Tuesday Morning Facts.

1.  I believe I have an ear infection.

2.  I did not fall asleep until 2am.

3.  Today is Field Trip Day/Going to Town Day/Grocery Shopping Day/Trying to Sneak in School at My Parents' House Whilst in Town Day/Awana Day/Every Other Errand Known to Man Day.

4.  This seems fitting for today:

(source)

5.  I am guest posting today over at Sweet Peas and Buddies.  Guest Posting makes me wee nervous.

ATTENTION DAD:

DO NOT BE ALARMED!  THERE ARE MULTIPLE BLOGS IN THE WORLD, PROBABLY MILLIONS, IN FACT.  I HAVE WRITTEN A POST FOR TODAY AND IT IS JUST IN A DIFFERENT LOCATION.  EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE OKAY.

Alright.  That being said, please come and visit me over at Sweet Peas and Buddies.

CLICK HERE.

Guest posts make my tummy feel all nervous-like.

Please go see me over there . . .  I would greatly appreciate it!  Thank you!

Happy Tuesday.

UPDATE:  I published this and just realized today is Wednesday.  Is that a foretelling of how today will go?

Happy WEDNESDAY.

The Back Forty

I ended up getting sick.  Let us all have a moment of pity for me.

Thank you.

Luckily, I fell ill during the weekend whilst my noble husband was home.  Snow fell the entire day on Saturday.  This completely ruined Mr. Lumberjack's life.  You see, dear readers, Mr. Lumberjack needs to be doing something.  And that something has to be ridiculous . . . or, to him, it is not worth doing at all.

Oh, sure.  I had several ideas for things we could do.

Spring cleaning?

Organize our important papers?

Go through the closets?

No.  He will have none of it.

On Sunday, however, the snow ceased to fall.  And a world of possibilities opened up for him.  Regrettably, Sunday was the day I felt the worst.  Like the kind man that he is, he sent me off to bed and said he was taking the kids outside.

To do what, you ask?  I simply cannot say.  I've learned, dear readers, that it is best not to inquire of such things.  For I usually won't approve and will spend the rest of the day bemoaning the fact that we are now truly hillbillies.

As I was "resting," the children came in one by one, each slamming the door and leaving a trail of muddy boots and wet jackets behind them.  A couple of hours went by and my Lumberjack had not come in.

It was well-past lunch time and I, the poor sick dear that I was, had to get up and feed the children.  I was a bowl full of sunshine as I pulled out some leftovers, left them on the counter and said,

"These are your choices.  I am making nothing else and you are eating nothing else until dinner."

Because I am warm and loving, didn't you know?  I tried looking out the window to ascertain what in the world my husband was doing.  I could hear the bulldozer and deduced that he was plowing the driveway.  And that, dear readers, is fine and nothing to get in a huff about.  Even if I was sickly.

As I was doing the dishes, I looked out the window and noticed this:

My husband's truck wench working ueber hard to pull something up.

And I went back to doing dishes.  Because, dear readers, this is life here.  I was not surprised in the least to see my husband had gotten himself stuck somewhere.  Then I had to laugh that I thought it was completely normal to see such a site.

I followed the line to see what my manly man was up to on such a lovely Sunday afternoon.

The dozer.  Of course.  But why, pray tell, is my husband bull dozing the back 40 and not the driveway?

I know not.

As he was trying to pull the dozer out of the snow, I noticed the dozer tipping.  I totally thought it was going to fall over and crush him.  But every time I rush out there with my safety concerns, he laughs at my foolishness and says:

"Yeah.  Whatever, Teller."

So, I went back to sweeping.  As per my usual custom.

As I was cleaning and feeling generally sorry for myself, Sweet Pea, bless her heart, entertained the boys with stories, songs, and prayer time.  Because she is trying to do a better job than I, apparently, with the rearing of the boys.

That's Little Dude praying.  His prayers are pretty cute and usually just involve a rundown of the day.

"And thank you-thank you that we go 'side.  And eat wunch.  And read books.  And Mommy not talking to us?  And A-men."

Ha!  And mommy not talking to us . . . Poor boy.  My throat hurt!  I did not want to talk!

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I noticed new sounds coming from my husband's giant playground.

He hath loosed himself from the treacherous snow and was off to do . . . whatever it is he was doing.  Which was certainly not plowing, since that is nowhere near the driveway my friends.

You see him looking at me?  That is not the look of loving adoration, which is how he usually looks at me.  Nay.  It is a look that says:

"Why on earth must this woman photograph and record every mundane detail  of our lives?"

But I care not.  I have not left the house in 8 days and I need SOMETHING to do.

I think he is trying to level the land so we can prepare it for chickens.  Because, have you heard?  We are totally making the switch to complete and utter country folks.  It was inevitable, folks.

***

Later he came inside.

David:  Why aren't you in bed?

Me:  Um . . . we have four kids?  They need care?

David:  Well, I will take care of them.  Go to bed.

Me:  What are you doing out there?

David:  I thought I was a gone-er.

Me:  Why?

David:  Did you see the dozer?  It almost fell on me!

