The birthday boy...

I woke feeling a bit dizzy this morning, attempting to wrap my mind around having two teenagers in the house. (I won't count the one who thinks she is a teenager!) Teenagers? It feels like Shane and I were teenagers a few years ago - so, how are we old enough to have two of our own? It is irony - the passage of time…when you are a kid, Christmases seemed years apart, yet as adult, mere months.

Today, my "little man" turned thirteen. He was a baby last week - big blue eyes locking with mine, happily cooing and smiling. He was a toddler yesterday - flooding the kitchen, lining his toy trucks, and running circles around me. I love the teen that he has become, though. He is courteous and thoughtful, my right-hand-man helper…his comedic faces entertain us. He sings like an angel - I SO wish he would publicly duet with me…maybe he will some day. Pushing tones up from the diaphragm, always in tune - he can belt it out perfectly - the kind that would make Mrs. P proud.

He leaves tomorrow - a week in northern Georgia with the boy scouts. It wasn't long ago that the thought of sleeping outside, amidst the bugs (forget the wild animals, it is the bugs - haha), worried him.  He is my worrier - concerned about the "what next" and "how long" - the logistics of every event. Schedules, not the fluidity of life, are what ground
him. Yet, off he will go. He doesn't consider himself brave, but I see that he is.

My son - my boy-sandwhich, born between two girls, is now a teenager. Happy birthday, Evan - Mom will always love you.

Blinded...

When I was in upper elementary school, the teacher gave us a type of compassion assignment for a half day. Each of us were given something - whether we needed to be in a wheelchair, couldn't talk, couldn't hear, or couldn't see. Already 50% deaf in my left ear, receiving "blind" was a bit disorienting, to say the least. I discovered later that the assignment was meant for the other students to be more compassionate and understanding towards me, the bald kiddo with cancer.

Fast forward to this morning. My eyes were aching and rather dry this morning. This has happened a couple of times in the past and my eye doctor gave me some prescription drops to use. After I drop three balls of the liquid into each eyeball, I am supposed to keep them shut for at least fifteen minutes.

Drop…Drop…in walks my youngest. "Here, Mommy, I brought this for you!" She apparently was holding a bowl of cereal.

I told her that I couldn't open my eyes for a bit and sat up in bed. I asked her to place the bowl in my hands and explained why…she proceed to tell me the color of the bowl, type of cereal, and how all the smaller spoons were dirty, so it was a big spoon. (I didn't ask her anything, but she volunteered the information.) As I was eating, we were talking and I was reminded of that assignment from years ago.

Eating a bowl of cereal when you can't see it…really, not that difficult, although I did find myself holding the bowl under my chin between each bite. When I thought it was empty, I sat it down next to me as we talked a bit. After about fifteen minutes, I moved my hand to the side and knocked the bowl over. Instinctively opening my eyes, I saw that milk was spilled on the bed. Ugh. I didn't sip it dry!

Maybe it is because I rely so heavily on sight to compensate for loss of hearing (pretty much deaf now in the left ear…sporting my hearing aid…not enough loss to warrant the cost of one for the right ear yet), but not being able to see to read people's lips or take in the colors and contours around me? I honestly can't imagine. Even if I could hear perfectly, I couldn't.

I have a great aunt who has macular degeneration. According to the American Macular Degeneration Foundation, "Macular degeneration is caused by the deterioration of the central part of the retina, the inside back layer of the eye that records the images we see and send them via the optic nerve from the eye to the brain. The retina's central portion, known as the macula, is responsible for focusing central vision in the eye, and it controls our ability to read, drive a car, recognize faces or colors, and see objects in fine detail."*

My great aunt receives intraocular shots (needle into the eyeball) that do help, but there is no cure. The last time I visited her house, she showed me this magnifying devise that makes the letters on the keyboard HUGE. She is a spitfire, a full of spunk lady that doesn't allow her diagnosis or deteriorating condition affect her life (other than the obvious constraints). You wouldn't even notice that her vision is impaired, when sitting in her comfy living room, chatting! But, then again, she has always been an amazing woman. She was a nurse in the school system and began a shoe fund, which still puts on yearly fundraising spaghetti dinners. She was one of Bush senior's 100 points of light award recipients! So, it shouldn't be surprising that she would take loss of sight in stride.  When I have permission to use her name, I will edit and name this incredible lady. (Meant to do this weeks ago - but the name of that lovely aunt is Esther Ryan!)

