Lana vs. Pants

My mom is the coolest person I know.  She babysits whenever,takes care of my dogs when we are out of town, and gives me her Kohls cash when she earns it.  She is unintentionally funny, loves the Beach Boys, and would do anything for someone she loves.  (If she doesn't love you I hope you have a good place to hide.)

While she is a mathematical genius, she isn't the quickest to pick up on a joke.  This often makes her the butt of said joke, and she is way too easy to tease.  Once in Las Vegas we went to the hotel pool, and I noticed her swimsuit was on backwards.  After I pointed this out (rather loudly), all the other patrons were laughing, and my dad tells everyone she is really drunk (she doesn't drink).  Flustered from the harassment of her family members, she slips and falls in the pool.  It could not have been timed better.  What does Lana do?She doesn't get mad!  She paddles around the pool and laughs about it.  My dad and I will get ours one day...

Lana also has several quirky habits: 

She collects reading glasses. Actually, I think she just buys a new pair every time she can't find her current pair.  She probably has 100 pairs of reading glasses.  They can be found everywhere except on her face.

She hums and makes up silly songs. One might go..."Tess is the best, my noodle toddle goo..." The odd thing is that she might sing the same gibberish song the next week, which means it makes total sense to her.  

Those of you who know my mom know she frequently mispronounces things.  Parmesan cheese is "ParMEEzeeun," shrimp is "sremp",  a  rendezvous  is a "rendevozz", and Mexican food is "Messican".  (To my hispanic friends: she means no harm by this...the muscles in her mouth will literally not allow her to pronounce this word correctly.)

However, the biggest quirky habit (and most distressing) is that Lana really doesn't like wearing pants that much.  The doorbell rings... "Hang on I have to put on some pants!" Working at the computer...no pants.  Watching TV...no pants.  Babysitting my kids...we come home to see her pants on the floor.  We are used to it.  Chad doesn't even enter the house without shouting,  "Lana, we're home, put on your pants." My kids even have asked why Gan Gan is never wearing them.

Mom won't be offended by this blog entry.  She will laugh at herself. This is the most important thing my mother has taught me - never to take yourself too seriously.  Besides, she probably doesn't even know I have a blog and won't find it unless it shows up when Googling Barbra Streisand.  Love you, Lana!!

Pregnancy take 2

The birth of Tess...

When I got pregnant with Tess we were one month away from being done having
babies.  Halle came only after a long, hard road of infertility - several
shots, tests, surgeries, and an emotional roller before I finally got
pregnant.  Once we had our perfectly healthy little girl, my thoughts turned
from nesting to how to afford both a wedding and a trip to Europe for Chad
and me before we die.  We had multiple discussions about having a second
one, and even began "not NOT trying."  But, I really wasn't investing the
same amount of thought and mental preparation for the second child.  

We had been "not NOT trying" for a little while with no success, and we
decided to give it 6more months before we accepted our fate as a
single-child family.  Low and behold, one night of fun in month 5 I
got knocked up (just about two weeks after I ordered my brand new size 26
skinny jeans I wanted for my birthday).  Excited, yes, but also feeling some
"oh crap, here I go again."  While we had become ok with the possibly having
an only child, the thought of Halle having a sibling thrilled me.  Chad
couldn't wait to hold his precious new son, someone to teach how to hunt,
fish, throw a ball and pass down his heirlooms to (if he had any heirlooms).


As the pregnancy progressed we decided to take a "gender predictor" pee
test.  Green for a boy and yellow for a girl.  Well this particular sample
of my urine could not have turned the test specimen more green.  Score for
Chad (man time), but WTF am I going to with a boy?  A few weeks later, the
sonogram confirmed that we were, in fact, actually having a girl.  $19.99
down the toilet for the "98% positive" gender test.  Chad became oddly
quiet, and went through some sort of strange male grieving process for a
week.  I don't think he thought he could stand 3 more years of diaper
changes where one has to "clean between the folds"...Nevertheless he quickly
came out of his funk and is now a fabulous girl dad (he even paints
toenails).  