Marrying David.  Not for the faint of heart.

***

In other news . . . I saw this humorous little thing and put it on my sister's Facebook wall and tagged my mother in it.

(source)

Because it exactly like being in their house.  And usually, we have to call Meagan, aka MegaTech, to let us know what my parents' passwords are.

Amazingly, mother saw this on the Facebook and wrote:

"What's WIFI?"

Now, dear readers, I do not know if she was serious or not, but it was epic.

Happy Monday!

Mar-FA Speaks

Last time we chatted, Little Dude wasn't a bit sick.  This has changed and the poor chap is weak and weary.  You know how I know he is sick?

Because he is TAKING A NAP IN WHICH SLEEPING IS INVOLVED.  I'm really quite worried.  A trip to the ER might be in order.

Let us discuss the dogs.  Tank and Miley, if you will.

They feel they belong to the girls and only the girls.  The other night, the girls were in their room with the door closed.  The dogs were in the depths of despair, standing forlorn outside their door, just staring at it.

Tank is especially protective of his girls.  If David goes to load the fire late at night, which is near the girls' room, out comes Tank, struttin' his stuff, barking at the obvious intruder.

If I go to the bathroom( which happens, oh, 4.2 million times in the middle of the night because I have had four children and that's that),  up the stairs comes Mr. Ferocious to inform me that I am also an intruder.

If the lights are off, Tank barks.

If a rabbit breathes, Tank barks.

If a leaf falls, Tank barks.

If nothing happens, Tank barks.

If, however, a rabbit is loose, Tank goes back to sleep.  Tank is too lazy to actually be a dog.  He just enjoys feigning to be one.

Tank has gas.  It is getting to be a problem.  I spend all my time near him with my shirt covering my face.  And, as Erin cleverly mentioned, he should be called Gas Tank.  Let us all share a giggle because Erin is punny.  And we love her, yes we do.

So, there you go.  The Dog Update.  Let's move on.

Last night, I decided to read the Bible to the kids.  The girls had been doing a lesson earlier on John 11, which is the story of Lazarus, so I decided to read that story.

As I was reading, I come to the names "Mary" and "Martha."

HD (bewildered): Mar-FA?

Me:  Yes.  Martha.

HD:  Oh!  Mar-FA!  Like that talking dog!

(source)

Me:  Huh?

Sweet Pea:  It's a TV show, Mom.

So that was humorous.  We went on with the story and it named Thomas, the disciple.

HD:  Thomas??

Me:  Yes.  Thomas.

HD:  Oh!  THOMAS!  Like that nice, blue train!

(source)

In completely unrelated news, I am pondering whether or not it would be beneficial to keep the boy back from kindergarten next year.

Because, yikes.

Happy Friday!

Grandpa Grandpa

My girls felt a little sick yesterday and had fevers.  Both were complaining of headaches and sore throats.  So we took the rest of the day off from school (darn).  At lunch time, I was feeling like a Susie Fantastic when I whipped out my homemade chicken noodle soup from the freezer.

Because this is now the WOMAN I have become.  I, Teller Maliblahblah, am no longer a girl, but a true grown up WOMAN.

Homemade chicken noodle soup. BAM!

I'm like the mom from Everybody Love Raymond, aren't I?

(source)

And I felt pretty WOMAN-ly when I had to clean chunks of the aforementioned homemade soup out of the sink after a sick tummy decided it no-likey.  Such is life.  Everyone is sick except for me and Little Dude.

But Little Dude is a punk.

Albeit a cute punk.

Last night, David, who is also sick, fell asleep in bed around 9pm.  Sweet Pea, who was really sick that afternoon, had slept all day, so she was wide awake and came in bed with me.  We watched Little House on the Prairie, as per our usual custom.  At 11:30, I was almost asleep when Daisy Mae came upstairs.  Her heart was pounding, she was dizzy, and her fever was 103.9.  So, I made Sweet Pea a bed on the floor and put Daisy Mae in between David and I and turned on another rousing episode of Little House on the Prairie.

Cue Tank and Miley with their ceaseless panting and passing of gas.

Lest any of you are confused, Tank and Miley are dogs.

It was a lovely night full of peace and pleasantries.

So, today, I have three children with fevers and one child who is feeling ever-so-spunky.

This is Little Dude's usual stance.  If I ask him to do something, he plants his feet, makes his voice very deep and shouts:

"Yes, Mom!  Superman to pick up his dirty clothes!"

And off he goes to do anything but pick up his dirty clothes.

I had the children sit down and write out letters to their grandparents.  I know, I know.  Daughter-in-law of the year.  This may surprise you, but my boys do not yet write.  So I just wrote down what they said.

And, naturally, I must share what Little Dude said.

***

Dear Grandpa/Grandpa:

Little Dude refers to both Grandma and Grandpa as Grandpa/Grandpa.  I'm sure it doesn't offend my ma-in-law in the least.

Thank you for the lovely dinner.  (Not sure?  He was supposed to thank them for his Valentine's Card)

I go outside.  I play inside.  GO TO SLEEP! says Grandpa.

