Twin secrets.

I've written in here before how Kenny pilfers junk food from the cupboards and stores it away in secret hiding places to keep it from the kids (namely Kyler, as he is our junk food junkie).  So yesterday, as I was walking my lunch break away on my treadmill and I noticed something sticking out from underneath it, I just had to check it out.  I hopped off and laid down on the floor and sure enough: a stockpile of assorted gums and candies.  I stayed there, laying on my belly, laughing and thinking how this is actually his most brilliant hiding spot yet.  Who would ever look under the treadmill?  It's like when you're walking around the house, frantically searching for the keys and they're in your hand the entire time.  Nobody ever suspects the obvious or the ironic. 

Kyler walked into the room as I was still scoping out what all was underneath said treadmill.  We both had that deer-in-the-headlights look.  I knew why I had it, but I was confused about why Kyler looked so guilty.  He said, "Oh NO, you found it!"  I was surprised that he knew about Kenny's stockpile until he said, "I've had that stuff there for weeks so that DAD won't find it and eat it!  You CAN'T tell him." 

I assured Kyler that his secret is safe with me, but how funny is that?  Kenny has a secret stash of food that he's hiding from Kyler, while Kyler has a secret stash he's hiding from Kenny.  And the best part is that none of the stuff is the same.  Never has the term 'Like father, like son' rung so true in this house. 

Full moon = talk of Seuss Dogg?

Yesterday marked a quite shocking day in our Bigley family history.  And by that, I mean that Kenny willingly washed the dishes (all by himself) and I caught a football (not even on accident).  We checked and sure enough:  full moon.  That explains everything.

When we were driving home from swim lessons, Kyler was sitting in the passenger seat next to me.  We were listening to a CD I'd burned a few days ago, and Kyler suddenly turned up the volume and said, "Oh, I LOVE this!!"  I have finally found something that I have in common with my son: music.  I had no idea that he liked good music.  Up until yesterday, I have only heard him listen to the country radio station and Aerosmith.  We embarked upon quite the extended conversation about how brilliant Paul Simon is.  Somehow, it turned into Kyler comparing Snoop Dogg to Dr. Seuss.  I can't even say exactly how we got to this point, but it really had me confused so I asked, "How are THOSE two alike?"  He explained to me that the reason he's a Snoop fan is because he doesn't cuss in his songs.  Instead, where you would normally hear a swear word, he just makes up his own word.  Dr. Seuss uses this same tactic when he creates an object or character in his books that are not real or at least, not yet created.  Yeah...yeah, he's right.  I just don't understand how he comes up with this stuff.

Preparing for Mae's upcoming social studies test this morning before school, Mae told me, "First, I'll tell you everything I can remember about this chapter."  I thought that was a good idea so I gave her my undivided attention.  She began, "You have to be eighteen years old to vote."  I nodded, said, "Yep," and sat waiting for her next fact.  She said, "And that's all.  That's exactly everything I remember about this whole chapter."  She was serious.  For every missing cell in our (Mae's and my) brains that is supposed to hold memories, Kyler seems to have gotten two.  Good thing Mae's test isn't until tomorrow.

I didn't know I know how to cook.

Since Kenny has started working first shift, some amazing things have happened.  For example, I can suddenly cook and my timing is impeccable.  When he walks through the door at five o'clock, I am putting the finishing touches on our suppertime meal.  However, the kids and I are accustomed to eating at four o'clock.  I know it's early, but it's what we're used to so one hour makes a huge difference.  We are all but starving by the time Kenny gets home.  Last night (taco night), when Kenny walked through the front door, we were already gathered around the table with our tacos to our mouths, just waiting for him to sit down so we could eat.  I personally was wondering if I was going to make it, stomach growling and monstrous attitude at its best.  As I finally took the first bite of taco, I exclaimed, "Mmmm, these tacos taste like heaven."  Serious as could be, Mae asked, "Who's Kevin?"  And then heavenly taco was spewed throughout the kitchen due to uncontrollable laughter from everybody except Mae, who still sat looking completely serious and now wondering why everybody was laughing.  I said, "HEAven."  She said, "OOOOooohhh.  That makes sense."

