Out of the mouths of babes.
Yep. That's the story of my life.
With an ever-increasing number of babes, I often wonder what exactly will spill from their lips next.
Take Baby Boy, for example. Always seeking attention, he gets sillier by the day. This week, he's already announced that he wants a parrot for his shoulder. And kindly looked at the baby-sitter's chest and asked her if she was "getting ready to feed a baby too." And that was just two simple statements out a myriad of the ones he's spilled forth in the past couple of days.
To be honest, I never know what's next.
Even Eldest Son has his moments. The hair stylist cutting his hair Monday afternoon mentioned that Middle Son doesn't talk much, but ES does his fair share. His response? "I only talk to people who aren't creepy." She was happy not to be creepy. As for Henry and myself, we buried our faces in our laps.
I've gotten over it being embarrassing, because once upon a time, it really was. ES would open his mouth, and I cringed. While I was pregnant for MS, he asked one of my male colleagues if he, too, was having a baby. Sometimes I could see the wheels turning just enough that I was able to clamp my hand over his lips in time to catch the inevitable phrase -- but that didn't happen as often as I would like.
Now, I just laugh.
I chalk it up to what kids say, and I giggle knowing that they're only little and innocent for awhile. One day, I will wish such honesty would spill from their lips. One day, what they say will no longer make me laugh. Sometimes it'll even make me cry.
So, I'll enjoy it now. Pardon me if I giggle.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Versed in pregnancy
Not yet.
Perhaps not ever.
It would take a woman stronger than me to be well versed in pregnancy.
Funny how each one is different.
Funny how my body adapts, changes and grapples with the wee one tucked below the folds of flesh.
But I am getting there, slowly.
The person who said "age is nothing but a number" was never pregnant with her fourth child in her 30s.
For a few weeks, exhaustion threatened to completely take over my life. Then, raging amounts of hormones running rampant through my body decided that being tired wasn't enough. I could hear them screaming, "Let's make her incredibly nauseous!!!"
Never had I experienced symptoms of this magnitude during gestation.
But I think it's reaching its end ... Now I am just ready for all the joys of pregnancy, like feeling a moving baby with a strong heartbeat.
The first trimester is nearing the end ... For that, I won't complain because I am all too ready to feel like a pregnant lady, rather than a bloated hormone dumpster.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Ahhh, I love the peace and quiet
To celebrate our first wedding anniversary, hubby and I planned a trip to New York City. Long weekend full of love, fun and time together. It was his third trip to the Big Apple, my first. I was looking forward to all the sights, sounds and taking in all that city life had to offer, even if it was just for three days.
Insert two blisters, countless headaches and a few outbursts later, and let's just say that yours truly will likely never venture back to NYC again. It was nice seeing the grand lady, but I think my vacation time will be put to better use in the future.
Not that it wasn't grand, beautiful, interesting and wonderful. It was all that and more, but taking this little country gal out of her rural roots and plopping her down in the middle of NYC probably isn't the wisest course of action.
Our hotel was seven blocks from Times Square. I could see Macy's and the Empire State Building from the front door of our hotel. A subway entrance was just feet from our door, and Broadway was a stone's throw away.
But do you know how long seven blocks is when your feet are screaming for mercy? Do you realize that you have to go through airport security to get in the ESB? Do you know how many horns honk on Broadway, or how many people are in Times Square? Ever priced anything inside Macy's flagship store?
I was happy to spend a weekend with my adorable hubby. Anytime with him is happy time. I was blessed to have finally seen the Big Apple. It's a grand place to visit, at least once in your lifetime. And I loved touring Chinatown -- it was the best shopping and best food we ate during our stay. The Statue of Liberty is a grand lady, who still looks beautiful after more than 100 years in the sun. And I was moved to tears just standing near Ground Zero, remembering the heartbreak felt by the nation, not just NYC, nine years ago.