He stayed the night with grandpa/grandpa a long time ago and I know he had trouble "obeying" and sleeping, so maybe that is his one memory?  Not sure.

I like pizza.  I go to Lisa's (his aunt) and play in the couch.

I love you.

***

Later on today, he did his Superman pose and came and informed me of a disaster.

"Mom!  Come quick!  Quick!  Emergency!  The trampoline flew on the garage!"

And off he flew to save the day.  I, of course, did not believe him, because, hello, he thinks he is Superman, but I did come and look, just for the sake of humoring him.

And wouldn't you know it, he was telling the truth.

Huh.

Maybe he is Superman after all?

And, no.  I did not put it back.  I might be all WOMAN now and all, but my husband is all that is MAN and God gave him those muscles for a reason.

I will, however, throw in an offer to help, just for good measure.

***

Little Dude is "napping" right now. And I use the phrase "napping" quite loosely. Little Dude stopped sleeping during naptimes a couple of months ago, but I still make him sit in his room and BE QUIET.  You can imagine my surprise when I heard some doors opening and closing downstairs only a moment ago.

So, I went to check on my naughty Superman and found the door to the bathroom closed.  And locked.

I knocked.

LD (in his most chipper, sing-song voice):  Who is it?

Me:  Mom.  You are not allowed to lock the door.

LD:  But I am POOOOPing, Mom!  POOOOPing!

Me:  Unlock the door.

LD:  O-Tay.

Me:  Are you finished?

LD:  Nope.

Me:  Hurry up.

LD:  I AM!

So I went back upstairs to drink my boring coffee without creamer, because, OH!, did I tell you I really did give up the creamer?!  It's true and my life is bleak as a result of it.

Reluctantly, I decided it was time to deal with the boy again.

And wouldn't you know it, the bathroom door was locked.  So I knock.

LD (in his most chipper, sing-song voice):  Who is it?

Me:  Mom.

LD (in his most worried voice to himself):  UhOh.  Mom.

LD (in his most chipper, sing-song voice): Yes, Mom?

Me:  Open the door.

LD:  O-Tay.

And luckily, we had moved past the actual elimination process and had entered the wiping portion of the event.  Which, oddly enough, takes just as long for him to accomplish.

And now he is back in bed.  Where he is doing anything but sleeping.

Happy Wednesday!

Because I am nice.

You know what's a bad idea?  Looking at Pinterest when you are hungry.

Oh!  Have I mentioned Pinterest before?  It is only the most amazing site ever.  All the haters and naysayers need to chill.  If you think you don't have time for Pinterest, you should stop reading my blog and devote that allotted time to pinning fantastic things.  Pinterest is way more informative.  FYI.

But since I am nice and all, I shall share with you a few delights I have discovered over The Pinterest.

So.  Sometimes I hate cooking dinner.  It's true.  What with all the complaining, whining, and 4 year old boys saying my food is "too sausage" and all.

(source)

Dinner.  Such a devastating ordeal all around.

Well, since I am a bit busy and all and have many mouths to feed, I thought I might share these easy recipes with you.  Because I am nice like that.

Easy Recipe #1

Alert:  This recipe is mostly easy if you have cooked chicken on hand.  I like to cook up a bunch of chicken in the crockpot, shred it, and freeze it in 2 cup portions.  Because I am on the ball.

Second Alert:  If you put cooked chicken in your kitchen aid and turn it on for just a moment, you will have shredded chicken.  This is much faster than the two fork method.  That helpful hint brought to you BY PINTEREST.  Seriously.  Pinterest.  Check it out.

Chicken and Wild Rice Casserole

Brought to you by the ueber lovely Bimlissa

Prepare two boxes of Uncle Ben's Wild Rice casserole.  Normally I frown upon conveniently prepared foods.  Not because I am healthy.  Mostly because I am poor and it is cheaper to cook from scratch.  But this rice is awesome and I totally dig it.  I get all handsome on this rice.  It is yummy.

I wonder why my pants feel tight?

Spread the rice in a 13x9 pan.  Top with the cooked chicken.  Now prepare a white sauce.  I am seriously the coolest person in the world because I know how to make white sauce. Envy me.

White Sauce . . .plus cheese.  So it might be cheese sauce.  But whatev:

2 tbs butter
1 tbs flour
1 cup milk
1/2 cup grated cheddar cheese
2 tsp lemon juice (optional)

Blend melted butter and flour in a sauce pan over medium heat with whisk.  Gradually
add milk and thicken.  Add cheese and stir until melted.

Pour sauce over the chicken.  Bake at 350 for 20 minutes.

Your children will rise and call you blessed.  Except for Handsome Dude.  He finds it a bit sausage, you know?  But Handsome Dude does like these bread sticks.  And lucky you!  I'll share the recipe!

Guess where I found the recipe?  Go on.  Guess.

It starts with a "P"  . . .

(image source and recipe link)

 . . . and ends in an "interest!"

Those bread sticks are truly a delight.  They are copycat Olive Garden.  I lightened them up a bit by making smaller bread sticks (I think I made 18 or 20) and using about 1/4 of the amount of butter.

