hard not to glance out the window. I tried hard not to become panicked. I tried to ignore my children that found the bumpy turbulence entertaining and would pretend they were on a roller coaster ride each time the plane would drop and rise again. I tried not to let my children see terror in my eyes.

I love the snow.

I do not love the snow when it is blowing hard and thick outside the window of a Boeing 737. I could not stop imagining that episode of Twilight Zone (Nightmare at 20,000 Feet) - the one with William Shatner - where he looks out his plane window and sees a little gremlin monster messing with the plane. I could not see out the window - past all the snow, but I still imagined ... monsters and other planes in "holding patterns" above a closed airport with closed runways and planes that would soon run out of fuel and have no where to land, but maybe crash into the side of a Utah mountain or be diverted to a nearby freeway ...

Before the Twilight Zone gremlin had a chance to dismantle any of the plane engines or unbolt a wing from the body of the plane - we suddenly landed. Without warning. Without incident. Safely.

I was excited!

Once on the ground, we made our way through the airport, retrieved our luggage, met our friends and headed towards the car. When we walked through the automatic doors leading out to the parking lot, I could feel the cold. The cold that was a welcome change from the humidity I had left behind in Texas. The cold I had longed for. The cold that enveloped me and seeped quickly through my clothes and into my lungs. The cold that brought all of my senses alive.

It made me smile.

I was excited.

And then ...

I saw the snow.

As if I was like a child.

I was excited ... like I always am when I see snow.

Smell snow.

Touch snow.

I yearn to be near the snow, like I yearn to be lulled into the darkness of a rainy day.

I don't always know where I am supposed to be, but sometimes ... when I am where I need to be ... want to be ... I am completely happy in the moment.

-

We're in the van on the way home from eating at one of our favorite Mexican restaurants.

We pull off the freeway at our exit and decide to stop at the Exxon near our house for a cup of coffee.

The parking lot is packed with cars and trucks, some filling their tanks and some just stopping for sodas or cigarettes. The freeway, above the station, is a flurry of cars and yet they are not visible from where we are. The night has settled in all around the neighborhood and there is blackness up and down the nearby streets. Yet, the gas station and its concrete corner is flooded with florescent lights and buzzes with life.

The people are mostly in a rush, as they move to and from the store to purchase their goods. We drive slowly into the parking lot.

Suddenly, I hear my son, in the back seat, scream out in excitement.

He has seen ........ the Army soldiers.

"Dude ... you guys are awesome!" he yells at the window, as he raises a fist in the air. "You guys are awesome and you drive Humvees!"

The Army soldiers, at least six large transport vehicles and three Humvees, have gathered at the station for refueling on their way to Camp Bullis. Camp Bullis is a Military Training Camp near to where we live. There are often soldiers at the Exxon and they never escape my boy's attention.

I turn around in my seat just in time to see the glory sparkle from my son's eyes. The pride. The fascination. The Joy. And then he turns in my direction and he smiles.

We glide easily through the parking lot and find a spot near the front door. My son follows his father into the store, to beg for candy for he and his little sister. When they return, they walk past our van and out into the lighted parking lot, towards a Humvee parked out near the road. I move behind the drivers seat and drive our car over to where they now stand.

As I pull up, I see my husband talking to one of the soldiers and my son is leaning in the passenger door talking with another; I can see only the top of his head above the window.

I grabbed my cell phone and took a picture of this moment on my cell phone's camera ... the moment ... my son ... met his heroes.

When my son climbed back into the car, I turned in my seat to see him. He said, so proudly, "I told them they're awesome and they let me sit in their Humvee." He wore a big ol' smile on his face ... the whole way home. And so did I.

He does so love ... the sight of a soldier.

Don't we all.

Alexis believes most anything I tell her.

She depends on me to ... teach her.

She depends on me to ... guide her.

She depends on me to ...

Tell her the truth.

And ...

Most of the time ...

I do.

Tell her the truth.

But ...

Sometimes ...

I can't help myself.

Like the other day ...

When ...

Little Billy came home from one of his out-exploring-the-world afternoons and brought home this ...

"Well ... it's a unicorn horn - of course," I tell Alexis, in response to her question whilst standing in our kitchen.

"But ... are they supposed to be all scaly like that," she reaches over and touches the scaly horn.