As for myself, I took this pregnancy like a free pass to an all you can eat
buffet for nine months.  6 waffles?  Bring it.  In fact, bring 8.  Chad said
he was going to throw me a party if I reached two hundo.  I gave it the old
college try but fell about 13 pounds short. Looking back, I think I deserve
some sort of consolation prize.  I might even go get some cupcakes a bottle
of wine to celebrate what could have been.

Being pregnant and unreasonably large in the summer sucks. Whoever tells you
the "clothes are cuter and blah blah blah" obviously didn't have to take
their older child to the pool every day.  Talk about a shot to the old ego.
My swimsuit resembled an ugly cocktail dress, and I floated in the water as
effortlessly as a fishing bobber.  I finally forced my poor doctor to induce
me two weeks early. (I bet I could have had that party if I  would have
waited to let nature take its course.)  Oh well, I was done!! 

Now the birth part...my first birthing experience was so easy I slept
through most of my drug-induced labor. I would wake up, watch a bit of
passions, eat a popsicle and go back to sleep.  I think the real reason they
had to use a vacuum to get Halle out was because I was in la-la land and
really not into pushing much.  (Good epidural.)  I can't say the same about
my epidural with Tess. It was nothing like the calm experience with Halle.
Only part of the spinal cord took the epidural, so I felt everything on my
left side - not awesome.  It feels exactly like what I imagine being sawed
in half would feel like.  It was OK though, the anesthesiologist apologized
the next morning and explained that sometimes the shot only hits one strand
of the spinal cord leaving the other half functioning. "Oh you are sorry,
that's cool. BTW we are only paying half of your bill, k??" 

So to wrap it up: two beautiful girls, two totally different pregnancies,
births, looks, and personalities.  In fact, with Tess, Chad may have gotten
a bit of that son he always wanted anyway.  She can kick like Hope Solo,
thinks she wants to drink "whispey" with Daddy, loves to play golf, and
really wants to go shoot a pig (she also loves clothes, make up, dolls, and
is a tad vain - still has the girly side, too).  Life with two is fun.
Totally worth it.  Glad we did it. I never have gotten those new skinny
jeans (in that size anyway), and now we have two weddings to worry about.
The trip to Europe is postponed indefinitely.  At least we are pretty sure
Tess won't go to college...she is not much for authority, or listening in
general.  Maybe Halle will support her one day when she is a starving artist drawing butts.... (see fb)

Tooth Fairy

Nobody has time for this!! All you parents know that by the time the kids are asleep you are playing rock paper scissors or some other game with much higher stakes to see who has to go slip money under the pillow and retrieve the tooth.  In our house, the tooth fairy is someone who sometimes forgets altogether.

When Halle lost her first tooth, we were so excited. What a special moment! The tooth fairy left 5 bucks, and tooth went into the safe (congratulations, robbers).  Next tooth, a fiver and the tooth goes in an envelope in the top of the closet. Third tooth?  Forgot!  Hid three bucks under the bed and told her she must have knocked it under there.  Fourth tooth?  Seriously, I am over it.  I went to bed, and Chad slipped a buck under the pillow.  The next morning I am left to explain why the tooth fairy has become  such a cheap bastard.  I went with "the harder it is to get the tooth out, the more money you get." 

Halle is no dummy, and one of her friends has already told her the tooth fairy isn't real. She asked me if this was the truth, and I choked.  I wasn't expecting the question, and quite frankly, I couldn't care much less if my kid believes in fairies or not.  My response was a cool " What do you think?"  as I casually ate my roast beef dinner.  She then says, "If tinker bell is fake then so is the tooth fairy."  I retorted with the old "If don't believe, you don't receive!" I am quite sure Halle didn’t give a big fat rip since she probably figured the next thing left under her pillow was likely going to be an I.O.U....