Make these bread sticks, I implore you.

***

Random Topic Quick Change!

A stomach bug has entered our home.  The good news is I do not have to cook dinner.  The bad news is I have to clean up vomit.  Which is always fun.

***

Let's do a COW.  Because that has nothing to do with anything we are talking about today.

But what is life without whimsy?

Today's COW is brought to you by Erin with her obviously ineffective comment trying to persuade me to NOT get a dog.

Allow me to be the voice of reason. You do not need a dog. You should not get a dog.
Did you know the average cost of dog ownership is between $700-$3000 dollars every year?
Don’t tell me you cant put a price on a pet. You can, and it’s between $700 and $3000 dollars a year.

If it's any consolation, Erin, I did read that comment to my husband and we both shared a chuckle over it.

And my husband NEVER chuckles.  Be honored.

Alright.  Off I go to disinfect things!

Later Gators.

 

Lazy Dogs and Log Cabins

I am convinced that we have brought home the world's laziest dogs.  It is clear the Lord has smiled down upon me.

Here are Tank and Miley after the kids ran them up and down the driveway a few times.

Tank

Look at him!  So slothful.  The girls are trying to get him into shape.  They don't understand why he is always panting.

I told him he was probably named Tank by his previous owner for a reason.  He probably weighs over 100 pounds.

I would like to rename him "Hank".  I would also be ok with naming him "Tiny", just to be humorous.  But the kids aren't having it.

Here's Miley after a rigorous, five-minute cardio session:

The children had mercy upon her and brought her food dish over to her so she wouldn't have to move, bless their hearts.

Tank has gas something fierce.  That is his one flaw.  Oh, that and almost getting my husband shot the other night, but that ain't no thang.  I was text-chatting with my sis-in-law Amy about the gas and she mentioned something about me making my own dog food.

Amy!  Brilliant!  You know, I think making homemade dog food via Pinterest would be dope.  Just dope.  I am going to look into it post haste.

In other news, today was President's day, and me being the fantastic school marm that I clearly am, had the children make "Abe Lincoln Log Cabins."

Homeschool.  President's Day.  Nailed it.
Little Dude was only interested in getting in every picture.

Yes.  He is charming, isn't he?

The kids had fun making their log cabins, and I felt like I earned my Homeschooling Mom Gold Star for the Week.  I felt so good, I even decided to skip Latin.  Because who needs Latin anyways?  Not us.

Daisy Mae and Handsome Dude about exploded with excitement over this intriguing craft that I obviously could never come up with on my own and got the idea over the World Wide Web.

And, yes.  That is a hanger thrown on yonder stair.  I'm glad you noticed.

There he is again, shaking his hips and all that nonsense.  I don't know about that kid sometimes.

Happy Monday!

The Hearty North

So.

My blog has been acting a bit funny . . . don't know if you noticed?  Word on the street is if you tried to click on a post, you would be taken away to a very disturbing place.  And I apologize for that.

But herein lies the truth:  I am an extremely ignorant blogger.

Do not try to convince me otherwise.  Your words will fall on deaf ears.  But awhile back I decide to try "self-hosting."  Now, I do not know what self-hosting is.  Nor do I know what "hosting"is.  So, whenever a problem arises, I don't know what to do.   Usually, I get help from the very patient guy who helps me with the self-hosting-what-not and my friend Melissa at A Time for Everything.  She is MY Pioneer Woman and always will be.  Without their help, you would probably still be visiting naughty sites from the lovely nation of Russia.

So what can we learn from this?  We learn that Taylor should not self-host.  I am working on moving my blog to blogger but hoping to still have the same address so I will be easy to find.

And when I say "I" will be switching to blogger, of course I mean I am hoping Melissa will do it for me.  I will have to pay her in elk meat and applesauce.  She's sure to be thrilled, as well as honored.

Let's move on before my blog gets hijacked again, shall we?

My girls are hard workers.  Everyday, no matter what the weather, they head outside to feed and water rabbits.  And when I say "rabbits"  I mean RABBITS as in MANY, MANY RABBITS.  And, no, I am not going to tell you how many because:

A)  You already think I am weird enough

B)  I don't know how many are out there

C)  I am too lazy to count them.

D)  I don't want to know the truth.

So, anyways, my girls take good care of the rabbits, but the rabbits are not very fun pets.  And if you need a reminder post on the rabbits, you can click here if you so desire.

The girls have been begging for a dog, and I feel they have showed us that they are responsible to take care of pets.  Plus,  I really do like dogs . . . remember Mabel?  She was pretty swell and I miss her.  So, we have been letting the girls look around for a dog . . . not a puppy.

Well, we didn't find a dog.  We found two dogs.

Meet Tank

And Miley

They are black labs.  The owners were needing a new home for them.  They are almost four years old and our children are smitten.

We did have a minor hiccup though.  Allow me to share that fun little story, if you will.