Now that this blog has morphed into another subject…I will sign off! Happy Tuesday to you all!

Had entirely too much fun with this app!

*  https://www.macular.org/what-macular-degeneration

Double Standards…

I haven't brought politics into this blog... and this isn't intended to be political, per say, but here it goes…

Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and all other social media users - I get it! You are upset about the double standards in our society. Trending latest - Why Rosanne was cancelled after a twitter, but the same network hasn't cancelled The View? Each week, something new sprouts up and the glaring double standards stir the social media feeds.

But here is the thing - there have always been double standards in our country - this is nothing new! From the moment the pilgrims and puritans stepped off their boats, there were clear double standards. Whether it be man/woman, fat/thin, white/color, immigrant/native, republican/democrat, rich/poor, religion/religion, etc. - double standards!

Double standards remind me of a Bible verse - very loosely translated: Why do you see the speck in someone else's eye, but not notice the log in in your own eye? Isn't that also the definition of a hypocrite, though? When you have/practice a double standard, it is a type of hypocrisy. The encyclopedia definition of the word means: the practice of claiming to have a moral standard or belief,  but not conforming to the same. Hmm…

Since Rosanne is the latest, let's talk about racist comments - If you morally believe that racism is wrong…then it should be wrong across the board, correct? (To be clear, I do believe it is wrong.) However, if you ignore a racist comment from someone you normally agree with, yet make a public outcry when the same is said or done from someone you don't normally agree with, isn't that hypocrisy? Is it not also a double standard?

The speck and the log…we see, or don't see, what best fits our beliefs and opinions of the world around us. All too often, we overlook or ignore the faults of one person, yet microscopically dissect and announce the SAME faults in another. Unless you are a saint, those are the facts.

So, what do we do, assuming we want to change something? Let's face it, posting and sharing indignant comments on social media accomplishes nothing more than fueling those who believe the same and ruffling the feathers of those who don't. There is the civic way - to write a congressman or vote against or for something that promotes a double standard. (Although, this may not give the satisfaction of 50 "likes" and 20 "shares" that feeds self esteem. :O) How about an inward searching of the heart? What do I do or say that is a double standard, a form of hypocrisy? Do I allow my thoughts on color, gender, appearance, political alignments, religion, etc. to cloud my judgement of an individual? Do I factor that in when forming an opinion?

For parents - this gets passed along, from one generation to the next…a form of heredity. Your kids absorb the comments that you make, whether verbal or with body language. When you make a derogatory comment about one person, they also may assume this should be applied to all people like them! It creates the "ALL" way of thinking - all Christians are…all people of color are…all men are…all, all, all. It creates the stereotypes and mindset to judge by that grouping and forget that each person is different and individual…and it feeds into creating another generation of double standards and hypocrisy.

Off the soapbox and onto the sunset…have a wonderful weekend!

The sunset last night was purple! (No, that isn't my finger print on the lens, it is apparently how the camera processes a screen! haha)

On Memorial Day...

Today is Memorial Day - the day we recognize and thank those men and women who have fought to protect our nation and freedom, and have now since passed.

Someone  yesterday made mention that we should be careful about who and how we say "Happy Memorial Day"…because, for some, it is the day that they are reminded of a great loss. For the widows or widowers, mothers and fathers, siblings, children, and friends whose loved ones never returned from war, it isn't a happy one. For them, it isn't merely a day off work and a Monday when the mail isn't delivered…it isn't a great time to shop the Memorial Day sales or BBQ out with friends and family. It is a sobering thought, isn't it?