Let's say I wouldn't trade the experience for the world, but it was an experience. And, right now, I am happy to be home, where horns are a cause for concern and blisters only come after a vigorous workout in brand-new shoes.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Shocked? Not me.
I wasn't shocked. Not in the least.
According to an AP article, the mother of a 2-year-old southern Indiana boy who was allowed to remain in her care after he tested positive for methamphetamine has pleaded guilty in his beating death.
A few months ago, I had the pleasure of dealing with the Department of Child Services in May of this year. In a nutshell, the agency sucks. Really sucks. And it didn't take myself or Henry very long to tell them that they, indeed, suck.
The mission, according to the state Web site, says that DCS, "protects Indiana's children from further abuse or neglect and prevents, remedies, or assists in solving problems that may result in abuse, neglect, exploitation, or delinquency of children."
And, once again, I told them they need to re-read their mission statement, because it doesn't quite hold true. Apparently, someone else needs to ask them to re-read their mission statement if they can allow a 2-year-old who tested positive for methamphetamine to return to his home, only to find him dead a few weeks later.
I suppose the case worker found this little problem in Dubois County to be unsubstantiated. Guess the kid is just another meth head, out there looking for a high, while watching Dora and Diego on TV.
Get real, DCS.
Start looking at yourselves and re-examine whether or not your mission statement holds true. Kids need protected, and you're not doing your job.
Wake up, DCS, before it's too late.
According to an AP article, the mother of a 2-year-old southern Indiana boy who was allowed to remain in her care after he tested positive for methamphetamine has pleaded guilty in his beating death.
A few months ago, I had the pleasure of dealing with the Department of Child Services in May of this year. In a nutshell, the agency sucks. Really sucks. And it didn't take myself or Henry very long to tell them that they, indeed, suck.
The mission, according to the state Web site, says that DCS, "protects Indiana's children from further abuse or neglect and prevents, remedies, or assists in solving problems that may result in abuse, neglect, exploitation, or delinquency of children."
And, once again, I told them they need to re-read their mission statement, because it doesn't quite hold true. Apparently, someone else needs to ask them to re-read their mission statement if they can allow a 2-year-old who tested positive for methamphetamine to return to his home, only to find him dead a few weeks later.
I suppose the case worker found this little problem in Dubois County to be unsubstantiated. Guess the kid is just another meth head, out there looking for a high, while watching Dora and Diego on TV.
Get real, DCS.
Start looking at yourselves and re-examine whether or not your mission statement holds true. Kids need protected, and you're not doing your job.
Wake up, DCS, before it's too late.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
It's here ...
Isn't there always an omen somewhere? Shouldn't there have been some sort of sign? I can only picture the stars aligning, pointing me away from a persimmon. Perhaps they needed help at the Dogwood Festival? Perhaps I should quit saying "yes" altogether, and start enjoying some quiet time at home.
But what would be the fun in that?
Persimmon week started easy enough. Second in command, I was pretty ready for whatever was thrown at us this weekend as we went about the business of setting up the festival.
Or so I thought.
About the time the canopy over the stage collapsed and a busted water pipe sent water shooting 40 feet in the air, I started really questioning my sanity. When the electricity wasn't turned on, and the canopy folks questioned whether or not they could fix our busted canopy, I almost checked myself in. ... Except there's no time for that. After all, the Wesleyans needed to make their power cord reach the outlet, and Manny the Greek needed a place to sleep. Jym needed a carnie to move his car, and the carnies needed water for their campers.
When you're planning the Persimmon Festival, it's always something.
We still don't know where that chunk of asphalt landed after it was shot in the air by a 40-foot water geyser caused by a tent stake through a six-inch water line. But it's now fixed. The stage is still a disaster, but it, too, will get fixed. That's our job ... we plan, then fix.
But in between running up and down Main Street, we find a lot of time to laugh.