First of all, we went to go and meet the dogs to see if they would be a good fit for our family.  The owner was extremely friendly and called David "Bro" upon many occasions.  This is fantastic because:

A)  David is not his "bro"

B)  David is not even really his acquaintance

C)  I'm pretty sure David has never been called "bro" before in his entire existence.

I think next time he calls me "Teller,"  I shall call him "bro."  It seems reasonable.

Anyways, when we first went to meet the dogs, I was dead-set against it.  I mean TWO dogs?  Like I need that in my life.  I told David I would NOT be interested in these two dogs . . . kind of like I told him I would NEVER homeschool, nor would I EVER move to Ruralville.

Let us take a moment to be impressed with my iron-clad will.

These dogs were precious.  I mean, yes, they were gigantic, I'll give you that.  But they were so good.  And calm.  The owner, aka David's bro, assured us that these dogs have never run off and we should not have a problem with them leaving our property, which was our main concern.

So, we took the dogs home.  Because, yes, we are dumb.  But we have kids and what is life on 20 acres with no dogs, I ask you?  We arrived at ye olde homestead and the dogs had to relieve themselves, as dogs are wont to do.  Well, they went . . . and they didn't come back.

Because we are clearly the world's best pet owners, didn't you know?  I mean, come on.  You've lost two black labs within 10 minutes of bringing them home, haven't you readers?  So, David armed himself with a flashlight and went off to find the dogs.

David was taking awhile and I was getting a bit nervous.  I could not see his flashlight anywhere . . . plus it was dark and we were getting some heavy snowfall.  And yes, I just said "heavy snowfall" because I live in the hearty north where we say such things and it is acceptable.  So I donned my North Face jacket . . .

(source)

and loaded up the kids to go rescue Daddy.  Because what is a Lumberjack without his loving Lumberjill to break out the 4-wheel drive and come rescue him?  Well, I drove around for a bit and could not find him.  I went back to the house and he was not there.  I went out again and still could not find him, but this time when I returned the dogs were back.  I loaded the dogs into the rig.  And yes, I said "rig."  I am from the hearty north and it is acceptable to say such things.  As I was leaving to find my beloved, two cars were going down our road.

Now, this was a site!  Such a rarity to see cars!  I mean, sure we see turkeys, deer and the occasional moose.  But CARS!

Oh!  And they were POLICE CARS!  So odd.  Anyways, I pull out into the road behind the police car and notice a man, looking ironically like a "bro" out in the road talking to the cops.

And wouldn't you know it, that Bro was my husband!

Turns out my husband was tracking our new dogs down the road and ended up on our neighbor's property.  The neighbor's wife became alarmed to see a "Bro" wearing dark clothing, a hoodie, and brandishing a flashlight at such an hour.  Neighbor's wife called 9-1-1 and Mr. Neighbor came out with a gun pointed at MY HUSBAND'S HEAD.

I am happy to report that my husband was not, in fact, shot.  The dogs are home.  And the neighbors, *I think*, are still talking to us.  But I cannot be certain.

I told my husband that he definitely makes life . . . interesting.  When we are old and frail, we will have many memories to talk about.  And yes, I am sure we will talk often in our olden years.  My husband is pretty chatty, you know?

Alright, I must go and watch the AxMen with my AxMan.

Later, dudes.

Hey, Girl.

I am sure you have all been waiting with bated breath to hear whether or not I have, in fact, received a dry-erase board in my new school room.

I have.

My life is now complete.

Fun Fact:  If someone you know and love takes a Sharpie out instead of a dry erase marker and writes all over the new whiteboard . . .

FEAR NOT.

Take a dry-erase marker and write over the Sharpie.  The sharpie will come right off when you erase the marks.

Ask me how I know.

I have this friend.  Let's call her Lani.  Simply for the fact that "Lani" is her actual name.  Lani is a fellow homeschooling mama.  Lani refuses, and I mean refuses to check out The Pinterest.

What Lani does not realize is that The Pinterest will rock her world and upgrade her from Plain Ol' Lani to Lani 2.0.  But I digress.

Lani, without the help of Pinterest, found this hilarious website called Homeschool Ryan Gosling.  And it is, like, the best thing ever.  I kid you not.

Case in Point:

Now if that doesn't make a girl swoon, I don't know what does.

But, wait!  There's more!

Mmmm-hmmm.  That's what I'm talking about.  That blog has a plethora of those "Hey, Girls" that are sure to make any homeschooling mama get a little weak in the knees.

But will Lani ever succumb to temptation and join The Pinterest?  I do not know, dear readers.

But I will keep you abreast of the situation.

Speaking of homeschool and all the wonders it entails, Allison, a fellow homeschooling mom,  gave my blog an award!  You can check it all out here.  Allison is very much with-child and so let us all hope the little baby will decide to come soon and ease her discomforts.

***

Random Topic Quick Change!

Dentists.

If you are one of the, oh, I don't know two people who have read this blog for awhile, you might remember that I took a 6 year hiatus from the dentist.

Well, David and I finally made it back into the dentist 2 years ago and have been trying to stay up to date.  A year ago, the dentist told me I had a receding gum line and might need a minor procedure to correct it.  He said we would wait until the next appointment and then decide if we needed to take action.  I went back in October and he said that I definitely needed to get a tissue graft done on my gums as soon as possible.

