You might be a redneck....

if your idea of 'going green' is a change in the color of paint on your house.


*inspired by my good friend, Big Dave Grumpy Lucky, who by the way is not a redneck.

**thanks for the picture Alyssa.

Crisis Averted

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I am not a camping snob. Heck, I even enjoy a good redneck camping neighbor. And to many in the campground, we are that redneck camping neighbor. Having said that, there are a few amenities that I can not forgo when camping. One being, ELECTRICITY.

I may love cuddling up to a roaring campfire, waking up to the chirping of birds, and long meandering walks through nature, but I enjoy these things while camping in what some would call less than 'roughing it' conditions. Meaning, there is always a flushable toilet, private shower stall, and ELECTRICITY where I camp.

Chad and I discuss when and where we would like to camp, decide if anyone will be joining us, and then when the reservation opening arrives, I book 'em Dano. Both Chad and I function much better with a plan. We are not a spur of the moment, hope and a prayer, kind of couple.

This past holiday weekend was our maiden voyage for the camping season. All was prepped, purchased and packed, and we were on our way for a three day adventure. We were all smiles as we pulled into the lovely campground that was already filling up with nature lovers just like ourselves. As I guided Chad while he backed into our superb site, (really my flailing and hollering do little to help...I am certain, but he loves me, so he let's me feel helpful), he stuck his head out of the window to ask, "Which side is the power box on?"

Power box? Power box? Oh sweet Jesus, let there be a power box! Nothing. Did I mention that this site was superb? Bathroom 40 steps to the left, ginormous play area, volley ball court, horse-shoe pits, and basketball court 100 feet to the right. No freakin' power, are you kidding me? As I frantically looked hither and yon for some sort of explanation to fall from the sky, none came. I used every bad name that I could make up or remember to chastise myself within my own private thoughts. How did I forget to mention that it had to be a power spot? That is so unlike me. I am a detail person.

Chad sat quietly and watched the comedy of errors going on in my head. He did not call me any names. He did not chastise me. He just asked if I thought we could swing it without power. Yeah, I could, expect for the $150 worth of food that would be spoiled, as the coolers were packed to be emptied into the refrigerator. Not to mention the heat we would not have, on a less than warm May night. No, this just was not going to cut it. But pack up and head home? I may as well lay down and let the kids stone me one by one, because that proposal would not be met with anything but disdain.

So, once the panic attack subsided, and I went over every possible option, including checking for other available sites at nearby campgrounds, I finally decided to talk to the people in charge at our campground. I calmly explained that we had booked this site through the reservation help line, and somehow it had not been clarified that it was a non-electric site. I read her my confirmation numbers and the camp site number, 48E...she paused, "Well, any site ending with an E, is supposed to have electricity. Somehow there was a mistake on the map through the online service. We are very sorry."

In my head I am shouting, "I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT! I AM A DETAIL PERSON. I DID RESERVE A SITE WITH ELECTRICITY. THIS IS SO NOT MY FAULT!" But ever so calmly I said, "Oh my goodness, well, what do you think you can do about this? Because we would really hate to head back home. Could you run us electricity from the bath-house possibly?" She informed me that she would speak to her supervisor and send someone right over.

So, we ended up with the most superb-est (it's a word, trust me) site, with electricity. And a free canoe rental to boot.

Day One of Summer Vacation

Location--
Mom's bed

Time--
9:30AM

Mission--
Scooby-Doo

It's going to be a good summer.

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Ain't nothing like the real thing, baby

For some things skimping by on the off brand just will not cut the mustard. For example(s):

~Unless inserting cardboard covered with acid into your mouth excites you, stick with Crest White Strips. The Target brand just isn't going to cut it.

~Do I even need to say anything about ketchup? If it isn't Heinz than it may as well be dish soap.

~How many brands of diapers are out there? Almost as many as the number of stinky butts that they cover. But not all diapers were created equal. It took four babies for me to figure it out, but one pee in an off brand requires immediate action. While Huggies can take a Titanic explosion and still stand tough.