Honestly, I am unsure what word to use, replacing the "happy" that we place before most every holiday. Maybe have an honoring Memorial Day? Have a thankful Memorial Day? Have a respectful Memorial Day? I suppose any of those would work - being we are honoring those who have died; we are thankful for those who put their lives in crosshairs of triggers; we hold great respect for those who gave their lives so we could enjoy this day! "Freedom isn't free" sounds very cliche, but it is so true.

So, if you know someone who has lost a loved one, family member, or friend who bravely sacrificed their life in the face of battle, then thank them - give that widow or widower a hug, that mother or father a hand shake, that child or sibling a pat on the back - tell them that you recognize their loss and how much you are thankful and respect those who have made the ultimate sacrifice for our freedom!

Road trips with children...

My husband and I have always pledged, "We will never get a mini-van!" Even when we added number three, we found a solution to avoid becoming the stereotypical mini-van parents - third row seating SUV, enough to accommodate two adults and three children in car seats!

After all three were free of those restraints, my husband traded it in for his dream vehicle, the Jeep - aka, the tank. For short trips around town, the situation is acceptable, but for road trips? The trio crammed into the back seat, three adorable sardines, adorned with blankets, pillows, backpacks, and toys... For eleven hours, each way, trip completed twice a year, it is less than ideal!

Hour one - settling in...the excitement of the destination, engaged in games or books...music and conversation in the front seat, mostly bliss. Hour two - still ok, some restlessness, inevitably someone has to use the restroom...we stop. Hour three - 4, somewhat like first two, but the wiggles begin. Hour five- 6, wiggling becomes "scoot over!" "She's on my side!" "Isn't it my turn to play the (insert newest gaming device)?" The question that no road trip can ever avoid - "Are we there yet?!" Ahhhhh
It is still at least 4-5 hours to go. The knowing that the question will be asked no less than 30 times, the arguments, more frequent pee stops, ready to pop out the windows..."Are we there yet?!"

Rewind time around 30 (cough) years - a scene similar to the above, with the blankets and pillows, books and toys, two kids ride the ten or so hours to Grandma's house. There were just two of us - me and my younger brother, AND we were in a Bonneville! Still, the arguments would ensue over whose space ended where and the "Are we there yet?" drove our parents insane! Two kids, a larger back seat, for less hours…getting the picture?

After our white-knuckled, down back roads, trip home from NC in January - snow and ice in places that never saw either, let alone had the capacity to salt or clear them; we have re-thought the road trip. Soon, we will have two teenagers and a 9 year old, the eldest being as tall as I am and the middle soon-to-be. To save our nerves and brain cells, we are reverting to renting a mini-van for all future trips!

From a LONG time ago - but our favorite way that they travel - asleep!

The pretentious lanai...

I have mentioned our "pretentious lanai" more than a few times in my blog. I call it this because I had never heard the term "lanai" until searching for a new home in Florida. "Oh, it has a lovely lanai," was something I simply could not appreciate. Finally, I asked.

What I grew up calling a back porch or patio - that is what a lanai is. Mind you - porches can be on the front or the back of a home, as can patios, although they are usually more back. A lanai refers to a back porch or patio with a roof. Apparently, the term originated in Hawaii and Florida adopted it. Basically - if it has concrete, a roof, and is located in the back of a home, it is a lanai.

Ok, so the word "lanai" does sound Hawaiian, but in Florida, it just sounds pretentious to me. "Oh, what a lovely lanai you have," spoken in the snoodiest of accents. Our's being screened in makes it all the more pretentious - "Isn't our screened-in lanai marvelous?"Yet, it comes up in many blogs, due to the fact that I love to sit in my pretentious lanai and write, teach homeschool, watch wildlife, and the likes.