Clearly I was worried because I waited until last Friday to go in and get it taken care of.

I arranged child care for the children and went in to get this taken care of.  When I made the appointment, I asked the receptionist if I would be able to drive and such after the procedure.

Receptionist:  Oh, of course, hon!  This is really minor.  It won't hurt much-you will be just fine.

So, on Friday, I went to get the tissue graft on my gums so that my teeth won't fall out.

Because I firmly believe that just because I may live in Ruralville, does NOT mean I should look like I live in Ruralville.

The son of the dentist who told me I would be needing this procedure was the dentist they scheduled me with.

Dentist:  So . . . do you know what we are going to do today?

Me:  Um . . . kind of?  I think you are just going to graft some tissue onto my gums?

Dentist:  Well, I gotta be honest with you.  This is a pretty big deal.

Me:  Ok?

Dentist:  I mean, you are going to HURT for awhile . . . several weeks.  This is not going to be fun.

Me:  Well . . .

Dentist:  Normally we have you come in for a consult first?  Did we tell you to schedule a consult?

Me:  No.  I was just told to make this appointment.

Dentist:  Ok.  Well maybe I should take some X-Rays and have you watch a DVD.

Me:  Alright.

So they take some X-Rays and set up a DVD.  As I am watching the DVD, some white thing comes across and whacks me in the head.

Like really way bad hard.

I open my eyes and nothing is there.  So, I am holding my throbbing head trying to figure out what happened.

?

Nurse:  Oh!  Ha!  Did the X-Ray machine come down and hit you in the head?  It does that sometimes!

Me:  Oh!

Nurse:  You ok?

Me:  Yup.

?

Can we not all agree that was weird?

Dentist comes back in.

Dentist:  I gotta be honest with you.  If you were my wife I would tell you to not do this.

Me:  Ok?

Dentist:  I mean this is going to hurt.  I have about the same amount of recession on my gums and there is no way I am doing this.

Me:  Ok.  Well, I am just doing what you guys told me to do?  They told me I needed to do this or my teeth might eventually, you know, fall out?

Dentist:  Oh, you got awhile before that happens!

Me:  Ok . . .

Dentist:  And if you are going to do this, I would not recommend that I do it.  I would have my dad do it.

Me:  Ok . . .

Dentist:  Looks like you are scheduled for a cleaning in April.  With my dad.  He will probably tell you that you need to do this again.

Me:  Ok?

Dentist:  But I wouldn't if I were you.

So I left with my mouth in the same condition as when I had arrived.

But I am uEber confused.

Will I need a tissue graft in April?  I do not know.

But I will keep you abreast of the situation.

***

Random Topic Quick Change.

I have puppy fever.

You may ask: "Taylor!  What on earth is puppy fever?!"

Well, dear readers.  It is kind of like baby fever, but with a dog instead.  I really want a cute, little puppy.

But not a puppy like LucyFur.  Do y'all remember LucyFur?  Poor dog.  She was just too wild for us.

I want a GOOD dog.  A dog that won't leave my property, does not need a fence, does not poop in any areas that I walk in or plan to walk in, does not impregnate the neighbor's dog or allow herself to get impregnated by the neighbor's dog, does not jump up on humans, nor chews on anything ever.

Does such a dog exist?

My heart longs for a cute puppy named Norma Jean Riley.  And yes, Norma Jean Riley comes from the Diamond Rio song, a feel-good tune if there ever was one.

The kids have been talking about getting a dog and I am trying not to let on that I really want one, too.  I am just a little uneasy about adding a puppy to our already insane schedule.

Have I told you that homeschooling has caused me to lose my mind?  It's true.

So.  Will we get a puppy?  I know not.

But I will keep you abreast of the situation.

And with that, dear readers, I shall bid you adieu.

 

 

Fancy-Pants Dots

I would like everyone to notice that I, yes, I, Taylor Maliblahblah, am blogging TWO days in a row.  This was made possible by my husband's crazy work schedule.  Does anyone else have a husband who is never really sure when he is coming home?  Dinner was to be at six, then seven.  And then at seven, he called to tell me he still had another hour or so.

In my youth, this would have frazzled and/or annoyed me.  But I am too old to care anymore.  I have gotten very creative at holding dinner off and turning overcooked soups into casseroles. So, dinner is ready, my husband is late, and I shall blog.

I made a pie tonight.  I know, I know.  I am stupid.  But I am bound and determined to make pie crust and not have it be a traumatizing event . . . if that is even possible.  The pie is banana cream and I do not know if it was a success or a fail, but I am thinking the crust is looking pretty snazzy and we should all applaud my Suzy Homaker-ed-ness.

Since my husband is ridiculously late, I doubt I shall be getting my ginormous dry erase board.  Oh, for the disappointment that is my life.  But that reminds me of this week's COW.

I KNOW!  Did you forget we even did a COW around here?  The COW stands for "Comment of the
Week Whenever-I-think-of-it."