I shake my head most confidently, "Why yes - that is how they look when they fall off. And when they fall off ... all the unicorn glitter falls off too - leaving them looking like this," I am smiling a big smile, all the while looking into my darling girl's adorable face.

She is a little excited now.

Excited by the fact that we - she and I - are in possession of a REAL LIVE UNICORN HORN - right in the middle of our kitchen - sitting right there on the kitchen table. She can't stop smiling.

But then ... she does stop smiling for just a moment and says, "Is there really such a thing as unicorns?" I don't know what took her so long to ask.

So ... what do I say?

Do I wiggle my way out of this fantasy discussion?

Do I confess to my ridiculous lies and tell the sweet child the truth?

Or ...

Do I continue with the pretense?

Continue to try to make Alexis believe there are in fact unicorns and they live right in our neighborhood - right near our house?

Yes ...

I lie!

I say ...

"Well ... here's it's horn - isn't it?"

On the upside ... While Alexis and I were happily discussing our unicorn theories in the kitchen ... in the living room - was Little Billy - SCREAMING, "IT'S AN ARMADILLO TAIL! IT'S AN ARMADILLO TAIL AND ...WASH YOUR HANDS AFTER YOU TOUCH IT, BECAUSE DAD SAYS IT CAN HAVE A DISEASE THAT WILL MESS UP YOUR FACE!"

Poor Alexis .......... I'm pretty sure she was better off believing it was a unicorn's horn - yep!

We went to eat at a little pizza place near our house.

I was sitting at a large table with my family and some friends. Alexis and my niece were sharing a small table near ours - just having a good ol' time eating their pizza and talking.

A while into our lunch, me very content and enjoying my pizza and grown-up conversation, the two little girls came over and stood beside my chair and my niece says, "Me and Alexis have lots of stuff in common," and she smiles.

I look down into their sweet little faces and say, "Is that right? Like what? What do you have in common?"

She then says, looking down at her clothes, "We both have jeans on. We both have a pink shirt on. We both have flip flops on. We both are eating pizza. We both have our hair in ponytails. We both have ice in our drinks," and she goes on and on - for about another 5 or 6 more things they have in common.

I smile and say, "Yep, that's a bunch of stuff you two have in common," and I turn my attention back to the conversation going on at my table and figure they have gone on their way.

But then I hear, "And we are both missing our front teeth, and we both are in 1st grade, and we are both in the same class ..."

I turn slowly to see the two of them still standing by my chair. (*Aunt Kellan's brain begins to turn to mush while she tries very hard to keep her eyes from rolling back into her head*).

"O-Kay," I say, in a tone that she knows well to mean "That is enough of that".

And she then sighs and says, "And ... we both live in houses, we are both six years old, we both eat food, we ..." and I stand up from my seat, put my hand on their identical little backs and guide them gently back to their little table - AWAY FROM WHERE I AM SEATED!

On the upside ... Yep, yep, yep ... just like two little jabber-mouthed peas in a pod. She'd have gone on forever - FOREVER - if I'd have let her! What do they think I am - a SOUNDING BOARD FOR EVERY SINGLE THOUGHT THAT POPS INTO THEIR BUSY LITTLE BRAINS?

I'm gonna take a shower today. I also might just shave my legs.

After I had kids (15 years ago), I began to realize that a person could get by on a shower every-other-day. Every third day, if it is a trade-off for serious sleep. Yep ... I certainly never planned on adopting this previously unacceptable poor hygiene habit, but it happened. To this day, I shave my legs as seldom as possible. I will shave my arm pits whenever I'm in the shower - I guess that is because I see that hair more easily, as it is closer to my face. My legs - I can see those too - it's just too much work to incorporate into my every-other-day shower ritual.

And my kids, they are on an every-other-day bath ritual too (unless they are obviously filthy). And if it's summer, and they have gone swimming in the pool - that counts as a bath, in our house ("Nope ... you can't take a bath, you went swimming today). The pool has chlorine in it; a sufficient amount to kill most any germ - it counts as a bath, in my opinion. Sometimes, they can go a week or so without an actual bath ... during the summer. Not my sister-in-law's kids. Her kids have a bath, need it or not, every single day; clean sparkly hair - sleek shiny bodies - her kids. No matter how I try to spin this, this comes across like I'm not quite the mother I should be. It's like I'm sending my kids down to the creek or something to take their weekly bathes; that's how I think it reflects on me. Now mind you, I am aware of this reflection, but it doesn't bother me enough to actually change the every-other-day bath ritual I have perfected in our house.

