Another Reason Shopping at Wal-Mart Might Be Hazardous to Your Health

And, no, it doesn't involve things Made in China! Although, these days, that's a big enough reason. As of today, 54,000 children, the only child to their parents, have been affected by the tainted formula and other dairy products. That's a travesty of the most outrageous proportions.
I truly hope that things will indeed change after this, but we're dealing with a Communist Regime, and truthfully, I'm not convinced that anything will.
Ok, enough of my soap box rantings,now on to my story. This past Sunday I needed to do some shopping for household products, one of which, was salt for our water softener.
Hubby decided to see if they still had it stocked outside in the Lawn and Garden section. That way, he wouldn't have to push a heavy cart all over the store. We saw that they did have some outside and proceeded inside to shop.
After all the shopping, we miraculously remembered to have the checker ring up the bags of salt we hadn't yet picked up. Because at this point, that was the thing I was most concerned about.
Hubby pushed the cart over to the salt, and I went to drive the van over.
When I got out, Hubby was studying the receipt and realized that the checker had rung up the more expensive salt. What the difference is, I have no idea.
After looking at the receipt myself, he tells me to go ahead and start taking the bags around to the other door while he loads the salt into the trunk. I take a couple bags around and start back. When I'm at the back of the van, Hubby asks, "Did you see what you stepped on?"
I look down at my boot and the ground, thinking I had stepped in gum and somehow didn't know it.
Not seeing anything, I look up and ask, "Was it gum?"
Hubby says, "Ummm, no, not exactly."
"What then?"
I follow his line of sight and immediately start shuddering.
There next to the cart, where I was just glancing at the receipt, lay a baby snake, and not just any old garter snake, but a copper head! Yikes!
All I could do was shudder uncontrollably and keep asking if he was dead or not, while intently staring at him. And, yes, he was dead, mouth wide open.
Apparently, I stepped on him and didn't know. Fortunately, I had my boots on and not my usual flip flops or Crocs.
This little darling was only 8 or 9 inches long, but I'm sure his bite would've still packed a punch.
Not to mention, if there's a baby, mama and daddy are probably close by. As in, probably in those piles of salt that Hubby was just in the middle of.
Needless to say, the next time we need salt, I'm thinking that I'll be working on my arm muscles and pushing that heavy cart.

It might be clean

Last night we put our oven on auto clean.
Ok, "we" didn't, but T did.
His Daddy asked him to turn the timer off, his Sister was using it to time her flute practice, but when Hubby checked on the situation, he found that T had turned the auto clean on, instead.
Oops!
Well, Lord knows our oven needed cleaning.
So, no harm done, right?!
Umm, that would be a big neg-a-tive.
I thought the worst part was having to smell "something burning", right before we went to bed.
But the worst part, happened this morning when I went to check how clean the oven got, because I have serious doubts that it will be clean.
I pulled on the door, only to discover, it was still locked!
Oh no! Now what?!
My oven might be clean, but I have no way of knowing nor a way to use it.
I guess we'll be having take out tonight!

Oh how he loves me!

Have I told you lately how much I love my Hubby and how much he loves me?
Well, I do and he does.
He shows his love in various and creative ways.
I truly love this about him.
Not only does he bring home the occasional "just because" bouquet of flowers, but he, also, does things like research great spas in town. Then goes to that spa and books an appointment for me for that very evening. And he, not only, pays for that visit, but an additional one for in the future, aka, when I'm having one of those days with the boys.
He loves me, no?!
So, it shouldn't surprise me that when we're talking the other day, he asks if I'd like a massage that evening. Because, he not only loves me, he knows me!
"Of course, Honey, I'd love one."
"Great, because Mike's wife, the guy who works for him, is a masseuse, and she's getting out of the business. So, I got a great deal on some of her stuff."
Stuff like, Hungarian.Moor.Mud. Ringing any bells?!
"Great, Honey, that sounds wonderful."
Fast forward a few hours and Hubby comes home carrying a large box and wearing a huge smile. He excitedly unloads the box, showing me different Chocolate Scented Massage Oils and a large plastic tub of Mud.
Now mind you, I think getting smeared with mud and wrapped in plastic does sound a bit extravagant and enticing, but I'm just a little concerned about how all that is going to go down at Chez Triplett's. Honestly, my Hubby isn't the neatest person on Earth. And I begin having visions of major clean up efforts after this takes place, and maybe even having to sacrifice a set of sheets.
I'm just a wee bit anxious.
Now, at the moment, Hubby is anxious to see just what this mud looks like. He rips off the plastic strip and tears off the top.
And guess what?
It looks and smells just like mud! It's dark blackish/brown and has a strong mud odor. I guess this is where the scented oil comes in.
He quickly replaces the lid and carries it down the hall to our bathroom.
What I hear next, brings back to mind those visions of major clean up, except I haven't gotten to experience the mud, yet.
"Honey, do we have any carpet cleaner?"
"Huh?"
"Well, I didn't notice until I got to the bathroom, but the bucket was dripping."
"Do what?! You mean the bucket dripped in the living room?"
"Yep, and all down the hall."
"OK, well, if we have any carpet cleaner, it's under the kitchen sink."
Now I'm trying to control my breathing and think positive thoughts. No big deal, what's a little mud? Right?
After a few minutes, he inquires, "Do we have any more? Because this isn't budging it."
"Ummm, no, I don't believe we do. Did you try Oxi-Clean? That usually works pretty well."
My thoughts quickly turn to anxious prayers along the lines of "Dear Lord, please let the Oxi-Clean work. I really don't want to go to jail for choking my Hubby."
"No, where is it?"
I tell him its' location, and he responds a few minutes later, "Nope, that didn't work either. How would you feel if I dyed the carpet black?"
Needless to say, that wasn't in my decorating visions for our house.
For now, my "white" carpet has leopard spots all down the hallway. Maybe leopard print carpet will come into style.
And the Hubby? He's still alive and breathing. I really do love him.
But, I'm secretly hoping he doesn't have any more grandiose ideas about how to show me his love, at least for a little while.

