Sleepy Hollow alert

Fiddledaddy has been a busy little bee this Fall, in his attempt to hunt and gather food for our little family.  He appeared in a couple of television shows, Sleepy Hollow and Resurrection.  Both of which scare the pee-pee out of me, but I’ve become addicted to them while doing research (use of air quotes) for Fiddledaddy’s upcoming episodes.

Which were fantastic.  By the way.  Only I forgot to toot a horn announcing them in advance.  I would make a horrible publicist.

Alas I just discovered that his Sleepy Hollow episode will air tonight (Monday).  So toot-toot.  He plays the dad of a missing little girl.  Can’t tell you what happens.

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(Is it wrong that I watch Sleepy Hollow through my fingers while curled up in a tight ball on the couch?)

DeeDeeSig

The day my son broke Wal-Mart

Walmart

I have a Sunday morning ritual that serves me well.  I drop my two teenaged daughters off at church early on Sunday morning so they can attend their own Youth service and be present for their respective volunteer duties.  Then I head to Wal-Mart to hunt and gather the weeks groceries.  (And before you begin, after the shopping trip, I dash home, drop the groceries, grab Fiddledaddy and son, and head back to church in time for the 2nd service.)

This has several benefits.  A) Most importantly, I employ the “divide and conquer” mode of warding off the inevitable stress of Sunday morning getting-ready-for-church drama.  The two teenagers get their drama out of the way by SEVEN PLUS CHANGE A.M.  Then we are generally gone before Fiddledaddy and Junior even stir.  B)  AWESOME PARKING SPACES can be found early at Wal-Mart and NO CROWDS, and C) having the teenagers serving as volunteers alleviates most of the guilt I might feel since I no longer serve in the children’s ministry.

(And for the record, I now serve on the Design Committee.  Which is why words have been scarce in this neck of the woods over the last few weeks.  What with Christmas sets and decorations to be made for the church.  And further for the record, I don’t so much design, as execute, what the Design Committee envisions.  So in essence, I’m on the Execution Team at church.  I like this term far better.)

(I will expound on our latest project later in the week.  When I’m quite certain that what I actually executed, you know, actually works. But it involved painting and power tools.  Two of my favorite things.)

Anyhoo.  On this particular Sunday morning, I needed to take young Jensen with me to Wal-Mart.  I avoid this scenario whenever possible because, well, if you’ve been here for any length of time, you know that if some disaster occurs at a public outing, Jensen is usually present.

Besides, I do love grocery shopping alone.  Just me, my coupons, my color-coordinated shopping list (arranged by aisle), and my neurosis.  Do not judge me.

Jensen is a rather high-maintenance, high octane, high energy sort of boy.  Wal-Mart provides SO MANY OPPORTUNITIES for inappropriate.  And he’s fast now.  Really fast.

We made it through this particular shopping experience without too much peril.  He was perturbed that I wouldn’t allow him to purchase a vat of fine point markers, and in giving me a hard time, I may or may not have grounded him until Jesus returns.  But, we were about to make our exit unscathed.

The cart was loaded to the gills, and after I checked out, I asked him to commandeer the cart while I fished my keys out from the black hole also known as my purse.  He took off like a race horse out of the gate.  With the fully loaded cart before him.  I yelled (yes, I yelled in Wal-Mart) at him to stop running, as I envisioned an elderly patron rounding the corner just as he were to crash into him/her.  He stopped at the corner, turned to look at me as I hurried my pace to take over the driving duties.  Then he hunkered down, turned the corner, and made a mad dash toward the exit.

This is when everything seemed to move in slow motion.  He was aimed at the closed automatic exit doors.  Doors that I know from experience do not spring open in the heat of the moment.  I yelled (again), and to his credit, he did try to stop.  And he failed.  He crashed right into the sliding automatic doors, still in the closed position, knocking them completely off the track.  For just a moment, I was glad that I did not have wine in the cart.

A rather horrified 9 year old looked back at his ashen mother.  A mother, who did consider for a moment, exiting through the fully intact entrance doors and pretending not to know the child who just broke Wal-Mart.

He apologized a good million times, and I made him march himself back into Wal-Mart to tell an employee what had just transpired.  She smiled, like it happened all the time.  I was rather hoping for security to be dispatched.  The security that carries an actual GUN.  But I don’t think we have anything like that at our Wal-Mart.  Pity.

On the bright side, I think we’ve come a long way since Wal-Mart trips of old.  At least this time I didn’t make the news…

DeeDeeSig

Camp Cailey

To put things in perspective, this is how Cailey looked when I began this blog.