Recently, we added a roof to floor curtain on one side of the lanai. As the spring turns to summer, more and more of it would be flooded with sunlight and, therefore, heat. Adding the curtains cuts the outside temperature quite a bit and negates the need for sunscreen. (Also, it adds privacy, which is nice.) With the outdoor couch my husband added, it has become my favorite room in the house, or…hmm, my favorite room on the property? The overhead fan blowing and breeze from the lake, the curtains blocking heat and harmful rays, and a comfortable couch facing the water and wildlife - why wouldn't it be my favorite?! :)

Graveyard of love bugs...

It is May in Florida -the month where love bugs emerge from the bladed recesses of grass and weeds and wreak havoc on vehicle paint and walkways. If you aren't familiar with love bugs, the males are smaller than the females. When they take flight, they literally attach themselves to one another and are stuck this way until the male dies and the female lands to lay the eggs. First flight, breed, die - the life cycle of a love bug!

Every year, we scrape the guts of deceased off the paint and windshield of the car - this is nothing new…but this year, they have been bombing our front door. No less than two-hundred of the discarded males litter our front walkway and there are consistently at least twenty that are still paired in the entrance. Think conjoined birds, attached in opposing directions, trying to fly - yep, they don't get very far or fast! They just hover, moving sporadically, bumping into things and clinging to screens.

This is after many were already swept away…welcome, to the love bug morgue!

How do you say "Pecan?"...

Although I spent the majority of my childhood south of the Mason Dixon line, I was born in Ohio and raised by two (wonderful) parents who had lived in Ohio and Michigan all of their lives. In a home with predominantly northern accents and verbiage, more of that "stuck" than the environment around me. I suppose if I had friends who picked on my more northern accent or words, I may have developed the middle Tennessee "drawl" more, but that wasn't the case.

Pronunciations and word selection, not to mention accents, are very different - not just in the north or south, but all of America. Take the word, Pecan…I have heard it said three different ways, my pronunciation of the word varies between two of these: Pick-AHN and Pee-KAHN…as my favorite pie, I will call it whatever the baker would like! The third is PEE- can. Apparently, Pee-KAHN is the nationwide dominant pronunciation. PEE-can is popular up the East Coast and New England. It is Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, and Oklahoma were the pick-AHN is used - this is odd, because neither of my parents or family are from these states, yet they use pick-AHN!

That brings me to my son's pronunciation of the word syrup. Almost the entire United States pronounces it as Sir-up. Only parts of Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and New York areas use Sear-up. Despite the fact that no one in his immediate and extended family pronounce it that way, he says Sear-up. So why is that? And why do I say pecan differently? Who knows!

The reference of carbonated beverages also varies. A teacher of my son's did a FaceBook poll on what it is called and where the person was from. Over one hundred responses and all but two fit the "mold." The term "soda" is used in the Southwest, New England, FL, Georgia, the Carolinas, the Virginias, PA, and Missouri; "pop" in the north - coast to coast, minus New England; and "coke" in Southern Texas through Tennessee, with the states south of these. After we moved from Ohio to Tennessee, my dad once ordered a coke (assuming the brand - "Do you have coke?" "Yes," "Ok, I will have a coke."), but received a Pepsi. It was then that we learned that anything that is dark and carbonated is called a coke!

How do you express to someone that you would like to help relocate them from one position to another? Do you "take them to the store," "bring them to the store," or "carry them to the store?" Or how about working the lights - Do you "turn the lights on," "flip the lights on," or "cut the lights on?" The last of both of those was a North Carolina thing that we adjusted to, after moving there. You carry people to the store and you cut the lights on…odd - because you aren't physically carrying anything and cutting the lights usually goes with off, not on…anyway!

So - how do you say "Pecan?"

All zapped out….

Ah, the good old MacBook Pro…My husband got it over ten years ago. In his line of business (Computer networking, engineering, cloud, etc.), he has to update to something newer every few years. So, it became mine! Mac and I have done a lot of writing, blogging, bill paying, and research together. Although the bottom of the screen now glows (no clue why) and various marks and dents litter its surface, Mac has been ever-faithful, always getting the job done.

