Mr. Potato Potty, part deux

For those of you who were lucky enough to catch my previous blog post entitled "Mr. Potato Potty," here is the next installment. You will recall that Mr. Potato Potty was a gas station toilet I came across that was comprised mainly of parts and pieces from other toilets. Other toilets, and one construction site that no doubt donated the piece of lumber that was serving as a tank lid. To the store owner's credit, he had gone to the trouble of painting said lumber and adding a lovely fake floral arrangement in an attempt to disguise the repair. Or maybe it was just to give it that more "homey" feeling we are all looking for in a gas station restroom. Either way.

Today while traveling through deepest, darkest Alabama I found Mr. Potato Potty's long lost brother. At some point in its life, it was an unassuming, all white potty. And that's when the trouble began. Apparently the seat just wouldn't stay put, judging from the huge, industrial strength silver screws now attaching it securely to the lid. In a tragic turn of events, the tank lid had broken and was now replaced with a new one that didn't even begin to fit correctly. In addition to it being too big, the wrong shape, and also the wrong color it was being held in place with...wait for it...a huge piece of silver duct tape! Ah yes, the redneck weapon of choice. A good old roll of silver duct tape can right any wrong.

I admired this tribute to toilet architecture for a moment before returning to the store, where they were giving away free pizza and chicken wings of all things. My husband could barely contain his excitement. When I made the mistake of declining their kind offer, he elbowed me and hissed, "You better take that free pizza! WE might want it later!" Gee, sorry hon. You're right. "We" might want it later...what was I thinking? On to Tennessee! Can't wait to see what we find there...

I'm Not Mad at Miley

I find the reaction to the Miley Cyrus performance on the VMAs very interesting. Honestly, I was a little surprised that the media reacted the way it did. Is it because someone finally realized that displays such as this one are disgusting and do not qualify as entertainment? I doubt it. Is is the fact that this once fresh-faced, extremely talented girl spent years as clean cut Hannah Montana on the Disney Channel? Personally, I found the entire thing disturbing, raunchy, and completely inappropriate. But I find much of the content on MTV and every other channel falls into that category these days. What passes for "family" television in this day and age absolutely blows my mind. Perhaps I am old-fashioned, or perhaps my mother was.
Either way, I consider myself extremely fortunate that my kids have no knowledge of Miley Cyrus or Hannah Montana. That said, there are plenty of other "celebrities" and "entertainers" that I don't want my kids to emulate. There are athletes and people in their everyday lives that I don't want them to look up to. There are all sorts of humans on the planet that I consider totally unfit as role models for my kids.
So what's a parent to do? Throw out the televisions and computers? Police every conversation and piece of literature that they read? That really doesn't seem very practical. Besides, unless you decide to homeschool your kids and forbid them from having any friends, they are going to be exposed to something you would not approve of at least once a day.
So here it is... my own, old-fashioned small town Southern girl suggestion. Be the role model for your own children. Yep, I said it. Take responsibility for the life YOU created. Suck it up, buttercup, and break all those bad habits you don't want your kids to have.
Don't want them to hate their bodies? Quit putting yours down in front of them. No, I don't particularly love my thighs, but my daughters have never heard me say that. Don't want them to drink alcohol? Don't do it in front of them. Would you rather they didn't dress like a hoochie mama and gyrate on some guy's leg in public? Then show them the proper way to dress and model the behavior you would like to see in them!
People seem to want to blame Miley's misstep on her handlers. I submit that she is influenced by the people her parents allow to be around her. It is their job to ensure that she is being influenced by the right kind of people, not to simply support her after the fact.
Demand respect from your children. Do everything you can to ensure that they are more afraid of you finding out and being disappointed in them than the repercussions of any inappropriate behavior they might take part in. Hey, it worked for my parents! Did I have the chance to drink in high school? You bet I did. The overwhelming reason I didn't? I was afraid my mother would find out. Could I have gone out drinking and slept with various guys in college? Sure! But I didn't. Honestly, I was more afraid of disappointing my parents than I was of getting pregnant.
Don't  get me wrong. When I say I was "afraid" of my parents, I mean that I was afraid of letting them down. They weren't abusive or terrifying people. They did however, lay out very clearly what their expectations were for my behavior, and I try to do the same thing with my kids. It isn't easy, it isn't fun, and sometimes the only explanation I can come up with is, "because you are my child and I love you too much to let you act that way."
Yes, there are a multitude of famous people out there who could be allowed to influence my children. My job is to step in when I am needed and model the behavior I wish for them to emulate, as well as limiting their exposure to the people and behavior that are not good for them. So I'm not angry with Miley. I feel sorry for her, as she has obviously lost her way. I suggest that we as parents see her "performance" as a call to action. Be parents! Take it upon yourselves to teach your kids right from wrong, and stop relying on the media, or teachers, or their friends to do it for you. YOUR children are YOUR responsibility!