On Sunday, it was the nicest day of the year thus far.  Sixty degrees in February and guess where I was?  Laid up on the couch, battling the exact same fever-cold-chills-headache that I endured in January.  Kenny and the kids spent the duration of the day outside, playing football, baseball, riding bikes and doing everything else I would have loved to be doing if only I could.  They came inside when it started getting dark, exhausted and smelling of the outdoors.  I pulled myself off of the couch to use the bathroom and as I walked past Kenny, he said, "Honey, you look pregnant!"  That stopped me dead in my tracks and I stood there for a moment thinking really hard.  I decided that I had most definitely told him already, so I sputtered, "Umm...uhh...I AM pregnant."  Kenny rolled his eyes and said, "I KNOW, but you actually look like it now, that's all."  While I would like to believe that my husband was simply commenting on my beautiful and astounding pregnancy glow, it's much more likely (especially due to my appearance on that particular day) that he was referring to me looking like a human lard-o instead.  I just can't wait to resume running again.  I know that there are women who run throughout their entire pregnancy, putting on a total weight gain of two pounds, but that is not me.  It isn't safe.  In the few months that I have been running, I have fallen multiple times, run headfirst into things and rolled my ankles over hedge apples.  I'm perfectly fine with risking my own life to run, but not my unborn baby's.  That's just not fair.

And if you're already getting tired of reading pregnancy stories, you may as well quit reading until August, at which time I will be updating multiple funny baby stories instead.  So here's one more.  A few days ago, I was washing the dishes when Kenny asked me if I could feel the baby kicking yet.  I told him that no, I can't, but I do get that 'overly excited' feeling.  "Like when you're driving really fast down a gravel road and you get to the top of the hill...that feeling right when you're going over it.  I feel like that ALL the time."  Upon hearing this, Kyler got really excited and said, "That's SO cool!  I LOVE that feeling!!  Oh, now I just can't WAIT until..." and then his face dropped and he continued "...oh, wait, never mind."  To make him feel better about never being able to carry a child of his own, I told him all about the needle they stick in your back when receiving an epidural.  He told me that he just wouldn't get the epidural and I told him, "Then it will hurt one-hundred times worse than the needle."  True story.  I've done both and have yet to decide exactly what to do about this one.  I might just tough it out again and if I do, well, you'll know.  Wherever you are, you'll probably hear Kenny screaming as I squeeze his hand clean off of his arm.  He just recently recovered from Mae's birth.

It's morning, not mourning.

Today is day three of Kenny's new job and we've found a downside.  See, in his entire working life, Kenny has only worked a couple months here and there on first shift.  Besides that, it's always been second or third, where he was never awakened by an alarm clock and was allowed ample time to lay idly in bed before actually having to get up.  And as it turns out, Kenny is NOT a morning person.

Monday, 5am:  I flip on the light and tell Kenny to get up.  5:15am:  I again tell Kenny that it's time t:o wake up.  5:30am:  I yell because I'm getting tired of walking from my desk to the bedroom.  It's a long walk (it's not).  This time, I hear a groan and a whimper.  6am:  I hear the shower turn on, FINALLY.  Kenny spends the next thirty minutes running wildly through the house, trying to locate everything he needs and complaining that I didn't "make him" get up earlier.  He barely makes it to work on time on his very first day

Tuesday, 5am:  I flip the light switch on and off for one minute.  Nothing.  I sprint to the bed, hop on and tickle-torture Kenny.  He begs for mercy and makes me believe that my plan has worked and he is getting out of bed.  I back off and he glares at me, then angrily pulls the blankets over his head.  5:15am and on:  repeat Monday.  He barely makes it to work on time on his very second day.

Wednesday, 5am:  I flip on the light, hop onto the bed and serenade Kenny with made-up-on-the-spot songs about himself waking up and having the best day ever.  I rip the blankets off of him as the grand finale.  He retrieves the blankets, pulls them back over his head and I think I hear him crying.  5:15am and on:  repeat Monday and Tuesday.  He barely makes it to work on time on his very third day. I'm sensing a pattern here...

As you can see, drastic measures must be taken.  Nothing seems to be working and we just can't have him running around like a chicken with his head cut off each morning, though the kids do find it quite entertaining.  Tomorrow, I'm thinking about running into the bedroom at 5am with the fire extinguisher in my hands, screaming frantically that the house is on fire and I can't find the kids, then running back out.  That's sure to work.  While it might scare him into partial heart attack, he will probably not force me to wake him in such a way ever again.  Also, he's still young and will probably bounce back just fine. 

I would  like to add one final note here.  Kenny and I go to bed at the SAME time.  I get up approximately every two hours in the night to use the restroom while non-pregnant Kenny snores away.  Every single morning at 4am, my alarm clock rings one time.  I get up without complaint, without coaxing from another human and without a circus needing to happen in my bedroom.  I just don't see what's so difficult about it.