Lessons Recently Learned

No matter how much fun it appears to be, 5 yr old boys should not “hang” from their Mommy’s back windshield wiper. It will not hold them, even if said 5 yr old is a stick boy. And when that Mommy, unknowingly, turns that wiper on, it will do strange things and make even stranger noises.

Spiderman forks that are greatly loved by a certain 3 yr old boy are not greatly loved by my microwave. And said boy will not be happy when he has to throw his new fork away.

The locking soap dispenser on the dishwasher locks for a reason. Do not attempt to use the dishwasher without locking it. Your dishes will not be sparkling clean and just might have blue soap spots all over them, if you do. 3 yr old boys really like to “help” their Mommies.

Hungarian Moor Mud does not “go” with off white patterned Berber carpet nor does it come off of said carpet. This needs a whole post all its’ own.

When spraying Hornet spray into a can light on your back deck/porch beware, because a bat just might come out. And a man, who appears to be the epitome of manliness, just might jump 2 feet off the ground and run around screaming like a girl, not that my Hubby would do such a thing.

Even if my purse appears to be a good drink holder, with its’ large size, shape, and open top, it’s not! However, it will hold approximately 4 ½ ounces of lemonade without losing a drop! Note to my MIL and SIL, put the phone down. Do not make that call to the Coach abusers hot line. They will not grant you foster care of said purse. Sorry! And, no, I was not the one who decided to use it as a drink holder, that Hubby shall remain nameless. I do believe that this incident should entitle me to a new purse for Christmas.

When 3 yr old boys squeeze out ¾ ths of a tube of Ben-Gay and use it to cover both sides of their hands, both feet, a leg, and smear the rest all over your bathroom floor, your bathroom will smell minty fresh for several days, your sinuses will be cleared out, and you will have all kinds of fun cleaning both up.

3 yr old boys, who only moments before opening the 'frig, wanted soup, will no longer want soup when they spy a package of Nestle Toll House Chocolate Chip cookies. And you may have a hard time prying that package out of their hands.

A 3 yr old boy who sees a pair of Cars house shoes and Cars Crocs in a shoe store, will want to try them on and will not want to take them off. And you may find yourself using a bear hug hold on him while your Hubby pulls the shoes off his feet. People in the store just might stare at you and cover their ears, while he screams.

Golder Retrievers are capable of shedding 2 times their body weight in fur each week and in fact, do. After cleaning up that fur, you could fully fur, say that 3 times fast, all number of furless varieties with it. And when you deal with this much "log" hair, as T calls it, you will find yourself trying to find a way to capitalize on it.

Note: I'm bummed I can't figure out why my italics feature isn't working right. Waaahh!! It's not the same without it. Kind of like talking isn't the same without using your hands.

May I Make A Suggestion?

On those days you find yourself needing a hit of chocolate, but don't have the time to make, or don't need, a whole pan of brownies, might I suggest keeping a supply of Betty Crocker Warm Delights Minis, Molten Chocolate Cake, on hand?
They're surprisingly easy to make and quite tasty.
Plus, they're only 150 calories, and if you should feel the need/have to share some with a child or two, you can have all the pleasure with a lot less guilt.
That's the beauty of having children.
All those nutritional guidelines about caloric count?
Cut them in half, or in my case, fourths!
Which begs me to ask the question, then why am I so much bigger now than before I had children? I guess it's one of those mysteries of the universe we're not meant to understand.
Oh, and if you're a little OC about collecting Box Tops for school, like someone I know, I won't mention any names. It's to protect the innocent, or is it the guilty? But, if you know someone like that, these have one of those, too.
So, I'm really eating to support the school system.
Yeah, that’s it.

Sorry!