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She was five.  I closed many of my older posts because my blog was rather bloated with ALL THE WORDS.  But some of my favorite posts about Cailey included her penchant for exacting revenge on unsuspected siblings with the use of boogers.  I remember the early years when she took a shine to a particular boy who only liked to wear one shoe.  A concerned Emme confided in me, “Mom, why does she like him, he PICKS HIS NOSE.”  I thought, well, at least they share an interest.

A couple of weeks ago we celebrated that little pistol’s THIRTEENTH birthday.  Since 13 is a momentous occasion, I threw all caution to the wind and agreed to host a birthday party.  Since we’re on a budget, I knew it had to be a creative birthday party.

Between my 3 children, I can count on one hand the number of birthday parties that I’ve thrown.  I’ve gotten away with LET’S GO TO DISNEY WORLD for nearly all of their birthdays.  Which is a wonderful treat.  But I knew that Cailey’s heart’s desire was to celebrate with her sweet posse of giggly girlfriends.  And she is truly blessed with a gang of adorable fellow teens and tweens.

I sold her on the idea of Camp Cailey because I thought it would be fun (and NOT EXPENSIVE) to set up the camping equipment in our postage stamp sized back yard.  Cailey helped to organize camp-style backyard games such as Musical Camping Chairs, Paint a Pet Rock, and general story telling and much frivolity.

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Because I overestimated what needed to be done and underestimated the time it would take to get everything ready, about 30 minutes before the girls were to arrive I suffered a near-fatal mental breakdown.  I wish I were kidding.  My girlfriend, Andrea, texted me at that moment to see if there was anything I needed.  I replied, “I’m in over my head.  Help.”  She texted back, “I’m on my way.”  And in that moment I knew everything was going to be okay.

And it was.

The party was scheduled from 4 until 9 that evening.  Because I’m insane.  I finally did the math, and that was FIVE HOURS OF PARTY.  There was nothing to worry about, as the time was filled with festive eating of Ants on a Log, Chili Dogs, Chips, and what have you.  After dark we put a movie on in the tent (on our old TV with a VCR) and the girls huddled up with blankets and watched a princess movie.  Afterwards, a camp fire was lit and s’mores were consumed.

As moms and dads arrived to take their campers home, a friend of mine remarked, “Wow, your yard looks great!”  (You would laugh if you knew of our yard-keeping inabilities.)  I said, “Yes, in the dark and if you squint, it’s not bad!”

Cailey had the best birthday party ever, spent with precious friends.

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It is hard for me to believe that my baby girl is a tall and lanky teenager now.  We can only hope that when the right time comes, she’ll be attracted to a young Godly man who wears both shoes.  And perhaps one who keeps his fingers out of his nose.

I am so going to owe her a hundred dollars for this post.

DeeDeeSig

Where there’s a will…

Jensen is still on lizard restriction.  It’s been a long long 3 months.  The biggest reason for this harsh punishment (besides the greatly reduced lizard population that we feel is necessary for bug control in our backyard) is that Jensen often has open sores on his hands.  This is a result of his Atopic Dermatitis.  He has come a long long way, and for the most part, his skin is under control.  But the hands have taken the brunt of the affliction, as he has a hard time not picking at the skin when it begins to heal.

His dermatologist issued the edict “no handling of lizards, snakes, bugs, frogs, and alligators.”  We are simply the messengers.  And the enforcers.

We went camping with dear friends to celebrate Emme’s 15th birthday last week.  This is our first time camping since All The Florida Hot and since Lizard Restriction.  Jensen has one of his best buddies with him to do his bidding.  Jensen located the creatures.  His buddy did the capturing.

Jensen did find a way to enjoy the fruits of his labor up close and personal.  I wanted to share the experience with you.

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I would also like to report that I left my frozen cocktails at home in the freezer.  Special thanks to Michelle for bringing extra and for the Fort Wilderness snack bar for serving a delightful concoction for a mere $8.25.  WORTH IT.

DeeDeeSig

A Quick Note from the Cheap Linoleum

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I’ve received some really really sweet notes from you all regarding my whereabouts and checking to make sure I’m okay.  I am!  I’m just up to my eyeballs in the day-to-day dealings of a homeschool mom with TWO TEENAGERS and a reluctant 4th grader.

I wanted to post proof (above) that I’m alive and well and haven’t killed anyone.  Fiddledaddy is pictured as well, so you can know that he’s alive and well and surviving TWO TEENAGERS and a MENOPAUSAL WIFE.  (This was taken over the weekend at our church’s Trunk or Treat celebration.  I was Minnie Mom.)