This week's COW goes to Auntie Datenutloaf, who was a TOTAL downer, if there ever was one.

Her comment to my excitement over my upcoming Dry-Erase-Homeschooling-Magic-Board?

"dry erase markers are toxic"

And I think we need to do a second COW, because we can.  Check out this little convo I found in the comments section.

(Sister Meagan is referring to Katie B's use of über with the fancy-pants dots on the top)

Sister Meagan says:

February 9, 2012 at 11:16 am (Edit)

Woah! You got an umlaut in there! Very impressive!

Reply

Lola says:

February 9, 2012 at 3:21 pm (Edit)

Hi, dear Sister Meagan!

The word “umlaut” is written “Umlaut” ; please look at the initial. All nouns begin with a (big) initial in German.
But I am very glad that you taught your sister the correct way to write “ueber”. LOL.
Hugs, Lola (a nerd in Germany, and a native. A native nerd, I suppose)

And I shall now announce that I heart Lola for schooling Sister Meagan.

Holla, Lola!

Let's move on with a random list, shall we?

1)  I caught the girls passing notes to each other in "class" today.  And I use the term "class" quite loosely.

Quite.

2)  We painted dinosaur fossils today.  And Little Dude is cute, so here is a picture.

You're welcome.

The girls were being a bit goofy.

They were painting headbands.  Lest any of you think they were fossils.  And you know you did.

3)  We will be studying the Latin numbers 1-10 coming up, so I made a poster to hang in my SCHOOL ROOM, because I can do these things now.

Check out what is Latin for six.

Mmmm-hmmm.

Daisy Mae noticed it right away.  Which I found to be worrisome.

DM:  Mom!  Look at six!

Me:  Yes?  What about it?

DM:  Look at what it says!  Sex!

Me:  Yup.

DM:  That's funny, you know why?

Me:  Nope.

(And neither should you, Little Missy.)

DM:  Because it is just a different vowel!  "E" instead of "I"!  That one will be SO easy, huh, Mom?

Me:  Totally.

4.  Teaching Latin is NOT for the faint of heart.

Who knew?!

5.  David and I were watching Pawn Stars the other night.  During the show, there was a reference made to a Yugo.

(source)

When I was a young lass, my grandfather owned a restaurant and purchased oh, about 11 Yugos for delivery cars.  Because . . .

?

Anyways.  During Pawn Stars I had a humorous flash back.  Back in the day, we used to carpool with a fairly wealthy family.  When it was their turn for carpool, we rode in a Mercedes Benz with leather interior.

When it was our turn?  My dad would cram himself plus five children into the Yugo.

And you know what is sad?

I think I probably thought the Yugo was cooler.

Because it was red and I thought it might be a sportscar?  I cannot be certain.  My dad also starred in a commercial and he gave a riveting performance.

Remember my dad?

Happy Thursday!

The Dog Formerly Known as Gretta

My husband is currently watching a show called "American Farmer."

?

Yet, he sleeps during The Superbowl.  And that's all I have to say about that.

I promised myself on Sunday night that I would blog everyday this week. And here it is . . . almost Thursday.  I am such a liar.  But we have had an eventful week!

I hope you have your party pants on.

On Monday, we went to our homeschool co-op.  Which was lovely per usual.  Afterwards, we went to Target, and oh my lands, how I have missed Target.  I have not been in there in ages!  It is a truly a delight.  As we were checking out, Handsome Dude decided to become curious.

HD:  Mom.  Hey, MOM?  Why is that girl working?

And he is pointing right at our cashier.

Me:  Yes, mm-hmmm.

I decide to frantically search for a piece of gum to stick in the boy's mouth.  Because I know not what he is going to say.  But it probably won't be good.

HD:  WHY IS THAT GIRL WORKING?  WHY DO SOME GIRLS WORK AND SOME DON'T?  YOU DON'T WORK.  WHY IS SHE WORKING AT TARGET?

Why do you care, O Inquisitive One?  The strange thing is every single female family member he knows works, except for one of his aunts.  So, in reality, he should think it is weird that I don't work.

Friendly Target Associate:  Well, young man, I don't have a husband, so I have to pay for all my own bills and food and stuff.  That is why I work!

Bless her heart.  She was so cheerful.  And my boy just looked at her and walked away.  He is lovely, isn't he?

On Tuesday, I woke up determined to figure out some way to make my homeschooling life more organized.  I told Sweet Pea we should consider making a school room out of the play room.  I hopped in the shower and when I got out, she had already started moving desks into the playroom and teaching her sister how to indent the first sentence in a paragraph.  Which is humorous, actually, because Sweet Pea REFUSES to indent the first sentence in a paragraph.  But I digress.

We made up a school room and the kids all got into helping.

Here are the boys.  They are "learning."  And when I asked if they could smile for a picture, they refused.  They said they were too busy.

And about 10 minutes into our morning, the boys had came and conquered, leaving our nice neat school area looking like this:

And this:

Check out those ginormous firetrucks.  They were gifts from my in-laws.  Oh!  And they make lots of grand noises, too!