I never would have believed, when I was a twenty-something year old girl, that wore panties and bras to match her outfits to work, that I would transform into a person that would go days without shaving her legs or wear pantyhose with runs in them - and not care. At age twenty-something I'm certain I would have said, "Oh, she must care. She cares. She just didn't have time to change those pantyhose - poor thing." But the truth is ... I don't care. And, all those calluses on my toes that I spent years building up in order to successfully wear all those 31/2" pumps - they disappeared early on; the calluses and the pumps.

One last thought on this subject, because it is revealing and embarrassing. On Oprah (yes, I watch Oprah) not too long ago, there was this female gynecologist speaking about things that women should beware of and the subject came up about tampons. The doctor mentioned that it was not uncommon for women to come to her office for regular pap exams and during the course of the exam a stray tampon had been found. The doctor said this happened quite often and made this statement matter-of-factly. Oprah looked at the doctor with a look that only Oprah can give someone when she is flabbergasted.

I was not at all surprised by this news, as I have lost a few myself - up there. Forgotten it was there - found it a day later, "Oh, that's right, I'm on my period - better take that out." Only women that have children and forgetful teen-age girls, forget they are on their period and neglect to realize that they have foreign objects stuck in their orifices'.

This is the point where I should go into how your mind goes, once you have kids, but I thinks that's obvious. You first lose your time - and then you lose your mind. Tampon's, while they may be lost for periods of time, are not important enough a thing as to be listed as "things lost", once you have kids. The tampons ... I just flush down the toilet and go on my way.

I'm going to take a shower now. And I'm going to wash my hair. I'm going to try to remember that I did indeed wash my hair, so that I don't wash my hair again (that sometimes happens) - because God knows ... people that have kids don't have the time to wash anyone's hair twice.

On the upside ... even if I had time to take a shower tomorrow - I don't have too (la, la, la, la,la).

One day, late in the afternoon at our house, my nephew was standing in our kitchen with my son. I was cooking (an unusual event around here) and my son asked, What are you cooking for dinner?" in a very interested tone. My nephew said, "She's not cooking dinner," in a very confident tone. I said, "Well ... it just so happens ... I am cooking dinner," in defense of myself.

I was not offended by the comment my nephew made, as it is certainly quite an unusual sight to see me cooking and he was obviously confused by my actions. Now, mind you, he is not often around to see the times I actually do attempt to make these dinners for my family, but he is around enough to conclude that, unlike his mother, I am not much of a cook.

I'm not much of a cook at all. I don't like to cook and I'm not interested in learning new or better ways to improve my cooking. I can do many things and I am pretty good at a lot of things - cooking is not one of those things. I do what I can and what I have to, to feed my family - but no more. I can bake just about anything and have been known to do that often, but I am a miserable cook. I am sorry for that.

I am a good house-keeper though. What I lack in cooking skills, I make up for in cleanliness. I think my family would probably trade their clean rooms or bathrooms for a decent meal every dinner time - but it's not ever gonna happen.

I watch the cooking channel on TV a lot, but this does not make me a better cook. My family finds it amusing that I am so obsessed with watching this channel, knowing the poor cook that I am. I'm not sure what it is about these cooks that fascinates me ... but, I watch this channel all the time. My kids watch it too. I think we are all hoping that one day it will finally hit me - this habit of cooking interesting meals in thirty-minutes-or-less. It will never happen. I prefer to watch Rachael Ray slave over a pot of boiling water and turn out these fabulous meals with catchy names like Fiesta Summer Chicken or Tomato-Basil Meatloaf with Baby Garlic Potatoes, than to spend the time creating them myself.

On the upside ... Thanksgiving dinner will be at my house this year, but not to worry ... I'm really only in charge of the rolls, the mashed potatoes, the drinks, the ham and the turkey. That's right ... THE TURKEY! Can you say salmonella poisoning? (*hangs head in shame like a Culinary Institute drop-out*).