Are you ready for your fur-cut?

Sadie-kitty dashes through the living room and I wonder what's on her agenda.  One second later, Mae comes tagging after, scissors in hand, saying, "Wait, Sadie!  I'm not done!"  And just yesterday, Mae and Kyler decided to bathe their kitties.  Like, in the bathtub filled with water.  And they used actual shampoo on them.  I don't think they quite understand the term 'animal cruelty', though they just might be frequent offenders.  And no, you CAN'T have a pony, Mae.  Gosh, I can only imagine...yikes.

We have been so busy lately that my mind hasn't caught up with the month.  I keep thinking that this is the longest January ever.  And then Kyler brought me a half-slip of paper on Friday for baseball sign up.  Baseball!  Already?!  Not that I don't want it to be here; it's just that we're only halfway through the wrestling season and if my mind can't even get past January, how will it ever get to spring?  Slow down, time.  Just for a while, please.

Kenny started a new job today and I am no longer 'single mom by night'.  It is tough running two kids everywhere they need to go.  Single moms of the world, I salute you.  There are bigger decisions to be made than you would expect.  For example, Mae's tae kwon do class meets on Tuesdays and Thursdays.  Kyler's wrestling practices just so happen to be on the same days, same times (but many miles apart).  Obviously, this is a dilemma.  I had to choose which kid got to do their activity.  That's like choosing a favorite kid!!  Now, Kenny gets one kid and I get the other and the world is at peace.  Until Baby #3 is born, I suppose.

And time is up.  I only had a few minutes between washing dishes and cooking supper and now it's off to homework and eating and swim lessons and bath times and as you can plainly see, time is not slowing down.

Mouse guts and steam mops (completely unrelated).

As my energy levels continue to rise, my tolerance-for-people levels have taken a complete nosedive.  I find nearly everybody to be rude, even if all they're doing is walking.  They're not doing it right.  Or something.  Maybe their strut has too much attitude.  Either way, I find myself avoiding eye contact at all expenses.  I just can't  fake a smile or commit to a dull, weather-related conversation right now.  If you have fallen victim to my ignorance of your existence (or might in the next six months), please accept this as my pregnancy plea for forgiveness. 

What doesn't annoy me?  Good and hearty conversation with people that make me happy.  For example, my sister and I went out to birthday lunch (hers, not mine) on Saturday.  She had me doubled over with laughter and nearly choking on my food the entire time, as our children sat across the table from us and stared us down as if we were immature.  That's all I'm asking for from the entire world right now.  Is it really so much?  Thank goodness there will be another birthday lunch for another hilarious sister this coming Saturday.

While hating the entire human race, my love for animals has grown.  The kitties spend much time laying on my belly.  They have never really liked me so this is a comfort.  Kenny says (in his most dramatic voice, of course), "They know!" and it seems that they really do.  Also, the dogs no longer try to knock me over when I walk outside.  If we (people) could only be as sensitive to each other as animals are to us, we would be a better race.  Animals never feel the need to spout about the weather and they also never tell me to shut up when I'm singing.  It's no wonder that dogs are referred to as 'man's best friend'.  We all need a best friend who can't talk and is blind to our faults.

Speaking of animals, Mae spotted a new mouse-friend on Friday night.  She described it as cute and friendly and immediately began plotting how to capture this mouse and make it her pet.  The next morning, she was able to easily capture it.  Well, kind of.  Except in telling me that she 'got the mouse', she didn't sound nearly as excited about it anymore.  I asked where she put it and she replied, "In the trash.  It wasn't a real mouse anymore.  It was only a mouse-tail, mouse-butt and mouse-guts."  Ew.  But I guess the cats are doing their jobs.  And there we have it:  animals treat animals as people treat people. 

In household news, Kenny purchased our family's first ever steam mop.  He is very proud of it.  He has given each of us an individual tutorial on how to correctly use the steam mop.  On the day he brought it home, he cleaned every inch of uncarpeted floor in the house.  About an hour later, while Kenny was relaxing in front of the television, the kids came in from some outdoor playing and tracked mud across the kitchen floor.  This would normally prompt some major dad-yelling from Kenny but not on this day.  Instead, he excitedly jumped from the couch, ran to the kitchen and plugged in his steam mop.  I'm pretty sure he missed his calling as infomercial spokesperson.  I can best describe him as unpredictable and entertaining.  And thank goodness, because I have a blog to write.