  

Goodbye, Zoey.

It is with a very heavy heart that I share the loss of our English bulldog, Zoey. It has taken me a long time to get to this post, I suppose because it makes me so sad. I miss her snoring at night, I miss her sitting at my feet while I put on makeup, I miss the sound of her toenails on the floor as she followed me around the house. I even miss her stinky breath, and let me tell you, it was bad!
When my normally tough as nails husband called and told me he was bringing an old, sad bulldog home because he just couldn't put her to sleep, I had no idea that she would end up being mine. I remember the first time I saw her, sitting there in the back seat of his truck. She was old, she was sick, and she was skinny. Her nose was running, her eye was cloudy, and she weighed approximately half as much as she should have. Over the next few months, she slowly gained weight. Her eye cleared up, we had her spayed and her teeth cleaned, and trimmed those long toenails as best we could. She also wormed her way into my heart and our bedroom.
This post will be short, as I don't have the time to do her justice. I am thinking really hard about starting another book with her as the subject. She taught our family so much about love and loss. It broke my heart to think that someone bred her as many times as they could, sold her puppies for a profit, and then threw her away when she was no longer "useful." I hope the karma bus runs them over.
When I sat with her for the last time, stroking her head and looking into those sad eyes, all I could do was try to reassure her that she was loved in this lifetime, that for a little while she was part of a family who cared what happened to her. We cared if she was sick, or hungry, or had a soft place to sleep. She gave us unconditional love in return. We love you, sweet Zoey. I hope you are in a happier place. We left your MSU collar on so that the girls would recognize you when we get to where you are. Rest in peace, sweet girl. I miss you every day.