Grandparents.  Giving large, obnoxious toys.  Because they can.

Here is a shot of Daisy Mae during a spelling lesson:

I use All About Spelling with her.  She is spelling the word "problem."  As in, "I have a problem with the fact that my walls are still peach."

The girls asked me why I was taking pictures during school.  I told them to not worry about it.  Then they squealed and giggled and squealed:

"Mom!  Are you making us a yearbook?!"

Because they are delusional like that.

I am playing around with the idea of "workboxes."  Have you heard of these, O Fellow Homeschoolers?  I got the idea from this blog post.  I am pretty sure that a new school room, a giant dry erase board, and workboxes are going to solve all of my homeschooling angst.  Do not tell me otherwise.  Let me have my moment.

And, yes.  I am going to get a dry erase board.  My husband, along with all of his muscles, will be bringing home a . . . wait for it . . . wait for it . . .

4 foot by 8 foot dry erase board AND he will be installing it on the morrow.

!

Oh, be still my heart!

These are the things that excite me now.  I told him it could be my Valentine's Day present.  Because we are uEber romantic like that.

The ''e" in uEber is brought to you by my know-it-all little sister,  Sister Meagan.

Sister Meagan:  Acting like the big sister since she graduated from the big college in 2010.

Fun Fact Little Sister:  I graduated from college, too.

Sister Meagan is acting all needy-like lately and needing lots of attention just because she got a dog.  She named the dog "Gretta."  And I approved.  But then she switched to Eleanor for some unknown reason.  And then I went on with my life and forgot all about the dog because, hello, I have other things to think about like DRY ERASE BOARDS.  So she sends me a text tonight that says:

My dog's great.  Thanks.

This means Sister Meagan is hurt by my lack of enthusiasm for The Dog Formerly Known as Gretta.  Truth be told, I really want a dog.  But an easy dog.  Like one I don't have to deal with.  And I want to name her or him Norma Jean Riley.

All my life I have wanted a pet named Norma Jean Riley.  And a ridiculously large 4x8 dry erase board.

100 (meaningless) points to anyone who knows where I got the fantastic name "Norma Jean Riley."

And no.  You can't steal it.

This and That and Pinterest.

David and I started to watch the Superbowl . . . simply because society insists that we do.  Yet, neither of us care all that much.  All I could think about was how much I wanted pizza.  Would you believe that there are no pizza delivery options for Ruralville?  And I am out of mozzarella?  And what is homemade pizza without mozzarella?  I ask you?

Imagine my excitement when David fell asleep during the game.  He was twitching and everything.

Score!

I quickly changed the channel.  But then I got bored so now I am blogging.  I have completely lost my mind.  Homeschooling has taken over every thought and I have been a pretty bad blogger-type-person all around.   So, I apologize for not blogging lately, but nothing all too exciting has been happening.

Here's a list.  Of all the non-existent things going on.  You're welcome.

1)  David spotted an eagle today in our very own backyard.

An exciting moment, if there ever were one.

2.  I CALLED THE DENTIST and made the appointment to have my gums fixed so my teeth don't plumb fall out.  Because I am 30 now, and these are the things that must happen.

3.  We got the "estimated" bill for the ER visit.  I shall have this day for mourning.

4.  With the help of my sister-in-law, Lisa, I made four of these soap pumps for mason jars.

Don't pretend you aren't jealous.  I think I am going to fill it with dish soap.  Brilliant!  And yes, I should have one of those "design/decorating/loveliness" type blogs, don't you think?

Yes, those are all my babies in the background.

And yes, I just took a picture of a picture.  Deal with it.

Fun fact:  The girls are 15 months apart and the boys are 15 months apart and both pictures were taken when they were  about 17 months and 2 months old each.  And don't you love it when parents talk in "months?"  Like if I say my 42 month old had a pee-pee accident, it sounds so much more acceptable than if I say my 3 1/2 year old had a pee-pee accident?  Yes?  No?

5.  I have made two batches of the crockpot yogurt.  And here are my thoughts on that:

Just buy yogurt.

That is all I can think of to update you on.  Riveting wasn't it?  So, let's talk about Pinterest.   If you are looking at the computer, muttering to yourself,

"What is this Pinterest I keep hearing about?"

Then leave this blog post haste by clicking on this link and go check it out.  It is fantabulous.  Here are some ideas I would like to try.

Blue tinted mason jars (link and image source)

Awesomeness.  And I could even put one of my handy dandy aforementioned soap pumps atop one of those lovely jars.

Bam!

I am pretty sure I'll be the envy of all of Ruralville.

I really want to make this:

(source and link)

And when I say "I", of course I mean "I hope I can coerce my husband into basically doing this entire project for me."

I would also like to make this:

(source)

Because I certainly have five hours to make "book page rosettes."

I am pretty sure you all expected a little weirdness from me, so yes, I am planning on making my own liquid hand soap to go in my enviable mason jar soap pumps.  Because these are the things I do now.

Alright.  I better get to fixin' supper.

Wish it was pizza.

Happy Sunday!