Ain't No Day Like A Snow Day

This pregnancy has, thus far, been kicking my butt.  And in case you didn't already know (or gather it from the opening sentence), I am pregnant.  But alas, I am closing in on the the first trimester and for the past few days, I have wakened each morning feeling alive and happy.  The morning sickness has vanished and I no longer require fourteen hours of sleep per night.  So once again, life is peachy.

Yesterday, school was canceled due to 'weather and illness'.  When Mae and I went outside to feed the dogs in the afternoon, I couldn't help but notice that the snow on the ground was the perfect consistency for snowball-making.  I wasted no time doddling and immediately challenged Mae to a snowball fight.  Throwing her feeding pail in the general direction of the house, she grabbed up as much snow as she could handle in both arms and threw it...directly into the wind so that it flew right back in her face.  After pummeling her with about a dozen snowballs, I then took the time to properly teach her how to pack a snowball.  We then noticed Kenny and Kyler standing behind the sliding glass doors, smiling slyly.  We threw a couple of snowballs at the doors and laughed when it scared them.  What we didn't know is that they had already snuck out the front door and pre-packed a whole bucket of snowballs.  Mae and I did not have a stockpile, so when the doors slid open, all we could do was turn our backs and hide our heads as they catapulted endless snowballs at us. 

After the snowball fight, Kenny decided that we should build an igloo.  The way he suggested it made me think that he'd had prior igloo-building experience.  Wrong.  He got out the snow shovel and started digging up our yard into one giant snow pile.  His idea was to pack it all down, then dig a tunnel through it.  As the pile reached about four feet high, I told him we should pack it down.  I jumped on top of it and sank down a few inches.  Kyler followed my lead, then Mae.  There was just enough room for one more person to join in on the packing-down fun, so Kenny took the opportunity and jumped on...and fell right through.  This caused a large rupture of laughter from the rest of us and Kenny's such a good sport that he even laughed along.  It wasn't until just then that I realized that he was wearing Mae's bright purple stocking cap, complete with enlarged pom pom on top.  So many reasons to love him!

After completing the "igloo", we hauled our frozen fingers, toes and noses back into the house, created a large pile of snowy coats, scarves, gloves and hats in the doorway, then settled down for some hot cocoa and a movie. 

I wish this was a 'snow life' instead of just a 'snow day'. 

We Gonna Let It All Hang Down. Unless You're A Cop.

Here's us, driving home from swim lessons on a much-too-cold and darkened winter evening (yesterday).  Mae is in the back seat (behind me as I'm driving) playing video games.  Kyler has scored a card-collector's album from Shopko and is excitedly tearing into it with the dome light turned on just above his head.  And Eric Clapton's 'After Midnight' is on the radio.  This becomes more rare with each passing day, so I crank the radio up, grab my bottle-of-Aquafina microphone and sing my heart out.  We're happy as can be, just hip-hopping down the highway and having ourselves a rip-roaring time.  I notice a car to my left and am instantly annoyed because I can only assume that they are watching my singing performance and are, most likely, making fun of me.  I choose to ignore them as there is a pretty good chance that I don't know them and never will. 

The chorus ended right as Mae advanced to the next level in Mario Kart.  Taking a small break, Mae noticed something and blurted out loudly, "Uh oh.  Oh NO, Mom, look to your left!"  I turned my head to the annoying car in the next lane, still keeping pace with us, only to see a State Trooper beside us.  He, too, had his dome light on and I think it was on purpose just so I could see him give me his, "Really?" look.  In less than one second, the backseat light was flipped off, my hands went to 10 and 2 and my eyes were focused on the road.  I can't even say if I threw my microphone-bottle on the floor or put it back in the cup holder as I was in such a panic that I don't remember. 

Now that I was driving as safely as possible, the trooper stepped on his gas pedal and sped ahead of us.  The remaining fifteen miles it took to get home were the most boring miles I may have ever put in as far as driving time goes.  Still, paying a ticket for 'obnoxiously singing and dancing while driving' is not something I ever want to do. 

Terrors in the dark. Or not.

I woke in the dark of night to the sound of a high-pitched, blood-curdling scream in the distance.  It happened so quickly that I couldn't tell if it was real or I had just dreamed it.  Either way, I sat upright in bed, quite shaken.  Not more than a couple of seconds passed before I heard it again. 