Teeth keep falling, and we keep waffling.  Whatever is in the wallet winds up under the pillow.  Poor Tess, she hasn't lost one yet. We may tell her that teeth just end up in the garbage disposal and then go buy a Gatorade - one with a squeezy top for sore mouths that have just lost teeth.  Besides, aren't the horrible thoughts of a life-sized rabbit hiding plastic eggs in your backyard and an elderly fat man coming down your chimney enough for a child to digest anyway?

The Duke and The Doctor

This is one of my guilty listening pleasures.  (The guiltiest one I have is
John Tesh.  His helpful hints are ahhhhmazing!!)  

I used to hate the Duke and the Doctor, but now that my little one is in
school every day until noon, it has really grown on me. I actually pulled
into a health & wellness store during regular programming to see if they
carried "Vitalogic" products. The Duke and the Doctor say any reputable
health food store does, but this particular one did not. 

I often find myself listening to a caller and immediately identifying with
his/her symptoms. "Yes, that's it! That is what I have!"  It goes off like
an alarm clock in my body.  Of course, the Duke and the Doctor remain calm
and tell them to knock off the meds and take Vitalogic XYZ.... This vitamin
regimen must be the shiznit because they recommend it for everything from
dementia to cancer. Apparently I have both, plus arthritis, the plague, and
PTSD from war.  

So, this Christmas I am asking for the entire Vitalogic regimen.  As I
listen to the program, I think "maybe I will become a picture of health;
maybe I will run a marathon!!!" But these thoughts of health are quickly
fleeting when the next radio program comes on...Ag Talk...and all I want is
a 100% beef hamburger.

Nemeses

We all have them. Not the human kind, but the kind that put a small dent in
your day.  Here are some of mine....

Cantaloupes - I buy these every time I go to the grocery store.  I buy the
whole ones due to the fact that one already cut up costs a billion dollars.
The problem is, I don't ever cut them up.  On the off chance that Chad gets
a wild hair and cuts one up, my kids enjoy a healthy dose of vitamin C.  I
am afraid of slicing food with large knives ever since I cut my thumb with a
bagel slicer.  My intentions are good, however most weekends I throw out a
squishy, untouched cantaloupe.

Ants- How do they survive like this?  I can hunt down the queen hill,
destroy it, and they have 10 new hills the next day.  Tenacious boogers.
Hate 'em.  This goes for flies and mosquitoes too, but I have been unable to
pinpoint their "nests" or whatever they have.

Acorns- Where do these suddenly come from?  Not only are they hell on my
feet when I'm trying to take a stroll through my otherwise soft grass, but
they will grow tiny little oaks all over my yard in the spring.  Also, they
make my dogs fat.  To combat my acorn infestation, I have taken to vacuuming
my yard with a shop vac.  This is soooo gratifying.  Listening to the acorns
get sucked up the tube and dumping out gallons of them in the trash is like
therapy. I have successfully dumped 5 full shop vacs full so far...

Single socks- Seriously.  Where does the other one go?  It makes no sense.
Only after a significant grace period do I throw the single away.
Sometimes the match shows up the next day stuck inside a pillowcase.

Horror movie trailers- Stop it! You are scaring my kids.  And me.  I don't
care to see a possessed child crawling across the ceiling during the
commercial break of Glee.

Leg hair- I shave twice a day sometimes.  My friends call it obsessive, I
call it not getting stuck to my sheets at night.  This is a Henley thing.
We have lots of body hair.  Thank goodness I am blonde(ish).  If I were
dark-haired I could make money at the fair sideshow. 

I am sure I have many more but at the risk of sounding like a lunatic I will
stop here.

Beanie Babies

Way back in 1992, I began a collection of Beanie Babies. I am guessing this habit lasted way longer that it should have because I currently own roughly 150 beanie babies. I even remember the horrified look on Chad's face one Christmas when my mother surprised me with several decorated on the tree. This was probably in college and should have been his cue to run. 