~Not that any processed cheese that requires no refrigeration can actually be called 'food', there is no swapping Velveeta for the store brand. While neither contain elements of natural cheese, the off brand tastes as though it has been atomically rubberized in order to be edible in alternate universes.

~Ladies, your legs are worth a good razor. In your lifetime you will most likely shave a mere 6 million times. While that could add up to a great savings by choosing to purchase the generic razor, let me take this opportunity to say that your legs are worth at least the Gillette Daisy.


~Not all soda pop is created equal. And I am not talking Coke and Pepsi here. I am referring to the off brand, wanna-be Dr. Thunder's, that taste much like watered down syrup. Stick with the ones who do it best.

~I do not know what they do or do not do to off brand envelopes (not even sure that there is a 'name brand'), but you may as well have a role of scotch tape handy to ensure that what you have just put inside remains there to the final destination.

~Speaking of tape...if it isn't Scotch, it probably will do nothing to help with the envelope sealing mentioned above.

Okay, I could go on...and on...and on, you all know that by now. But, I am really interested in hearing some items or products, that you, my faithful readers, have discovered can not be skimped on. Let us hear from the masses on this one.

Thank you written all over her face

One of the many great attributes of Katharine is her enthusiasm in the smallest of things. She is the kind of kid that loves everything. There is not a present offered her that she does not give her fullest appreciative reaction.

Big or little, toy or clothes, does not matter...this is the face of the day. She seems to say with her expression, "Wow, I can not believe that this is all for me."

After every gift received, she gladly made the rounds hugging and kissing (if you were a lucky one) the gift givers. What better thank you is there than that? I hope that those of you attending realize just how special you made her day. The gift of your presence was far superior to any present.

Get me to the church on time

Let's face it. Getting our families to church each Sunday is an accomplishment of which to be proud. Getting our families to church without their breakfast lining their lips, matching socks, and smiles is a meritous act deserving of accolades and possibly a small parade.

Something happens on Sunday morning and it usually is not a holy thing. Amidst the hubbub of waking, eating, washing, dressing, combing, and then remembering to smile, comes the opportunity for chaos gone wrong.

I have learned over the years to accept that our Sunday morning preparation does not have to go smoothly, it just has to happen. The Lord can handle it, and He will most certainly rectify our attitudes and forgive our faults. We just have to get there. Of course I enjoy the mornings prior to church when all goes well. I prefer to walk into our church with smiling, clean children. But it is not the reality many days.

Almost without fail, on the really rough mornings, an angel is sent to us. Usually in the form of an elderly man or woman who kindly seeks us out after Mass to gently lay a hand on our weary shoulder and marvel at the beauty of our family and the fabulous job we are doing of raising them. Inside I am shuddering, thinking, "Oh Lord, is it a sinful lie of mine to not confess right now to them that I am failing miserably!?" Instead, I accept it as the the grace that it is and the reassurance that I so desperately needed and I thank them.

I know the Father forgives any and all shortcomings found within me and my family. And I know that our presence is far more important than our appearance. And I know that our hearts and attitudes can be transformed far more easily from our view from the pew than from the sofa. So we go. Regardless of the chaos created in getting there.

And once in a while, the chaos of the morning does something that causes me to giggle out loud and wear a silly grin all through Mass. Like when our four-year-old, who proudly dressed herself for church, and did a wonderful job choosing a pretty spring dress, leans over during the first song and whispers, "Mommy, I am not wearing any panties."

Some of life's guarantees

There are few certainties in life. But of these two things you can be sure...

IF you scrub your kitchen floor, and I do not mean with a Swifer or a mop, but really SCRUB it hands-and-knees style, someone WILL spill their milk at dinner. Cascading it down every surface within 4 feet, including walls, windows, bench, table and floor.