I instinctively jumped out of bed and ran to the kids' rooms to check on them.  They were both sleeping soundly.  I walked to the back door and cautiously unlocked it.  I slid it open just far enough to pop my head out and there I stood and listened for at least two minutes.  Everything is darker in the country.  And scarier.  There are no street lights or patrolling police officers out here.  Just the two dogs who, oddly enough, were not barking at all.  The only thing I saw in the whole two minutes I stood there was my own breath.  I shut the door and relocked it.  I went to the front door and repeated the process, hearing only silence.

I checked on the kids one more time, then reluctantly headed back to bed.  As I pulled the covers over myself, I again heard the scream, just exactly as I'd heard it the first two times.  Upright again and shaking even more, I was wide awake and glanced at the clock in case I would need to report the time to the police because certainly, they would need to be called soon.  Somebody, somewhere was suffering something terrible. 

I decided that before I went to investigate again, I would wake Kenny up.  I wasn't about to head out into the darkest dark and coldest cold night all by myself.  And anyway, he's way better at dealing with trauma than I am.  As I inched nearer to him and was just about to shake his arm, I heard the scream again.

And that is when I realized that the horrific, high-pitched little girl or woman-scream was actually the sound of my husband's nighttime nose-whistle.  Needless to say, I did not get much sleep after that. 

Shootouts and resolutions.

I awoke this lovely New Year's Eve morning to the sound of guns blasting and people screaming.  I could soon hear the police reading somebody their Miranda rights. 

So, maybe I failed to mention that the blasts were mostly mouthed sounds and the guns were Nerf guns, but either way, I decided to roll out of bed.  With shootings going on the house, I thought it would be best if I was sneaky, so I slid against the dark walls of the bathroom, through the laundry room and then peaked into the living room.  Officer Kyler was putting criminal-Mae into couch-jail as Officer Kenny stood nearby with a gun pointed at her, just in case.  Once she was securely...well, secured, they decided to go look for other criminals.  Kenny said he thought he'd heard one coming from "that direction" (points toward our bedroom) and they took off, Kenny limping from a leg wound he endured when Mae shot him while she resisted arrest. 

As the brave and noble policemen exited the room from the north, I slinked in from the south and committed my very first ever jail break.  Except things didn't go as I planned and I made too much noise as I laughed insanely while abetting my partner in crime.  The two officers were able to shoot me straight in the heart at least three times and I fell to my shocked death (of course, only after seeing Mae make her great escape).  And this is pretty much how every day has gone since I started my 'Staycation' and the kids began their Christmas breaks from school.  Kenny has received many 'surprise' days off of work and we have been having the time of our lives with all of our the kids' new Christmas gifts. 

Being the last day of the year and all, this is typically where I would type out my resolutions for the upcoming year.  I've been thinking and thinking and I just don't have anything major to resolve.  I suppose I resolve to be happy?  And be fair?  And live?  And laugh?  And love?  Just like every day?  Last night, Kenny got on the subject of resolutions and said that maybe this is the year that he will quit smoking (we call this a reoccurring resolution).  So he will "quit" smoking and I will just love him no matter how many times he sneaks out the back door and leaves it hanging wide open for the cold air to filter in.  As the smell of smoke wafts throughout the entire house and fills my lungs (gag), I will remember to be fair.  I used to be a smoker.  I did the same thing.  So there it is.  My resolution is to endure Kenny's soon-to-be failed resolution with kindness and endearment.  (Not that I don't think he can't quit smoking, but he's already started in on the "after this pack" and then "no, after the next pack"...and we have maybe been through this thirteen-thousand times already. 

Life is good and swell.

It's a great day to be me.  Heck, it's a great month...no, YEAR to be me.  My most recent biggest problems consist of: I can't find the nail clippers.  Seriously, life is just so very good.  I either endured some horrid multi-tragedies in my last life, or I'm in for it in my next life.  Either way, all I can do in this life is smile and try not to wonder too much why that saying 'Life is Good' pertains so much to me. 

So, what have the Bigley's been up to?  Well, I'll tell you.

Kenny enjoys entertaining me in the mornings and early afternoons with a series of song and dance, including but not limited to:  his best high-pitched woman-voice, enthusiastic clapping and foot-stomping, exaggerated facial expressions and on special occasions, he parodies songs to fit the moment.  And sometimes he even has a dance partner (poor kitty).  I'm not sure what he's so darn excited about lately, but I'm happy that he's happy.

Kyler continues to do thorough research on every rock, animal and plant that he crosses paths with.  For the longest time (I'm talking years), I really just assumed that when he called animals by their actual names, he was simply making these names up as I had mostly never heard of them.  But now he checks out books at the library just to prove to me that these names are not just in his head.  Huh.  Who knew?