I will begin micro-blogging this week.  Pinky swear.  I say “micro” because as Fiddledaddy reminds me, IT DOESN’T HAVE TO BE WAR & PEACE.  (Not that I’ve ever been one to gild the lily.)

Missing you all!!!

DeeDeeSig

Dolphin Tale 2

I thought I’d like to dust off my keyboard and let you all know I haven’t fallen into a Florida sinkhole.  I just needed to cut myself a healthy portion of slack and not pressure myself to sit in front of an empty screen and be all, OH LOOK AT ALL THAT WHITE SPACE.  Especially when I got nothin’.

The honest truth is homeschooling 3 kids, with one in high school, got a whole lot harder this year.  And what with ALL THE SOCIAL, I hardly have time to string together real words.  Next time someone quizzes me about my children’s potential lack of socialization because of homeschooling, I’m going to punch them in the throat.

Which reminds me.  All three kids are doing swim team this year.  Yes.  Three.  This means that Jensen, who swore he’d NEVER be on swim team because he’d rather die catch lizards during the girls’ practice time, is on the swim team.  And loving it.  He’s still on lizard restriction, so I’m sure that swayed his decision.  His fear of being bored at swim practice.

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We call him the bullet.

And now I need to do a little bragging.  One of Fiddledaddy’s jobs is that of actor.  Last Fall he was able to travel to Clearwater, Florida to film a small cameo role in Dolphin Tale 2, which just opened last weekend.  He plays a morning show host who appears about three quarters of the way through.  The casting breakdown described this role as “chirpy shallow comedic morning show host.”  I think he nailed it.  He’s adorable.

He had an opportunity to attend the Clearwater premiere a couple of weeks ago.  I knew it would be a very late night, and I don’t do late very well, so we determined that his date should be Emme.  I don’t think she slept for 3 days before the event.  So exciting.  And it was her first time to wear heals.

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On the blue carpet…

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The really big stars attended the Los Angeles premiere a few days prior, but the younger stars were in attendance in Clearwater.  Emme got to meet a lot of the sweet people that her dad worked with.  It was such a great working experience for him.

I took the rest of my crew to see the film with some of my friends and their kids on opening weekend.  I think my favorite moment was looking over at my son, sitting with his favorite friends, beaming when his daddy came on the screen.

We really are so proud of this movie and Fiddledaddy.  It is an awesome family film.  I give it two thumbs up and a whoop-whoop.  :)  #notbiased

DeeDeeSig

The Wisdom Teeth Should Fetch a Pretty Penny

I’ve never understood how the teeth in the back of your head, which are more than likely impacted, and if not impacted, don’t appear until your early teens when wisdom is often fleeting, are called Wisdom Teeth.

Nevertheless, we learned earlier in the year that Emme, who is teetering on the brink of 15, needed her 4 wisdom teeth removed, as they were impacted and crowding out her fairly straight teeth.  Plus causing some pain and suffering.  After learning of the cost of removing said teeth, we considered rendering the same offer we gave her a couple of years earlier when she had 4 stubborn baby teeth that needed to be removed.  Ten bucks for each tooth if she did it herself.

The same child that created a scene of carnage that any horror movie special affects person would appreciate when losing her first tooth, got those 4 teeth out within a week.  Netting herself $40.  Worth it, as the dentist office wanted $100 bucks a tooth.

The Tooth Fairy in our house, when she isn’t falling down on the job, only shells out a buck a tooth.  And for the record, the children no longer officially believe in the Tooth Fairy, but instead enjoy the look of horror on their mother’s face when she misses a visit to sneak a tooth out from under a pillow.  The job simply became too treacherous as two of the children live on the top bunk in their respective rooms.  And the Tooth Fairy likes to turn in early.  Nowadays, they baggie and date the lost tooth themselves and hand it to me.  I say this loses some of the childhood magic, but this way they are guaranteed the dollar.

Where was I?

Oh yes.  Wisdom teeth.  I really intended to schedule Emme’s surgery for the summer when there was no school and fewer activities, but I blinked and OH LOOK, IT’S AUGUST.  I had set the appointment up for a couple of weeks back, but had to reschedule when a head cold was eminent.  And it’s not like she planned the illness because we simply didn’t tell her about the surgery.  We don’t prefer to give her too much lead time to obsess, worry, panic, revise her will, or run away.