IF you wash all bedding in the house, someone WILL have an accident of titanic proportions. Flooding their pajama's, undergarments, blankie, spilling over onto the comforter, all blankets, sheets, pillows and mattress pad. But not to limit it to their own bedding, they will strip down with the fragrances of urine still wafting from their naked body and sneak quietly into a spare bed bringing along for security their semi-damp blankie, just to ensure that bedding must be rewashed on multiple levels....

...of this you can be certain.

Happy Birthday sweet Kate

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What can I say about a kid that was born on Mother's Day? She has continued to be a present of joy ever since that day.

Four years later, and I can not write this without tearing up. Four years? Seriously? She has always seemed older than the average kid her age anyway, so this should not come as some great shock. But to really quantify the time that she has been part of our lives is astounding. Four years.

Katharine is a burst of sunshine. She daily makes me laugh out loud, which really takes quite a bit. Her witty, inquisitive questioning keeps me on my toes and often leaves me with nothing to say. How do you answer questions like, "Mom, do those people walk to Dancing With The Stars, or do they dance?" Or, "Mom, should I invite everyone in the whole world to my birthday party, or just the people that I know?"

Her halo sits slightly askew on that lovely head due to the budding horns beneath it. I have no idea who that likens her to...do you mom? Dad? Uncle Joey? Any ideas where she gets that? But even in her defiance and strong will she is irresistible and often I must turn my face away in order to not show my obvious humor in her orneriness.

One thing about Kate is that you can not meet her and not instantly be drawn into her world, her charm, her smile, and her companionship. She seeks the attention of any who wish to bestow it upon her. She does not look over her shoulder for mom as long as there is a pair of loving arms willing to led her away.

I have deceived myself into thinking that Kate would be here with me for many years to come. When in reality next fall she starts the long walk away. She will be joining her friends in the social and learning time of pre-school, and I will be left wondering where I blinked for too long and missed these moments.

I love you Kate. I think that any sense of humor that I possess most obviously made it's appearance in you. I just can not imagine a more perfect Mother's Day gift. You compliment our family in so many ways and remind each of us to lighten up and laugh. I am so proud of your accomplishments, riding bike, writing your name, recognizing your alphabet, dressing yourself, teaching your little brother so many things...the list is endless. But nothing that you do or say is the reason that I feel such amazing love for you. I love you because you are you. You are priceless, you are joy.

Happy birthday Katy-Bug, Kay Kay Two-Same-Schishacockapoopoo, Bouchie, Kapony, Katy-Taty, Sparkly, Glamorama, and many more.

Considering my options

I take my job very seriously. Not to mean that I am good at it. Heavens no. I think that I missed the training sessions offered during my rookie years here. I can imagine that they would have been very helpful.

But I do take it seriously. Meaning that it means a great deal to me. I am happy to be employed with this establishment. The people that I work for are the most enthusiastic and entertaining around. And although my boss can sometimes be unavailable for questions and complaints, he is very understanding about my need to dress casual.

Some people claim that their job has lost its thrill, its challenges. My job provides new challenges and thrills daily. As scheduled and routine as it can appear to be, one can rarely be prepared for the daily occurrences that go on in this profession.

I have thought about seeking a promotion and giving up some of my daily work load to another and taking on a different type of challenge for a while. And while the excitement of something new is appealing, I just have not been able to do it. Call me egotistical, but I just can not imagine that whomever would be hired to fill my position could do it better than me. I really feel that I am the most qualified for this job.

I suppose that I could be wrong. I could turn my position over to another and just see how it goes. I mean, it is a demanding job...but it is not brain surgery. What could go wrong? How bad could it be? Maybe it would even be better for the people I work for, or possibly even better for me, to have a break from the grind of it all.

Yeah, maybe I am over-stating my qualifications for this position. Maybe it is not that I am concerned for what my clientele would miss, but what I would miss.

--I would miss the morning kisses that taste like Fruit Loops.

--I would miss story time while still in our jammies.

--I would miss the coloring around the kitchen table while munching on teddy grahams.