Let me apologize for my absence. I had NO intention of being gone so long.
At first, it involved a technical difficulty. I had planned to post C's first day of Kindergarten pictures on his first day, but seeing as how I'm still shooting film and our only 1 hour photo lab was down, that did not happen.
So, I asked Hubby if he'd kindly take the film to town the next day and get it developed there. He willing agreed, but his schedule, not so much.
Then, a few days later when I finally remembered them again, I returned to our 1 hour photo lab only to find out it was still down.
What?!
Really, how long does it take?!
I guess here in podunk town, a very long time.
All of that to say, I still haven't gotten those pictures developed. I figure, at this rate, I might have them done by the time he goes to Jr High.
I can hope.
So, that's how it started. Then, as I fed my blogging addiction, I got a little insecure. I know I don't write near as eloquently and thought provokingly(if that's even a word) as a whole lot of bloggers I read. And, I figured, what the hay.
Yeah, I have a little OCD in me, and I'm a little bit , ok a whole lot, competitive. If I can't be the best, why bother?!
And I stopped writing.
Basically, giving up.
That's my HUGE downfall. I know I need to be persistent, but I'm Queen of the Do Overs. Have been all my life. I believe it has something to do with being first born and all.
Now, at 37 years young, I'm trying to overcome it. I'm getting back on the horse and pressing onward.
I'll continue to write and post, if for nothing else, my sanity or lack there of. Because one day, my kids will be able to read these and know why their Mother is sitting in a padded room, banging her head against the wall, and drooling all over herself.
For now, I have lots of posts to compose, and I promise to do that real soon.

The Remaining Hours

It’s finally quiet here. The bath has been given, the teeth brushed, and the pj’s on. The lunch has been made. The new clothes, that were so carefully chosen, have been laid out for tomorrow. All the paperwork is filled out and put in his “take home” folder. And the folder and rest towel are in his backpack.

Everything is ready for his big day.

So, why am I feeling so sad? As much as I’m ready for a small break, with only one child at home, I’m terribly sad to see my middle child go.

It doesn’t seem like that many days ago, yet alone years ago, that I was struggling to get him potty trained. He was not going to do it, for anything. He’d scream, “Put my diaper on!” And mind you, he wasn’t 18 months old, like his sister. He was 3 years and 1 month old! It was time!

I was beginning to see just how strong willed he is. And part of me wishes I could say it’s gotten better, but it hasn’t. He’s still a study in contradiction. One minute he is hugging me and giving me such sweet loving. And the next, he is terrorizing his brother, D dog or both.

Yet, he’s such a wonderful helper and so eager to help his Mommy. He beams with pride when carrying in heavy loads of groceries, a 12 pack of Diet Coke with Lime on his shoulder and 2 sacks of groceries in his other hand. And he becomes furious with me if I even suggest that he lighten his load. He so desires to be strong like his Daddy.

He loves to sit in my lap and listen to me read or to just watch a little tv. He’s a Momma’s boy, but only in the sweetest way.

Up until yesterday, we’d read his chosen Bible story before nap and again at bedtime. And I can’t tell you how many times I’ve read Samson or David and Goliath, just two of his favorites.

However, many times I have wished that he would let Daddy do the honors, but he’d always want his Momma. It was our time. I’d read, he’d ask his 100 questions, and then I’d tuck him in and say his night-night prayers. Lastly, we’d hug and kiss, which usually involved a, “One more hug and kiss, Momma.”

And that’s been our routine at nap and bedtime, almost every day, for years. Now, we’ll only have it at bedtime.

But I’ll take that. I really like the idea of baby steps right now.

I know logically that he’ll be just fine tomorrow. But his nervous nature causes me a little concern. He’s my most nervous child. He’s way too concerned about everything. And I’m not sure if he’s more worried, about this whole school thing, than his sister or if he just vocalizes his concerns more.

He has asked so many questions over the last couple of days. The last questions before bedtime involved just when he would need to raise his hand. He’s used to yelling, “Momma, Momma!” Usually repeatedly at a rapid rate, until I respond. I believe this might be a legitimate concern.

He’s, also, quite concerned about this “rest” time thing. He does not understand how he can lie on a towel, on the floor, in a classroom with a bunch of other kids, without a pillow or something to cover up with, because, “Mommy, I’ll be cold.”, and take a nap. I wonder how Mrs. Combs will feel if we come to class tomorrow with his pillow and blankie? Will he have room in his cubby?

In the morning, I’ll proudly walk him to his room and point out the bathroom on the way, because another great concern of his is, “Why are the bathrooms in the hall?” He’s used to his Church rooms having bathrooms in every room. This baffles him.

And when the time comes for me to leave, I’ll hug and kiss him one more time, smile real big, turn at the door to wave bye (both to him and his childish innocence), and walk to my car with tears rolling down my cheeks, fully aware that I only have a few short years before I must repeat this, for the final time.

But right now, I’m going to go kiss his angelic, sleeping face and breathe in his sweetness. Because for a few more minutes, he’s home with me!