I Find That Offensive

I don't often comment on news stories because let's face it, between television, radio, the Internet, Facebook, and every other blogger out there, most of the time there's not much left to say about anything. But in this case I'll make an exception. A rodeo clown (of all things) has offended the media in this country enough to warrant discussion on the "Today" show. Incidentally, that show should just be called "A Liberal Take on the News Today." I guess the producers got so tired of the anchors interjecting their personal opinions into their "news" stories that now the show has entire segments devoted to these people's opinions of what is going on in the world. I for one am perfectly capable of listening to the facts of a newsworthy story and then forming my own opinion of the information contained in it.
Personally, I'm sick and tired of the media in this country reminding me constantly that I must go out of my way not to offend anyone, while simultaneously attacking my morals, beliefs, and very rights guaranteed to me by the US Constitution on a daily basis. I can't help but notice how many of the groups I fall into are under fire constantly these days. Christians, conservatives, stay at home moms, horse owners, even being a straight, white, married woman - all of these things have caused others to go out of their way to offend me.
Honestly, I can't remember a time that I actually tried to offend someone, and yet there are people out there who get paid to do just that. (My mother often referred to them as "sh*t stirrers.") That's not to say that I haven't ever offended anyone, quite the contrary. I've opened my big mouth and stuck my foot in it up to the ankle...but I didn't do it on purpose. And when given the opportunity, I have apologized, because what else can you do? I don't understand people who seem to take joy in offending others, no matter what their race, religion, or sexual preference.
Speaking of my mother, anyone who ever spent more than a few minutes with her knew that she was a Christian. She didn't try to force her religion on anyone, ever. She shared her beliefs by example. Often it wasn't what she said, it was how she behaved. Now we all know that people get better after they are dead. My mother wasn't a saint. She absolutely made mistakes, lost her temper, and said things that she regretted. But I can guarantee she never went out of her way to offend anyone.
I got a healthy dose of whatever that quality is (my mother-in-law has it too.) More than once I've not gotten what I wanted, just to keep from hurting someone else's feelings. That pretty much comes with the territory when you are a mom. But I just don't understand who decides which groups we must be afraid to offend. Is it only the ones who will fight back? Or is it just the ones who have departed from the morals and values this country was founded on?
The media has convinced my children that if someone looks at them sideways they are being "bullied." Personally, I think the ones who share the beliefs of the people who founded this country are the ones being bullied. Bullied and brainwashed by a media machine that is convinced Americans are too stupid to think for ourselves. Just FYI, I am neither stupid or naive, and neither are the majority of Americans who were blessed with common sense. Now I'm off to be my kids' mom. Thank goodness they don't need the media to tell them what to think and how to feel. They have me - a strong, loving mother who isn't afraid to teach them that doing what is right and standing up for your beliefs is okay, even if it offends someone.    

Meet the Teachers

Last night was open house/meet the teacher night at my children's school. For  the first time I would have more than one teacher and assistant to meet, as we decided to put my twins in different classes this year. As luck would have it, yesterday was an extremely rough day for me. I was on the second day of an all out migraine headache, from which I finally got some relief after my husband made a trip to town expressly to refill my Relpax prescription. (Thanks, hon.)  Anyone who has ever had a migraine and then taken a Relpax can appreciate the condition that I was in, suddenly pain free for the first time in 48 hours, exhausted and now slightly drunk. I arrived at the school with the traveling circus that is now my life, three kids and two enormously heavy bags of school supplies in tow. Scooping up one brown grocery bag of supplies (only one of my bags had handles) I then grabbed the other one while simultaneously attempting to keep my kids from getting run over. Reminding myself that reinforcements were on the way in the form of my husband, I trudged into the school. Naturally, I had parked in front of the school so that I would have to walk at least half a mile to the gym carrying the supplies. It didn't help my feelings when I remembered that there was a parking lot immediately adjacent to the door I needed to go in, or when I saw that it was approximately half full. By the time we all made it to the gym, I was sweating like the proverbial whore in church. I could feel the sweat rolling down the center of my back and into my underwear. As the rows of chairs finally came into view, I was thinking I couldn't remember a time I was more excited to sit down. Heading toward the promised land, I heard an extremely perky voice coming out of a smiling face. "If you'll just sign one of these sheets..." the voice said, and its owner motioned toward a table of sign in sheets. Allow me to remind you of the situation here. Picture me, aggravated and sweating, exhausted and sort of drunk, carrying an extremely heavy shopping bag and balancing an equally heavy one on my hip, with three small very excited kids in tow. I didn't say a word, but the look on my face probably said a lot. I was thinking, "REALLY?" but I'm pretty sure it came across as "Go to hell." (Which was totally and completely unintentional, by the way. It definitely was not the sort of first impression I wanted to make.) She sort of backed up a step and then stammered, "Uh, you can put your stuff down first." I managed a weak smile and a nod before bulldozing my way to the chair that was calling my name. Fortunately, I think I was able to come across as not a complete witch to my kids' teachers. They were thrilled, one mostly because her classroom is in the yellow hallway, which is apparently much more grown up than the red one that  her sister's room is on. Who knew? Anyway, everyone and their brother has offered their opinion on whether we should put the twins in different classes. So here's my story and I'm sticking to it. We are trying to do what is best for each of our girls, even if it means that things are more difficult for their parents from time to time. We want to encourage them to be individuals rather than just part of a set. And for the record, I was an only child. We are totally making this up as we go. But don't tell them that.   