--I would miss the trundling feet on the kitchen floor while following me to the living room.

--I would miss the afternoon snuggles while watching the Bernstein Bears.

--I would miss the frequent requests for 'chalky-milk'.

--I would miss the spontaneous walks to the park or romps in the snow.

--I would miss the squeals of delight and squeals of anger as siblings played together.

--I would miss the anticipation felt knowing that it's time to pick up kids from school.

--I would miss the hugs and sharing from the school kids as they tell about their day.

--I would miss the helping hands that pulled clothes from the dryer as I loaded the washer.

--I would miss the lap time that inevitably slows down production but is oh so good for morale.

No promotion is worth all of that. Dental plan or not. Maybe I do not need a job transfer or promotion...maybe just some perspective.

Just after trying out the new Chi....

...on my own hair, the girls excitedly asked me to do the same to theirs. Olivia was thrilled to have 'straight' hair like moms, which I had always thought was straight, but boy-oh-boy it becomes SUPER STRAIGHT when flat ironed, and she willingly and patiently stood still while I smoothed out the layers of her golden locks.

Kate, on the other hand, while wanting to be made beautiful like mom and Olivia, had far less patience in her jiggly-wiggly three-year-old legs. She stood long enough for me to smooth out a few essential pieces and then wanted to be freed to go and show her daddy the results.

Running from the bathroom to find dad in the living room she exclaimed, "Daddy! Look at my hair, don't I look beautiful?" From the bathroom I listened and saw without seeing the perplexed look on my husband's face as he desperately attempted to notice a difference, much the same look he has given me after I return from a trip to the beauty salon. After a repeat of the question by Katharine, he eventually says, "Yes, Kate. You do look beautiful. Did mommy fix your hair?" Emphatically she replied, "No daddy, she just warmed it up!"

Yet another wonder of the almighty Chi. Add that to the box, ladies and gentlemen, in addition to straightening, smoothing, flipping, and curling....it is a hair warmer.

Trash and Treasure Day

It is cleverly called, "City Wide Clean Up". I assume to disguise and perhaps fool new comers into believing that they are not living in the redneck capital of the world.

Every year, in an effort to beautify our city, our local National Guard members graciously make the rounds through town and dispose of any unwanted goods. Ranging from old, broken down furniture to piles of broken up fencing, from old bicycles to wicker baskets, from railroad ties to oscillating fans, from broken windows to rotted mattresses. In an effort to be prepared, people start laying out their garbage piles a day or two early.

The usually quiet and serene neighborhood streets become traffic jams of trucks, trailers, and looky-lous who have waited exactly 364 days to scour the city in hopes of discovering the prize of a life time.

The craziest irony of the whole thing, is that as I shudder at the brazenness of the people who will stop basically in the middle of the road, scavenge through the pile at the end of the driveway, and then get back into their cars to move on, I am also extremely tempted to make my own trip around town to see what might be found.

It is ridiculous really. R-I-D-I-C-U-L-O-U-S. Ridiculous what some people will take home as a treasure. Ridiculous what some people will throw out as junk. Ridiculous that I even care about either.

As unique as the rest

When did you realize that your family was just as dysfunctional as all the rest? Or hasn't that moment come for you yet?

Do you remember growing up and thinking that you had the most normal, average, everyday life? Do you remember thinking that there was no way that your family would ever be qualified for an episode of Jerry Springer, or even Dr. Phil for that matter? Do you remember telling yourself that no matter how old you became you would always feel 'at home' around your siblings and family?


As I think about my own childhood with all of it's character and characters, I realize that I am who I am today because of the shaping it created within me. So much of what we see as 'normal' is clouded by our own exposure to normalcy. Don't get me wrong...this is not a post on the truths of relativism. Hardly. It is just a reflection of what has made us the adults that we are and what visions we clung to as children.

We might have been dysfunctional. We might still be. I guess as an adult the real question is, am I okay with that? And ya know what? I am. It makes me feel very normal to be dysfunctional.

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