However, of late, Mac is getting cranky, shocking me…literally! If you have ever drug your feet across carpet, then touched something metal - it is that kind of sparked shock. Ouch! Perhaps, in his old age, he is becoming picky about how he is touched. He is becoming the elderly widower, living in the scary old house that kids are afraid to near, for fear of being eaten…or, in this case, zapped!

Using Florida Virtual for some of the middle school classes, however, requires being on a computer…which is usually mine. So, I ordered another laptop - it is a Levono  - microsoft and does what needs to, in regards to accessing excel, word, and the internet. No worries of being zapped for the kids, but I still prefer old Mac, despite the zaps. Maybe it is the keyboard layout or the less touchy mouse, but I just am not ready to retire this old Mac!

Then again, I am apple biased. After I was diagnosed with leukemia, at ten years old, the Make A Wish foundation sent a couple of representatives to the hospital. They told us all about the organization and asked what wish I wanted to make. Honestly, I had NO idea! I didn't want to meet a celebrity - my prednisone chipmunk cheeks, balding hair, and general feeling of sickness put a crimp in that idea. I was too young to drive. I had already been to Disneyland and Disney World. So - the top three that kids generally ask for - celebrities, vehicles, and vacations - were off my list.

Ever practical, even at ten, I wanted something that would last - something that would benefit more than just me, but my whole family. What did I eventually select (and even though I am officially dating myself with this comment) in the summer of 1988? An apple computer - a 2Gs, to be specific! For anyone born before 1985, you might remember that most people did not own computers in their homes.  We were the first in the neighborhood, that is for sure!

Apple didn't merely send the screen and hard drive of a 2Gs, though. They sent those and a color printer, mouse, joystick, and games, as well! To say they went all out would be an understatement. Showering me with a massive dose of love and encouragement, I was all smiles for weeks. (Ok, not when I had a bone marrow biopsy or spinal tap, but otherwise - smiles!)

Needless to say, Apple gained a fan. However, for a while there, when microsoft had the cheaper laptops, I was a customer. Let's face it, Apple did have some down time before the iPhone, iPad, iPods, ieverythings - but they got back into the game! Ouch! Zap! Calm down Mac, it's just a blog! :)

"Some assembly required," or not...

Another geek peek here - I love to build things! My mother's father was a carpenter/builder and my mom's brother is still…amazing works of beauty, sketched-glass laced together with intricate woodwork and stone. Maybe it is in my genes, but I love to build!

I ordered a six-drawer tall/narrow dresser last weekend. The high ratings and perfect size, with "some assembly required" - I was sold. It arrived yesterday in a very tall and heavy box - way too narrow for anything to already be assembled. Hm. Apparently "some assembly required" means that I didn't have to measure and cut the wood, or drill little holes in various parts of the planks. I enjoy a challenge and was armed with screwdrivers and a hammer, so I read the directions. It was 6 pages of pictures, all incredibly vague with nothing labeled…but, neither was any of the wood or hardware! Going by hole positions, shapes of wheels, and sizes of screws, I began. 

If the pieces had been labeled and a FEW words of explanation offered, It would have shaved a good hour off the process. Two hours, a pinch bruise on the left pinky, blisters on the thumb, and a lacerated pointer finger later, it was complete. It turned out great and I really love it, but I must say two things. One - "some assembly required" isn't accurate. It should have read, "All assembly required, but don't worry - we cut the wood and have all the hardware. Labeling is absent and directions are vague, but you can do it!" 

Two - the builder and klutz genes collide into a physical oxymoron. Inserting a large zinc cam into a wooden hole shouldn't be an accident waiting to happen…but a misplaced pinky finger in the push? Yep.  Additional injuries, klutz related and occurring during the build - a toe was stubbed on a plank and ankle bruised; however, that is just me…walking around the labyrinth of wood and hardware! It is a recipe for disaster when the klutz picks up a hammer and nails! :)

Not the best picture - but, walah! :)

Check out the webpage of my Uncle Don, mentioned above - amazing construction!