Mae, like Kenny, has been very sing-songy and dancy lately.  You should hear how her voice roars throughout the house during bath time!  Somehow, she thinks that nobody can hear her.  When she walks out of the bathroom and we all start singing the song that she'd been singing in the shower, she looks shocked and says something like, "That is SO weird because I was just singing that song in the bathroom!"   She has also been very busy creating and wrapping Christmas presents for Kenny and me.  Her room has been strictly off-limits for nearly two weeks now.  She has smuggled a roll of last year's wrapping paper and the underneath of our Christmas tree is quickly filling up with gifts that are the size of an 8x10 sheet of printer paper.  I get the feeling that my entire Christmas morning will be filled with me opening up gift after gift of sheets of paper that say, "I love you!"...but I'm quite okay with that.

The Dogs Bigley have a new home...the OUTDOORS!!  On Thanksgiving, they thought it wise to eat nearly one-hundred cookies that Mae and I lovingly made and had sitting across the counter tops.  This is not the first time this has happened.  Nor the second.  Nor third.  I was so angry when I woke up in the morning that I immediately drove to Tractor Supply Co., purchased fence, wire cutters, wire, cement mix, fence posts and a post driver and worked my butt off all the long weekend.  Oddly enough, they seem quite happy out there...except when a bunny hops by just out of their reach.

And me, well, I already told you that I'm doing just swell.  I have some pretty big surprises in store for Christmas this year.  As for Kenny's big super-secret surprise that I posted about a while back...well, the kids told him what it was.  I was a little bummed when Kenny told me that they'd spilled the secret until he said, "It'll be nice to have a push mower to get to the places the rider can't reach."  One:  that's a total lie. There's no place in our yard where the rider doesn't reach that a push mower could get to.  And two:  I didn't get him a mower.  What brilliant children I have!!  Kenny wouldn't quit hounding them about what I got him, so they totally lied and it completely threw him off. 

That's it for now.  Twenty short days until Christmas and I will be ba-humbuggin' if we don't get some snow soon!

Mae's theory on God.

We were driving home from Christmas shopping, just me and Mae.  We were excited and exhausted.  I looked in the rear view mirror to see Mae staring thoughtfully out her window, pondering away as she is so accustomed to doing.  I saw an idea spark in her eyes and she suddenly sat straight up (as opposed to her previous slunched-over postural position) and asked, "Mom?  Who decided that God gets to be God?"  I told her that I'd had that exact same thought many times.  She then asked, "And HOW did he get way up in the clouds before there were planes?"  I laughed but didn't respond.  She sat back and looked out her window again.  I figured she had already moved on to new and different thoughts and wonderments.

After a few minutes, she again shot upright, this time with a touch of wild in her eyes.  She exclaimed, "I KNOW!!!"  I asked, "Know what?"  And she said, "I know how he got up there.  God.  In the clouds."  I asked, "Oh...how?"  She explained, "Well, he's SO old, right?  So he must be SO old that he was here before gravity, just floating around and going wherever he wanted.  And one day he must have been in the clouds and that's when gravity showed up.  So he fell onto a cloud and he's been stuck up there ever since."

Mae crossed her arms, nodded her head and sat back looking quite pleased with herself.  She then moved on to new and different thoughts, having conquered her own confusion.

I really like her way of thinking.   

The fat Alpha Dog

It seems that I have taken a long and unexpected break from my blog.  Vegas will do that to you.  Somehow, I was the sole person in all of Nevada with no internet access.  I'm still not sure why that happened.  And as much as I'd love to blog about the time I spent there, I can't.  The slogan says so.

It's good to be home.  I missed my kids, my house, my dogs, my cats...and my PILLOW.  I've never been a fan of the smothering pillows piled across the beds at hotels.  No matter which way I lay, I can't seem to breathe and that just so happens to be very necessary.  And to let my pillow know just how happy I was to be home, I gave it a good hug and then slept like the dead for twelve hours straight.  Vegas will do that to you, too. 

Kenny is pretty darn proud of the ten pounds he gained while away.  It is the most weight he has gained in all the years I've known him, including the six months he added weight-gainer milkshakes to two meals per day.  Yeah, I know...poor guy.  He is putting in great effort to ensure the weight stays with him by spending much idle time on the couch with a collage of potato chips, lil' smokies and Nutrageous bars on his lap.  I, on the other hand, gained an equal amount of weight so while he is sitting on the couch coveting his new found fat (which is really just a slightly swelled six-pack), I am running and sweating and crying and dying on the treadmill, regretting every last calorie of last week's margaritas and endless buffets.

