If this is boring what is exciting to you?

Growing up, I once heard a woman say that motherhood can be boring and uneventful. In retrospect I think that either:
A. She didn't really have any children
B. She didn't pay attention to her children
C. She was an absolute idiot!

Yesterday, Fiona came walking slowly to me with a terrified look on her face. Apparently, while she was holding Doodles - our cat- she was having a hard time holding on to her dime. To say Fiona is a money miser is an understatement. So, rather than set her money down (...where someone might pick it up...)she thought it would be a good idea to put it in her mouth. Now, I have yelled at my children many times not to put money in their mouths. I realize it's a choking hazard, but I personally can't get past the germ factor. Needless to say, she swallowed the dime. "My throat was so dry, I swallowed and I didn't mean to." I talked to the Dr.'s office and we (and of course I mean me) have to watch for the dime to make its exit. This morning Fiona informed me that the dime was like Dora because it was getting to explore lots of places. Where do they come up with this stuff?

Then, tonight, as I was trying to get everyone cleaned up and ready for bed, I left my freshly bathed boys in their hooded towels in the living room. I went to get their jammies and came and heard Porter yelling, "I'm a superhero, I'm a superhero!" He and Gryffin were running around with their hooded towels on with arms stretched wide open, flying around the living room. The only part of their bodies covered was their head.

I was then trying to fold clothes, put them away, and finish the dishes when I discovered Gryffin needed a dry diaper (sidenote: any potty training tips for a stubborn almost 3 year old?!). I sighed and was ready to change him when Kennedy offered to do it. "It's okay Mom, I've got this one." 8 going 18.

Life is crazy. Life is stressful. Life is unpredictable. Life is very entertaining....and I wouldn't trade with anyone....

A new addition to our family....

Hee, hee....before you too excited I'm not talking about a baby. Any of you who know my Fiona very well, know that she is a lover a all creatures great and small (furry and creepy). Recently a very mean stray cat was prowling around our house and Uncle Jerod & Aunti Shel's. The stray ended up having babies in Uncle Jerod's garage. There the stray and most of the babies met there demise. They were all very wild...one even took a good bite out of Jake's finger. In the past week two of the babies have been wandering and mewing around our wood pile. They would run anytime I'd open the door or walk (and yell) toward them.

Apparently, the reason they keep coming back is because in the past couple of days Fiona took it upon herself to try and feed them. The charcoal one "was the mean one mom and the nice one kept running away from it. I knew I had to help it. It was crying for me." The nice one has "pretty blue eyes and likes me". With their mother gone I knew it would be a matter of time before they were gone. The charcoal one was found over by Grandma's house today, dead.

Now, I do not have a heart of ice but I am not a big animal fan. I do, however, love my daughter very much. So, after much pleading, I let her take a small dish of cat food out to the wood pile. I stood back and was amazed how this kitten would walk around and purr on Fiona but when any of the rest of us came near it darted. It didn't hesitate to let her pick it up and pet it. So, unfortunately we now have (an outside one!) a new kitten...named Troy. He has a box with a diaper rag near the wood pile. We even sprayed flea and tick spray on it. That was mainly for my peace of mind and not the health of the kitten. I just hope to heaven Troy can survive outside and doesn't annoy the heck out of me. We already have Doodles, the inside cat. She is not so found of other animals.

Tonight, after we got Troy set up with his makeshift bed, I called her inside to come take a shower. I stood on the deck and listened to her say, "It's okay Troy. You're safe now. I will take care of you. You're not alone anymore."

Oh, Fiona. This ought to be interesting.

Home is where the heart is....

I had the opportunity to take a quick trip to visit my family in AZ at the beginning of June. It was very quick (just the weekend) but it gets harder and harder to be so far away. I went by myself. Thank you so much Julie, Jasmine and Michelle (the best Mother-in-law and sisters-in-law a girl could have). Thank you Jake for letting me ditch you for a weekend. I've been thinking alot about my visit and some feelings that came to mind.

I love to look out the windows as the plane decends into Phoenix. Mountains! Oh how I miss them. My heart swells up and somehow I feel protected. As the plane was about to land, I found myself tearing up and getting very antsy. I'm 33 years old but I wanted to see my Mommy. :) The people around me probably thought I was on drugs I was tapping my leg so furiously.
Distance does not make the heart grow fonder...Shakespeare was seriously mistaken. A synonym for fond is tender. That is exactly what happens to the heart, it becomes tender. The distance make the heart tender and makes the soul appreciate what is there.

Driving to Thatcher from Mesa is actually one of my favorite parts of the trip. (Most people will tell you this is the worst part...) Again, I love the mountains and all of the saguarro cactus. when I was younger and we took road trips to Mesa, my dad would always tell us stories and legends about the cactus. Apparently there was an old indian legend that said the saguarro represented the chief. The arms represented how his wives. If she was a good wife, the arm was pointed to the heavens, if she was a bad wife the arm pointed to the ground. The best part of the drive is when we drive past Pima and head into Central. The view of Mt Graham is awesome and I know I'm almost there.

A few days before I left WI my dad was telling me some things about Thatcher to which he said, "You'll just have to wait until you get home to see." I giggled and thought about that. Somehow, Thatcher will always be my home. No matter how old I get or how far I move away. A piece of my heart....no of my soul (yes we are entering cheezy territory...it's my blog..) still resides there. But, how can I call WI my home if I still have a home in AZ. So, since I left I've tried to figure out this conundrum. Can we really have more than one home? Once you leave, they say you can never really come back again. I recently came across a quote from Maya Angelou that said, "You can never go home again, but the truth is you can never leave home, so it's all right."

She pegged it just right. I will always have a 'home' in AZ. My memory is complete with the familiar sounds of birds and frogs (yes they are different from the ones here in WI), the smell of the rain (again...different) and the feel of the air (I don't think anyone would disagree that the air is different...). As Jenni is now getting ready to leave AZ (have a safe trip), she asked me how could I ever leave because she was going to miss it so much. I told her that I've missed it every day since I left.

What I have realized, with a bit of help from Ms. Angelou, is that I have never truly left.