The Kitten Shower...

So, we went to a kitten shower a few days ago and it was amazing. We got to hold kittens and learned about a lot. It was so much fun! I can't wait for the next time, but let's talk about what we learned at the kitten shower. We learned a lot, as you know How to take care of a kitten and all the things they need, which is a LOT! I named one destiny with a blackish grayish coat. I loved that kitten! haha It would mew when it was away from me and it would relax if it was near me. Oh, and did i not tell you, I'm the youngest daughter of the blogger you read, who makes these blogs so well! Well, I'm gonna let the real blogger take over! haha!

Thank you, Anie, for your narration of the kitten shower! She snuck onto my laptop while I was away! ;)

With "Destiny" - 2 weeks old and eyes still are shut!

Were you aware that baby kittens are more needy than infant humans? With my three, I was able to enjoy 3-4 hour stretches of sleep, but kittens? Nope! Twenty-four hours a day, every two hours, begins the cycle of bottle feeding and bathroom time. Litter number determines whether this is a 20 minute thing or over an hour! I had no idea that kittens aren't able to use the bathroom on their own. Mother cats lick the baby's genitals to stimulate the nerves and muscles to urinate and defecate (pee and poop, folks, pee and poop!) So, caregivers to the baby kittens have to do the same; clarification - with a warm, moist tissue! :O Then, they have to be cleaned up afterward. Baby kittens also need specific temperature of warmth and cuddling, as well as extra medical care without the antibodies of their mother's milk. They are prone to digestive issues, respiratory infections, eye infections, etc..

So - why the kitten shower? The local animal shelter hosted a "kitten shower" for the public - open to anyone interested in fostering, adopting, or just curious about kitten care. My aspiring vet girls wanted the education, but also the kitten fix. :) During the class, two litters of kittens were brought into the shelter. The ones my kids were holding (and me, of course) were about 2 weeks old, a litter of five: two mostly black, two gray, and one black and white. The other litter was just shy of a week old, long umbilical cords still attached - a trio a calicos. So - eight cats in less than 2 hours, with twenty-three brought in the day before!!

Kittens apparently do not fare well in shelters - between the germs and the needs, ones without mothers need a foster home until they are old enough to be adopted (around 2 months or 2 lbs, when they can be "altered," aka, spay/neutered). Ones with more serious health issues generally go home with vets, techs, and shelter staff. With cats, there are three types of fosters: 1. Mother and kittens - this is the easiest route and great for first timers. The momma cat takes care of the kittens and the foster's main concern is caring for the momma (food, water, litter, etc.). 2. Weaned kittens - these are generally over one pound and about a month old. They don't need the care every couple of hours like the neonatal ones do. 3. Neonatal kittens, aka baby kittens - these are the ones described above - needing help with everything and the fosters full attention every couple of hours.

So - now that's all of that is out of the way (and if you are still reading and interested), a few more basics of fostering. 1. Limited to no cost to you - shelters pay for all vet bills, medicines, food, formula, etc. They do ask that you bring them in to be checked once a week, something that takes less than twenty minutes. 2. Fosters need to be kept away from all other pets - this means that a spare bathroom, laundry room, etc. are great places to keep them. It is for all the animals protection, as you wouldn't want your precious pets sick from something they might have or the babies from, well, everything that healthy animals have! 3. Shelters are more than ok with take-backs and foster failures. Take-backs are when a foster comes home and realizes they just can't do it - this happens and shelters are ready for it. They are just grateful that the kittens had a day or two of not being in the shelter, exposed! Foster failures are when fosters just don't want to say goodbye to their balls of furry cuteness and end up adopting instead. Again, shelters are very understanding and appreciative!