And it wasn’t like we were just going to spring it on her that morning, WAKE UP, IT’S A BEAUTIFUL DAY, YOU’RE GOING TO HAVE SURGERY THIS MORNING.  We planned to tell her a couple of days prior.  But when I had to reschedule, she caught wind of it, giving her plenty of time to discuss it with friends who all recounted their own personal horror stories.  She was pretty sure she was going to die.  Or swell up like a puffer fish.

She also had opportunity to watch episodes of 19 Kids and Counting and Duck Dynasty in which teenaged family members had their wisdom teeth removed on camera.  She decided she wanted NO PART of laughing gas and/or photographic evidence.  And she heard rumors that her own mother SANG to the doctor while on laughing gas 10 years prior.  And since this was the same doctor, she wanted to take no chances of history repeating.

She had the surgery bright and early last Friday morning.  It was decided that Fiddledaddy would attend while I took one for the team and conducted homeschooling duties with the other two at home.  Emme, who was diagnosed with asthma earlier this year (fun times as I have YET to find the humor and write about it), has had a few impromptu fainting jags, and at this point, all I can do is step over her on my way to get help.  And there is always the threat of post surgery vomit.  If that were the case, everyone would be stepping over me.

The surgery went off without a hitch, since her roots were not wrapped around stuff they shouldn’t be.  But Emme was later dismayed that her doctor did not give her the teeth as a parting gift.  {She did receive two fresh muffins from Perkins, and they were DELIGHTFUL.}  She also came home with a black ice head wrap which happened to match her surgical outfit she painstakingly selected the night prior.

Her dad let her FaceTime me on the drive home, and she looked pitiful.  I couldn’t understand a word she spoke, but I was awfully glad that we had stocked the freezer with no fewer than 3 gallons of ice cream.  She had requested Peanut Butter flavor, so that she was assured her nut allergy-infested siblings wouldn’t want to share.

Her doctor told us to get her on normal food as soon as possible, and not to let her lay around all day.  He said that the kids who recover the fastest, do so with Motrin, a regular diet, and normal activities.  By the afternoon, my girl looked pretty normal.  And she began planning her social calendar for the week.  She was a trooper.

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There has been very minimal swelling.  She was disheartened by All The Sore on Sunday, but an afternoon visit by one of her bestest girlfriends cheered her up greatly.  Laughter is truly the best medicine.

Copious amounts of Motrin make for a close second.

I think we got off very easy with this particular patient (except for the bill, which aged me).  It’s the next two I worry about.  I’m thinking we might up the ante and offer them a small sum to get their own wisdom teeth out.

DeeDeeSig

The Christmas List

Nevermind that it’s still August.  Or that our Crocs are still sticking to the asphalt.  My son has already taken it upon himself to make his Wish List for Christmas.

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As you might see, he’s still in the dinosaur phase.  I believe we’re going on 3 or 7 years now.  I’ve lost count.  But what you might have noticed if you look beyond the spelling errors, is something a bit new.

Jensen is still on Lizard restriction.  He cannot seize, catch, hunt, or track reptilians in our yard.  Or anyone else’s (as we found we must be very specific).  My apologies to the elderly neighbors who may have spotted a 9 year old boy in camouflage skulking around their rain gutters.  Also, all televised viewing which contained episodes of animal violence have been removed from his Netflix lineup.

In their stead, Fiddledaddy placed Animal Planets Too Cute into Netflix for Jensen’s viewing pleasure.  This is a tug at your heartstrings type of show which features liters of tiny puppies and kittens.  There was one particular breed which caught Jensen’s fancy; Bengal Kittens.

One night last week while I was out shuttling teenagers to and fro (this is a whole new aspect of homeschooling a high schooler which deserves a post of its own), I received a text from Fiddledaddy about Jensen’s brand new obsession.   It began with a link to the cat breed in question.

The conversation went as follows:

Me:  Stop it!!!

Him:  I know.  I’m canceling Netflix.

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Me:  WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

Him:  Help me.

Me:  Step away from the internet.

Him:  I’m holding a weeping boy who is negotiating away all toys for Christmas if only he could have a Bengal Cat.

Me:  Tell him we will get him a snake.

And for the record, the No Pet Clause is still safely in place.  I love the idea that the only things I have to keep alive in the house is the husband and the children.  The boys tried to give me some mumbo jumbo about this particular cat (which can set you back a couple thousand, btw) being hypo-allergenic.  Phhhttttt.  This is so NOT my first rodeo.

Legos for Christmas.  What would be wrong with Legos for crying out loud?

DeeDeeSig

My view of life from the linoleum.