Now, to be fair, these things were supposed to be worth a million dollars by now. Ty had really cornered the stuffed animal market and threatened to retire each Beanie yearly. I looked them up on eBay a few years back only to be crestfallen that my plethora of beanies was worth about 50 bucks. I even had good ones like the Princess Diana bear. This saddened me. I hadn't gotten into the market quick enough to own "Tabasco" the bull before the real Tabasco copyright sued Ty and they had to rename him Snort. That one was worth some clams.  Nevertheless, I was banking on these things funding a large portion of my retirement.

Anyway, I did what any good mother who just realized her Beanies were not going to pay for a lake house would do - I gave them to my kids. I watched in horror as they gleefully pulled the plastic protected tag off each and every one of them. They play vet, zoo, school, and who knows what else with these things. I am glad they enjoy them, but I am going to be one sad mofo if the Beanie Baby market ever rebounds...

Dogs

Dogs are funny.  Every day I laugh at some antic one of our three dogs has pulled. If you don't own a dog you don't' know what you are missing!
 
Our eldest dog Savvy (a lab) enjoys digging in the trash, has super smelly farts, and has a shortened tail because the tip was chewed off by a duck that lived in the pond of a rented house in college. Being ever the gracious one she would share her dog food with the duck. When things got a little hoggish, the duck would nip her tail until Savvy would scoot over. The next tenants at that house had a pointer and that duck was dinner within a week.

The middle dog Lola (a mini eskimo) was a pet store purchase. At the time we were unable to conceive a human child, so I figured a puppy was the next best thing.  She is truly a sweet little lady, but I have decided she is diabetic because she drinks until she pukes and still urinates at any time and location she feels the need (vet says not diabetic...whatever). She is quite fat,  though most of her exercise comes from digging incessantly in our flower beds

 
Our third dog is Kevin Bacon. Kevin recently came into our lives because Savvy is 16 and will soon be chasing rabbits in heaven, and Lola will need a friend to lean on when that fateful day arrives.  On a side note, Savvy seems determined to hang in there with the new guy around - thus we have three dogs for foreseeable future.  Kevin is our first boy dog.  Chad needed another man around the house.  Too bad we got the most sissified male Australian Shepherd that ever lived. He is literally scared of pillows. We adopted him at 16 months old from a family who told us he was very well trained.  And, he appeared to be so at first, but after living around our clown circus for about two weeks, I guess he figured, "screw it, I'm going to do what I want around these people because I can obviously get away with it." His name may seem odd, but it was actually a no brainer.  Our youngest daughter has a friend who used to call her Kevin, and she would answer like it was natural to be called Kevin. That led us to KEVIN, and well dogs love bacon sooo... KEVIN BACON! Really,who doesn't want to be one degree closer to him?!  

 
All of our dogs are great.  They follow me around religiously and are known at our house as my "pupparazzi." I haven't gone to the bathroom alone in 16 years.  I will miss the day I don't have all three of my furry babies with me.  Maybe I will get a ferret by then.  I hear they are hilarious and find money in hidden places. 

SPF BINGO

South Plains Fair Bingo

One of my family's biggest traditions since I can remember is to gather and
hit the annual South Plains Fair. By family, I mean my grandmother, aunts,
mother, cousins, and my twin brothers - no granddads, fathers, or uncles.  I
am sure this arrangement was fine with the men.  I still don't think my dad
has ever graced the cotton candy, lemonade and turkey leg-covered asphalt at
the South Plains fair grounds.

Most kids go to the fair to ride rides, see animals, and eat more junk food
than they are typically allowed.  And, while we all did plenty of that, we
were taught at a young age that most of our time and attention would be paid
to the Khiva Shriner Bingo Hall. I watched my elders play hours on end,
multiple cards at a time.  I was prolific in reading bingo color balls and
numbers by 4. Bingo cards cost a quarter each then. We would eagerly watch
as our parents earned chips with each win, knowing we would get to use them
to pick out prizes (only after each of the women had earned a canned ham
with their initial winnings).  I loooove those memories, and I'm fairly
certain that this is where my love of gambling was born...