Hazing a first-year parade chairman can grab an easy laugh. Serious and quite nervous about his job, we decided to submit fake parade entries. One form was for the "Tube Top Review: Boobs are Us" and "Gay and Lesbian Pride." When asked about the size of our unit, of course we entered "DDD." And when he called frantic about whether or not he should allow these units, after he already consulted the 73-year-old chamber secretary about her opinion, we couldn't help but laugh. Matter of fact, we were rolling in the street. He says paybacks are hell, but we'll see what happens.
Then there was the supposed "sewer backup" on Main Street. We told Brother Moe there was turds floating down Main Street, and he needed to come immediately. He's worked for the city for a very long time. He told us there are no sewer lines on Main Street. But he also said he understood -- we were bored, it was raining, and we had to play a trick. That made us laugh more than the joke itself.
Ahhh ... It's the Persimmon Festival.
Hard work, but fun work. Friendships, dedication, volunteerism at its best.
And lots of rain ... lots and lots of rain.
Pass the poncho, and bring on the pudding!
But what would be the fun in that?
Persimmon week started easy enough. Second in command, I was pretty ready for whatever was thrown at us this weekend as we went about the business of setting up the festival.
Or so I thought.
About the time the canopy over the stage collapsed and a busted water pipe sent water shooting 40 feet in the air, I started really questioning my sanity. When the electricity wasn't turned on, and the canopy folks questioned whether or not they could fix our busted canopy, I almost checked myself in. ... Except there's no time for that. After all, the Wesleyans needed to make their power cord reach the outlet, and Manny the Greek needed a place to sleep. Jym needed a carnie to move his car, and the carnies needed water for their campers.
When you're planning the Persimmon Festival, it's always something.
We still don't know where that chunk of asphalt landed after it was shot in the air by a 40-foot water geyser caused by a tent stake through a six-inch water line. But it's now fixed. The stage is still a disaster, but it, too, will get fixed. That's our job ... we plan, then fix.
But in between running up and down Main Street, we find a lot of time to laugh.
Hazing a first-year parade chairman can grab an easy laugh. Serious and quite nervous about his job, we decided to submit fake parade entries. One form was for the "Tube Top Review: Boobs are Us" and "Gay and Lesbian Pride." When asked about the size of our unit, of course we entered "DDD." And when he called frantic about whether or not he should allow these units, after he already consulted the 73-year-old chamber secretary about her opinion, we couldn't help but laugh. Matter of fact, we were rolling in the street. He says paybacks are hell, but we'll see what happens.
Then there was the supposed "sewer backup" on Main Street. We told Brother Moe there was turds floating down Main Street, and he needed to come immediately. He's worked for the city for a very long time. He told us there are no sewer lines on Main Street. But he also said he understood -- we were bored, it was raining, and we had to play a trick. That made us laugh more than the joke itself.
Ahhh ... It's the Persimmon Festival.
Hard work, but fun work. Friendships, dedication, volunteerism at its best.
And lots of rain ... lots and lots of rain.
Pass the poncho, and bring on the pudding!
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Political chaos
Raised in a Democratic family, I thought that was the only political choice until I got old enough to realize we, as Americans, live in a democracy that upholds a choice when it comes to politics. In America, we have the right to be Democrats, Republicans or Independents. We get to say what we want, when we want, without government intervention.
So why, I wonder, is it that everyone wants to force their political views on others?
I purposely keep my political views to myself because I am a newspaper reporter/editor. I have to interview Independents, Republicans and Democrats. Wearing an elephant on my sleeve isn't exactly what you would call status quo for my job.
Because I keep my views pretty private, there has been a lot of speculation as to what I actually am. When folks figure it out, I wish they would let me know.
You see, I am straight down the middle. I have a lot of views that align themselves with the right, and some that go left.
I've never been on welfare or used any sort of government system. I do believe I have the right to make my own health care choices, but believe the system is broke when my provider charges my insurance company at least three times as much as they would charge me if I was a self-pay patient. Children need to be protected and deserve the uptmost support when it comes to education and a good life. But, yes, I believe in same-sex marriage. And, no, I don't agree with everything Obama has done, particularly when it comes to spending. I think government should spend less and tax less.