Before Saturday, my exhaustive understanding, if we shall call it that, was that fostering baby kittens required bottle feedings, personal time, and are for a duration of around a couple of weeks or months. All of this is true, but I was clueless to the facts that can't pee or poop on their own, how poorly they thrive in shelters, and the extent of need for foster families!

This little guy would only eat and pee for Ab!

Evan getting his snuggles in

** NOTE: If you find a litter of stray kittens without a momma nearby, do NOT take the kittens. Watch and see when the momma comes back. Momma cats are like us human mommas - sometimes we just need a break or a snack! Rarely do the mother cats actually abandon their litters. However, bringing in the mother AND her kittens to a shelter is a great idea!

Yes, of course I got my furry fix, too!!

A funny "who's on first" type moment, from when this picture was taken. (Who's on first, what's on second, and I don't know is on third - Abbott and Costello comedy routine)

Evan: Ohhh, mommy, he's asleep!

Me: His eyes haven't opened yet.

Evan: I know, he's sleeping!

Me: No, his eyes haven't opened yet, Evan.

Evan: I know, it's so cute, he's sleeping.

Me: (Sigh) No, his eyes haven't EVER opened yet, he's only about 2 weeks old and baby kittens don't open their eyes until they are older than that.

Evan: Ooooohhhhhhhhhh.

He must have been gazing longingly at the donuts when the vet mentioned that part. ;)

"Shhhhhh - Daddy's working!"...

There are wonderful aspects of having a husband who works from home - no lost time driving to/from work, enjoying impromptu lunches on the lanai, no need to find a sitter for a sick kiddo, etc. The list is vast. However, when homeschooling three children, the quiet blocks of time are, well, limited! Much of each day, it doesn't impact our lives; but when phone/video meetings are scheduled, it does.

"SHHHHH - Daddy is working!!!"
That phrase is uttered no less than five times a day, sometimes upward of thirty…like today.

It all began with my son letting the cat, Sassafras, out onto our pretentious lanai without checking for anoles. "Mom, Sassafras has an anole in her mouth."

I thought he was messing with me, so I ignored the comment until rounding the corner to see just that. Sigh. Outside we go. She dropped the anole for a second before chasing it again, us on her heels. Evan left the door open, so when we grabbed the cat, the anole escaped into the house. If you have ever tried to catch an anole - it is a very tricky exercise, often involving a bowl and at least three people! This time, I just let Sassafras do the work. (Remember, this is during one of those "I need it to be quiet" work calls and Anie's squeals were more than enough to invoke a "be quiet!")
I picked up Sassafras, poor anole in mouth, and we went back outside, where I had her drop it. Toting her back in, I tell Evan to pick up the anole and put it outside. Um…I think he would have rather picked up a spider…or a bear cub. :O So, out I go and AGAIN, he doesn't shut the door…so, out runs the cat. Let the cycle begin again!

Eventually, I had Sassafras on the inside and the anole into the grass. Amazingly, the cat's play and bite was soft enough for him to run away quickly - anoles are pretty resilient. :)

To anyone unfamiliar with anoles - here is a little one! (Think gecko, but smaller)

Flooding the kitchen...

As a continuation of the previous post, my son did stay true to his gender, but not in such a gag-inducing way.  (See "Painting with Poop" for that one.) After coming home from a playdate, I put on one of the kids favorite shows and ran upstairs to change my clothes. Apparently, a toddler can do an incredible amount of damage in a 7-10 minute window of time. When I stepped into the kitchen, my feet felt it - the wet. I looked to my left, where only my daughter still sat on the couch, eyes glued to the animated entertainment that I so wrongly assumed would keep them both occupied. Looking to the right, I saw him, a bowl in his hands, frozen like a statue in front of the fridge. At his feet was the kids' toilet chair insert, already overflowing with water. 

"What are you doing?!"

"Ummmmm. Don't ask me dat!" Mr. cute furrowed forehead tells me.

"Why is the floor all wet?" (Mind you, I was at least 6 feet away from him.) "Cause I made it," he said, proudly.