By the time high school rolled around, I would go to the fair with friends.
They came to understand that our trip would include some games of bingo with
my mom and grandmother, and they knew that I would slap their face if they
said it was boring!  Many times I would walk by the hall to find my mom
chatting up one of the guys I liked and offering him a game of bingo on her.
By then, the Bingo winners won cold hard cash!  It was like Vegas for kids
but with more smoke and flies.  Inflation had driven the cost of bingo cards
to 5 for two dollars.  My grandmother usually played about 10 at a time.
Thanks to the new system and the friendly prices, I actually left the fair a
few times with my tummy full and money to burn due to my bingo fortunes.

Now that I have my own two kids to take to the fair, I have big shoes to
fill.  I would be lying if I said they didn't love to sit for an hour or two
and play.  They can't help it - it's genetically woven into the fiber of
their little beings. The problem is, now cards are 6 for five dollars.
Remember we are playing about 18 cards as a family per game...I don't have
that kind of money!!!  Luckily my grandmother does, and she still loves
nothing more than a good day of bingo at the fair. 

So, compliments of Mema, the tradition continues with her great
grandchildren.  Here's a photo of the clan on the opening Saturday.  The
bingo gods were smiling on Mema.  She's the only one who bingo'd the entire
day.

Hunting

I am not a fan. Luckily Chad only hunts seldomly and just birds. I have never really understood the joy in killing an animal for sport, especially something like a dove...I mean seriously, there are probably 15 sitting in my backyard right now, and none of them look delicious. In fact, I bet these are the same dove who just escaped a crappy shot and came back to the city life.

All this being said, years ago Chad said I couldn't understand hunting if I had never tried it. So, off we go quail hunting. I agreed to this under my conditions: 1) we had to shoot only quail, and 2) we had to eat them.  After about an hour of seeing absolutely nothing, Chad is irritated. Isn't this why it is called hunting? You have to "hunt" for them, right?  I guess to a terribly impatient person like Chad, an hour with no fresh blood is no fun.

Well, he finally rustled some quail and gets one! Yea! Half a meal for one of us! Now it is my turn, and I am determined and quite frankly scared of how bloodthirsty I was becoming myself. I hear a rustle in a tree across a dry riverbed and shoot. Nailed it! "Good job Babe," says Chad excitedly.  At this point I think I have a hidden talent and am anticipating some good grub tonight. We cross the riverbed and find my kill...a beautiful red, black, and white woodpecker - all dead from my spot on shooting.  I cried. He laughed. We left and didn't even take the other quail home. Never again.

Feed the Children

Feed the Children

Sometimes I wonder if I am doing it all wrong. Ask anyone who knows me. I don't cook. I don't know how to cook. I don't want to know how to cook. The closest I come to preparing a meal is pinning a recipe on Pinterest because it looks really yummy, not because I plan to make it.  I suppose I am secretly hoping one of my "culinarily inclined" friends will see that I pinned the dish and make it for my family out of pure generosity...or pity for my kids. (Megan, if you are reading this...)

I really admire the moms who put the hot meal out. I especially admire the moms who shop at places like Sprouts to avoid poisoning their beloveds with things like high fructose corn syrup and cow steroids.  Me, I go to Wal Mart. Not only is it cheaper, but it has the kind of pop tarts my kids like. I grew up eating out at a restaurant every night. Furrs was where we went to get our vegetables.  El Sombero was a staple in my childhood diet. I have definitely come by my lack of kitchen skills honestly. (thanks Mom)

In an effort to better my children's diets I do buy lots of fresh fruit. They drink the poisonous milk though, and I am making a vow right now that Lucky Charms will no longer be an option for dinner.  So until I can afford my very own in house cook (remember Mr. Belvedere?), my kids will survive on frozen chicken and canned veggies. They don't eat much anyway.