Marriage is not a religious issue. Same-sex couples should be afforded a civil union. If the Catholic, Methodist or Presbyterian church wants to forbid same-sex marriages within their buildings and clergies, based on the Bible, then so be it. If the government wants to ban it based on the Bible, then I have a problem. Government and religion should be kept separate. I am, perhaps, the only person in Lawrence County without an "In God We Trust" license plate for that same reason. I go to church, consider myself a Christian, and love God above all else, but when it comes to government, I want things separate, so I can worship freely and so my great-grandchildren can worship freely.
Health care is a mess. Too many people are uninsured, especially children. Do I want the government telling me what to do when it comes to health care? Hell no. Do providers and insurance companies need a fix? Hell yes. Take my son's recent tonsilectomy. My insurance was charged $900 for the procedure. The provider got $100. Didn't my provider overcharge my insurance by nine times? And isn't my deductible and co-pay based on the $900 figure, and not the $100 the insurance company said the procedure should cost?
The government rebates and bailouts are out of hand. Cash for Clunkers was a joke, as is the first-time homeowner rebate. Not to mention, only a very small percentage of the population actually benefits from these programs. The people who actually need the help aren't getting it. It's not helping John Doe who lost his job at Visteon and can't find work. How can he afford a new car payment? How will he save his house? Too much spending. My great-great-grandchildren will be paying off the debt.
My problem? Cable television news shows. I wish MSNBC and Fox News would quit fighting and bickering. I wish Glen Beck and Rush Limbaugh would quit scaring the right-wingers, and I wish Keith Oberman would get over George Bush's actions, or lack thereof. Too many people think the world is going to end if a man marries another man. Too many liberals fight for ridiculous causes while our own children starve, suffer through abuse and are neglected. Forget the whales, dogs and seals and start looking at the children in our own backyards.
Soapbox? I have plenty. Liberal? Sometimes. Conservative? Sometimes. American? Always. You see, it's my right to voice my opinion. Like it or not. But no one is ever going to tell me how to think ... not the government, Facebook or cable news. And I suppose that's why Freedom of Speech is my most appreciated constitutional right.
So why, I wonder, is it that everyone wants to force their political views on others?
I purposely keep my political views to myself because I am a newspaper reporter/editor. I have to interview Independents, Republicans and Democrats. Wearing an elephant on my sleeve isn't exactly what you would call status quo for my job.
Because I keep my views pretty private, there has been a lot of speculation as to what I actually am. When folks figure it out, I wish they would let me know.
You see, I am straight down the middle. I have a lot of views that align themselves with the right, and some that go left.
I've never been on welfare or used any sort of government system. I do believe I have the right to make my own health care choices, but believe the system is broke when my provider charges my insurance company at least three times as much as they would charge me if I was a self-pay patient. Children need to be protected and deserve the uptmost support when it comes to education and a good life. But, yes, I believe in same-sex marriage. And, no, I don't agree with everything Obama has done, particularly when it comes to spending. I think government should spend less and tax less.
Marriage is not a religious issue. Same-sex couples should be afforded a civil union. If the Catholic, Methodist or Presbyterian church wants to forbid same-sex marriages within their buildings and clergies, based on the Bible, then so be it. If the government wants to ban it based on the Bible, then I have a problem. Government and religion should be kept separate. I am, perhaps, the only person in Lawrence County without an "In God We Trust" license plate for that same reason. I go to church, consider myself a Christian, and love God above all else, but when it comes to government, I want things separate, so I can worship freely and so my great-grandchildren can worship freely.