"Why in the world would you want to make the floor wet?!" I am trying to remain calm…poorly.

"Cause I going swimming!!" He is so proud. (I Sigh.) "See, I get water here, den I put water dare, den I make a pool!"

Yes, he got water out of the fridge via a bowl, then dumped it into the toilet insert, and, once full, onto the floor. I later found out that desk was also wet and puzzle pieces were floating in the drawers! At least the mess was made entirely from water…unless there was something in the toilet bowl insert before he started…oh dear!

Painting with poop….

My mom once told me, “Cleaning your house with kids playing is like trying to brush your teeth while eating an oreo cookie.” The “pre-kiddos” me was borderline OCD - anything other than perfectly straightened and clean was heart chaos. After my first was born, I was able to maintain that semblance of peace and tidy, but, nineteen months later, that all went sideways. Adding number two meant a lot more, well, number two! My only means of sanity was learning how to ignore the clutter and letting go of my ideal household. Still, there are those huge messes - the broadsiding “this is going to take hours to clean up” types - that can really get to us. These are the embraceable disarray.

It is said that boys make bigger and more disgusting messes than girls, but in our family, it isn't my son that has caused the most chaotic upheaval, but my daughters that do! For instance, my artist. When she was a little less than two years of age, one of her masterpieces stunk…literally. After waking early from a morning nap, she was suspiciously quiet, but happy - so I continued cleaning my bathroom, instead of going in to check on her. Bad move! She had climbed out of her crib and decided to add to the artwork already in the room. Using the dark clumps her digestive track had created after waking, she proceeded to scoop out pieces and use them as brown finger paints - coloring pictures on the walls, furniture, and some toys. Imagine my amazement when I opened her door! First, I was greeted by the lovely aroma accompanying such creative artistry. Then, her happy face and "'ook, momma! I 'ainted deese!" If she hadn't have been so cute and proud of herself, I may have had a major meltdown right then and there. Embracing the disarray, I praised her handy work before explaining that we don’t use poop as paint!

A more graceful use of paint, albeit still messy, from 12 years ago!

Playing games with Sandhill Cranes….

Here in Florida, we have a wide variety of large birds. My personal favorite is the Sandhill Crane - large, light brown body with a long neck, topped by a small head, red colored capping, and long beak. Although they walk like the 80s "King Tut" dance, they truly are graceful. Each spring, a tiny, orange puffball or two are often spotted, awkwardly following around their  tall parents. It is amazing how much personality is packed into their tiny brains - curiosity, their social nature, the way the tilt their heads while listening... Even though we have never fed them, our pair, lovingly named Bernard and Bernice, strut around for a "talk," gracing us with their presence while we sit on our pretentiously named lanai.

One day (clearly we were bored…or just facetious), we opted to find a video of Sandhill Cranes mating. Playing it on my phone, Bernard became all flustered, making the Raptor like call-back sounds to the unseen cranes. He urged Bernice along (who I swear had a "seriously, Bernard, you aren't falling for this?!" look on her face) and then went looking for the invisible others. I suppose that was more of the start of the story than the end, though. It was after having our little fun that the pair became frequent visitors.

Sassafras, our cat, is especially intrigued by the pair, which tower over her in height. She likes watching them…and Bernard, well, he likes watching Sassafras, as well. He will slowly creep closer and closer to the screen, listening to Sassafras's little squeaks and gurgling responses. (Again, Bernice stays far removed, watching Bernard like he has lost his mind, occasionally turning away from him completely - her stance against his insanity!) The first time Bernard and Sassafras met, I thought he would try to poke his beak through the screen (or Sassafras would jump up and tear it) - nope. He will put his beak downward and push in a bit, gurgling all the while…until the cat-like instinctual need to jump up a bit occurs and he flutters back a few steps…and does it all again. It is entirely too entertaining to watch, nature channel in real time.

Bernard approaching Sassafras - let the games begin!