Settling back into normal life, Mae asked me sweetly if I would paint her left-handed fingernails today.  I agreed.  As I touched the polish brush to the first nail, she jumped back and screamed, "OOOUuuuuCHHH!!!  She gave me a very stern look and told me to be more careful.  While stunned, I agreed, though I had no idea what I'd done to hurt her.  So I slowly and gently pressed the brush to her nail again...and AGAIN she jumped back and yelled, "OW!!  MOM!!!  WHY DO YOU KEEP HURTING ME?!!"  I was completely baffled.  I apologized profusely and told her that I didn't mean to hurt her and if she'd just tell me how I was hurting her, I'd make sure it didn't happen again.  She said, "Well, it BETTER not."  And then, she smiled just a little and said very quietly, "Man, you can never tell when I'm joking."  She was SO pleased with herself.

The neighbors' dogs have been spending a great deal of time in our yard this week.  Since I am not a fan of german shepards, I have basically not left the house.  Common sense would tell me to just release our dogs outdoors to 'take care of the situation', but not me.  No.  Instead, I release the Kenny.  It is much more entertaining.  He runs after them, barking and growling.  He even chased one around the entire pond a couple days ago.  I sat in the window with a bag of popcorn and enjoyed every second of it.  And he gets the job done.  Those dogs go right home...except the one that was so terrified of him that she couldn't find her way home, so she went and sat outside of the gate for the duration of the day.  Kenny has officially claimed his spot as 'Alpha Dog' in our strange little country neighborhood.  Add that to his new fat and he's a pretty happy camper these days. 

And that's about it.  I have too many thoughts in my head that have yet to be un-jumbled so until that happens, I'll just call it good.

My children: polar opposites

Kyler and Mae wake up at the exact same time. 

Kyler feeds his cats and gets dressed before he even leaves his bedroom.  Mae mosies out of her room, wiping her eyes and yawning.  She fills the dog's water dish and spills at least half of it across the kitchen floor.  She feeds the dogs, also spilling at least half of their food across the kitchen floor. 

Kyler and Mae get ready for breakfast.  Kyler pours a bowl of cereal, adds milk, grabs a spoon and starts eating.  Mae sits down and in a whiny voice inquires, "Mom, what can I eat?"  I'm prepared for this and I answer, "We have three different kinds of cereal and two kinds of oatmeal.  You can make eggs.  You can make toast.  You can make eggs and toast together.  You can have a bagel or you can even make a sandwich."  She yawns again and says, "That's ALL?"  As Kyler's rinsing his bowl, she finally decides on cereal. 

Kyler brushes his teeth, puts on his glasses and checks his backpack to ensure he has everything he needs while Mae is eating breakfast.  She finishes and exits the kitchen, leaving her milk-filled bowl sitting at the table.

Kyler pulls on his socks and his shoes, then tells me he's going to read a book for thirty minutes.  Noticing the unusual silence, I walk into Mae's room to find her changing her doll's diaper.  She's still in her jammies.  I tell her she has thirty minutes until we leave and she should probably think about getting dressed.  She fires back with, "I don't have ANYTHING to wear."  I look toward her dresser filled with drawers of stretchy pants, jeans, skirts and skorts.  I then look toward her closet where multiple dresses and at least twenty shirts hang.  She notices this and says, "Well, I don't have anything I WANT to wear."

I go back to my desk to work and about five minutes pass before Mae yells from her room, "Mom, I need you to get something off of the top of my wardrobe that I can't reach."  I ask her if it's something she plans on wearing because all she needs to focus on at this time is getting dressed.  She replies with a simple, "Yes."  So, I go into her bedroom once again.  I see no clothing on her wardrobe so I ask what I'm supposed to retrieve for her and she says, "My Magic 8 Ball."  I say, "You told me it was something you were wearing," and she says, "Well, it's going to tell me what to wear."  I roll my eyes and hand her the Magic 8 Ball.  She says, "Is my mom a big, giant turd?", then she shakes the ball and says, "Yes, it is certain!!  Mom, you are!  I KNEW it!!"

I go back to my desk.  About ten minutes later, Mae comes out of her bedroom and by some sort of Thursday miracle, she is dressed.  I tell her, "Now brush your hair and brush your teeth," and she puts her elbows on my desk and her hands under her chin and says, "Tell me about the day I was born."  I give her a look and she decides she better just listen this time, so she heads for the bathroom, though all hunched over and dragging her feet.