Health care is a mess. Too many people are uninsured, especially children. Do I want the government telling me what to do when it comes to health care? Hell no. Do providers and insurance companies need a fix? Hell yes. Take my son's recent tonsilectomy. My insurance was charged $900 for the procedure. The provider got $100. Didn't my provider overcharge my insurance by nine times? And isn't my deductible and co-pay based on the $900 figure, and not the $100 the insurance company said the procedure should cost?
The government rebates and bailouts are out of hand. Cash for Clunkers was a joke, as is the first-time homeowner rebate. Not to mention, only a very small percentage of the population actually benefits from these programs. The people who actually need the help aren't getting it. It's not helping John Doe who lost his job at Visteon and can't find work. How can he afford a new car payment? How will he save his house? Too much spending. My great-great-grandchildren will be paying off the debt.
My problem? Cable television news shows. I wish MSNBC and Fox News would quit fighting and bickering. I wish Glen Beck and Rush Limbaugh would quit scaring the right-wingers, and I wish Keith Oberman would get over George Bush's actions, or lack thereof. Too many people think the world is going to end if a man marries another man. Too many liberals fight for ridiculous causes while our own children starve, suffer through abuse and are neglected. Forget the whales, dogs and seals and start looking at the children in our own backyards.
Soapbox? I have plenty. Liberal? Sometimes. Conservative? Sometimes. American? Always. You see, it's my right to voice my opinion. Like it or not. But no one is ever going to tell me how to think ... not the government, Facebook or cable news. And I suppose that's why Freedom of Speech is my most appreciated constitutional right.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Going batty?
The idea came to Henry and I as we puttered through Crawford County Saturday afternoon on our way home from Holiday World. "I love Marengo Cave," I sighed almost to myself after we passed a billboard advertising the national landmark. "We should take the boys, Monday," hubby proclaimed, hearing me as he intuitively does.
So, we took the boys to Marengo Cave Monday. And it just so happened that it was 126th anniversary of the discovery of the cave. That was just our good luck.
But I had an idea to make it a little funner for the boysies. I bought each of us a gray T-shirt at Wal-Mart and a few bottles of neon and glow-in-the-dark fabric paint. I figured we could decorate our shirts and wear them to the cave. Not only would it be fun, but we'd surely stand out in that dark underground passage.
Okay. So there was this glob of glow paint that landed right in the middle of Jacob's shirt, and Lucas had a rough time drawing webs with the blue paint. We kind of looked cheesy, but it was a great idea. Alex glowed for SpongeBob, Lucas glowed for Spider-Man, Jacob glowed for a Shelby Mustang GT he drew himself, Henry glowed (as he always does) for the Steelers, and Mommy looked quite femine with her dragonflies, bumble bees and flowers ... It was a great idea.
We wore our shirts and loved their effect in the cave. We picnicked outside the cave, and we took a long nap after we got home so we'd be able to stay awake to watch the fireworks.
Kid-centered days are the best. And homemade T-shirts make more than memories.
So, we took the boys to Marengo Cave Monday. And it just so happened that it was 126th anniversary of the discovery of the cave. That was just our good luck.
But I had an idea to make it a little funner for the boysies. I bought each of us a gray T-shirt at Wal-Mart and a few bottles of neon and glow-in-the-dark fabric paint. I figured we could decorate our shirts and wear them to the cave. Not only would it be fun, but we'd surely stand out in that dark underground passage.
Okay. So there was this glob of glow paint that landed right in the middle of Jacob's shirt, and Lucas had a rough time drawing webs with the blue paint. We kind of looked cheesy, but it was a great idea. Alex glowed for SpongeBob, Lucas glowed for Spider-Man, Jacob glowed for a Shelby Mustang GT he drew himself, Henry glowed (as he always does) for the Steelers, and Mommy looked quite femine with her dragonflies, bumble bees and flowers ... It was a great idea.
We wore our shirts and loved their effect in the cave. We picnicked outside the cave, and we took a long nap after we got home so we'd be able to stay awake to watch the fireworks.
Kid-centered days are the best. And homemade T-shirts make more than memories.
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