Goodbye, beach!

Today was my last morning at the beach. Something about the sights, sounds, and smells of that place just makes me want to sit in a chair and do absolutely nothing for a few moments of bliss. I could listen to the seagulls and the waves crashing on the shore for hours at a time and be completely content. But I miss the heck out of my animals, so we are headed home. We farmed out a horse, a cat, and a dog for this trip, so I know at least three creatures who are really ticked at me. The corgis had company last night when the neighbors came to swim, so they shouldn't be too miffed. Honestly, it's our menagerie of animals that keeps us from traveling more than we do. Time to thin the herd! (Yeah, right.)

My big girls spent their beach time with their grandparents, so the baby was on her own with us. She wormed her way into our bed for the first time since she was a crying, nursing newborn this weekend. It was just too hard to turn her down when she opened the door and said, "Can I sleep with y'alls?" (Y'alls is the plural of y'all, for those of you who don't speak Sheridan.)

She may have been in bed with us, but there sure wasn't much sleeping going on. She tossed, turned, flipped, talked, sang, kicked us in the back, smacked us in the face, touched our faces, pulled my hair...pretty much anything and everything she could do but let us go to sleep. She has been sleeping with her sisters all summer (they fight over whose turn it is every night) and sometimes they will say, "I'm just too tired tonight. I don't want her to sleep with me." Now I know EXACTLY what they mean by that. It is by no means a restful sleep when Sher is in your bed.

We are almost home, and I can't wait to see my animals and sleep in my own bed. I have a new barrel horse that I love, and it almost killed me not to go barrel racing this weekend. Our beach trip was planned long before we got Hank and we were all looking forward to it, so off to the beach we went. It was oddly quiet this weekend, as the baby didn't have anybody to fight with and could watch whatever she wanted on tv. Now the gang's back together again, and if you're wondering how long it was before they started fighting, wonder no more. It was at least 30 seconds.

Beach Vacation

Hello again! For those of you who wondered if my little darlings had tied me up and set me on fire, or perhaps that I had met some other unfortunate end, let me assure you I am alive and well. My life has been moving at the speed of light the last few weeks, and I simply haven't taken a moment to sit down and write about it. I've been too busy living it!
At this very moment I'm sitting in one of my favorite places on the planet, a balcony overlooking the beach in Orange Beach. My husband is not a beach person (we went snow skiing on our honeymoon, for crying out loud) so I haven't been down here for at least 11 years or so. Even though this hasn't been the lazy, lie around and nap/tan/write/cross stitch beach vacation I had in mind, it has still been wonderful. My fabulous, hard-working husband has a very difficult time relaxing. Doing nothing is not really his thing, so in thirty minutes we are going parasailing.
I can't put my finger on just what it is about the beach, but sitting in a chair listening to the water just makes something in my soul happy. People watching reminds me that I have nothing to be self-conscious about, as anyone down here will rock a bikini, no matter what her age or size. (I however, will not.) I needed an extra swimsuit, and your choices down here are dental floss bikinis or plus size. Since I am not currently in either of those categories, I decided to just wash and dry the suit I already have.
My babies are seeing the beach for the very first time. My big girls went with their cousin and grandparents, so the baby has had her dad and me all to herself this weekend. I have to say that yet another thing I love about my husband is his willingness to let a three year old plan our day. She slept until lunch, we went to the beach, and now we are about to go on a dolphin cruise. I know she won't remember this trip, but it has done us a lot of good to spend some one on one time with her. Mom and Dad's undivided attention can be hard to get at home.
I had grand plans about writing a bunch of blog posts, but I think I'll go enjoy my family instead. I could come here alone and write for days. Something about this place just lends itself to creativity. But my baby girl will only be little once...