It is almost time to go now so I tell Mae that she needs to check her backpack and put on her shoes, socks and jacket.  She completely ignores me, looks at Kyler and says, "Kyler, you NERD, are you actually reading in the MORNING?!"  Kyler's maturity level exceeds even my own, so he just ignores her and continues his reading.  Seeing that she cannot get a fight out of him, she decides that now is a good time to stare in awe at her new ant farm.  After a very long moment, I tell her, "Backpack, shoes, socks, jacket.  Now."  She says, "I tried to eat an ant once when I was little.  It was a black one.  I never told you about it."  I set her backpack, shoes, socks and jacket right next to her and give her a one-minute warning. 

Kyler now has bookmarked his spot in his book and is fully ready and waiting to walk out the door.  Mae slowly pulls her socks on, complaining that they are not the ones she planned to wear today (yeah, like I'd ever believe that she PLANNED something) and as Kyler and I stand there watching her, she says, "What're you guys staring at?!" 

We finally make it out to the Jeep, get inside, start driving and Mae says, "Mom, I forgot my assignment book!"  I slam on the brakes and she runs inside to get it.  We start the leaving process over.  Halfway down the driveway, Mae says, "Mom, I forgot my homework!"  I slam on the brakes again and let out a long sigh and say, "You've GOT to be kidding me!"  I put the Jeep in reverse and start backing up when Mae says, "Yeah, I am.  I didn't even have homework.  You should know that."

Every morning that we make it to the bus stop before (or at the same time as) the bus, I am amazed.  I wonder if the bus driver knows just exactly what it takes to make this happen.  We're almost always somehow on time, so he probably has no idea that each and every school morning is a roller coaster for us.  Are there other 'Mae's' out there?  Do other parents deal with this constant morning drama every single day?  I'd like to know.  Maybe we could start a support group.  PORFF:  Parents Of Refusing and Resistant Children.  We'll meet in secret and  work on our coping techniques together.

Super-secret mission is cause for super-human strength.

I have a super-secret mission to accomplish today.  I can't fully tell you what it is, but it requires sole use of the Jeep.  Nope, not taking the kids mudding...we did that two weeks ago (on accident).  I just need to pick up a very large Christmas gift for Kenny and it won't fit in the trunk of the car.

Kenny woke up less than one hour before he had to leave for work today.  He paced around the house, drinking his coffee and talking about the day ahead of him.  When there was less than thirty minutes to go, he caught a glimpse of the headlight bulbs sitting on the counter that he had purchased last night.  This caused him to remember that the driver's side headlight in the car is out.  He grabbed the new bulbs and decided that now was the perfect time to take on this project.  He walked out the front door and I could already see that I was going to have to fight for the Jeep, and without giving off any notion that I need it (remember: TOP secret.) 

Five minutes later, Kenny stormed inside, slammed the door and proclaimed, "I'm taking the Jeep today.  The stupid headlight won't come out and there's not room to fix it unless I take the whole battery out and I don't have time for that right now!"  That's actually only part of what he said, but I had to edit out all of the swear words.  This is a family blog.  (Also, he whines just like Mae).  His plan was to just leave the tools outside and the hood propped open until tomorrow, when he has more time. 

Alarmed at the thought of him taking the much-needed Jeep, I clocked out for an early lunch.  Not wanting to look suspicious, I told Kenny, "Well, it has to be fixed before you leave because I have to take the kids trick-or-treating."  I pulled on my rain boots (to avoid the hassle of tying laces)  and raced outside.  Since this was basically a pressing emergency, I took full advantage of the extra adrenaline that flowed within me and quickly shimmied the headlight out.  It took approximately two seconds before I was popping the cap off to get to the bulb and unscrewing the screws.  Kenny, who had been watching from indoors, then came outside and announced that, "I can take over from here"  and, "When did you get so strong?"  He looked afraid, and rightly.  If I had felt the dire need to jump directly through a brick wall at the moment, I bet I could have.  That's just what happens when a woman needs to get something done.  I shuddered a little when he said, "Wow, you really want to take the kids trick-or-treating, don't you?" 

So, tragedy averted.  The Jeep is mine and my secret is still secret, except the kids will have to be a part of this mission so they, too, will know.  And most likely blow the surprise before Christmas.  But at least it will still be a surprise at some point.