Sunday, July 10, 2011

A BLEEPING COUGAR!



So...my life pretty much consists of my family, my house, my pets, my plants, and Facebook. Sad and pathetic, yes I know. But late lastnight RIGHT BEFORE BED, I read one of my posts about a cougar in Lisbon. Laying in a field. ...... I could go in all sorts of directions with this, but unfortunately, it was a real cougar - or puma - or mountain lion - or catamount - or big fast sneaky scary cat - however you wish to refer to it - in a town just about 7 miles west and north of where I live. It was spotted. And it's been stealing sheep. FUCKING SHEEP. Have you ever seen a sheep? They're not mean, in fact, they're kinda stupid. But they will headbutt a metal fence at a full on run if they're threatened.

So what do I do? I do what every rational, sane, person does for to-the-minute accurate information, I google it. "cougar sightings in Iowa." I find sightings from as recent as February 2011. In Iowa City.

Well here's my thought process:
"Is this a joke? He's joking. A cougar, that's silly. Are they bringing wine? haha" O_O "wait. This is a real cougar? A REAL mountain lion? OMG my children play outside. They can NEVER PLAY OUTSIDE AGAIN! But wait, they are nocturnal right? Of course they are. They're cats. (FYI not true) Oh crap. I have to go outside with the dogs now when they go potty. And carry pepper spray - no wait, I don't want it to get that close. An air horn. Yeah that's better. I'm sure the few neighbors that we have would really enjoy a 3 AM air horn blast. Well maybe they'd be OK with it if they knew there was a FUCKING PUMA in the area. I need a gun."
I kind of ran with this idea of a mountain lion and I assume it will come prey on my little family because we're the only ones in the town with small children and dogs. But still. It freaks me out. And we're surrounded by corn. But we are also right next to the highway with an active train track just on the other side of the highway. So...

But still. A FUCKING COUGAR! Maybe I'll bait it with some Chardonnay then spray it with my pepper spray right before I confuse it with my air horn.


This blog is a personal blog, copyright protected under a creative commons license. You may not use any photos included in this blog for commercial or non commercial use.

Saturday, July 9, 2011

A Broken Heart


Ok so I know that I complain about being "stuck" with my children, sometimes. But when I'm stuck with no hope of anyone coming to my rescue, I feel trapped, claustrophobic, like I can't breathe. But when my husband comes to me today after he's been mowing for 5 hours and says to me "My mom said she would take the kids so we could go run errands without them" I honestly felt my stomach drop. Not that Grandma isn't capable. But I will miss them. I love my children. How dare he make such a suggestion and plan without consulting me first?! Emme's been happy today. Brighton's been good. They've been silly and funny and I don't want to leave them.

What is wrong with me?


This blog is a personal blog, copyright protected under a creative commons license. You may not use any photos included in this blog for commercial or non commercial use.

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Fleeting Moments

As a parent, we all have those moments of clarity when we step away from the day to day diaper changes and t-ball games and general rushing here to there only to realize how quickly time really does go. I woke with a back ache, and moved Emme to her co-sleeper, and the memory of her so tiny and chubby flashed through my mind. Then Brighton's sweet little baby face, and I panicked. And cried. I will never have little babies of my own again. No more midnight feedings. No more tiny baby cuddling in my arms. I'm still nursing, but no more all around the clock. I do want my babies to grow up. The alternative is incomprehensible. But if time could just slow a little, that would be great.

Monday, June 27, 2011

A Morning Full of Expletives

The night started out relatively rough, but we got through it with some ibuprofen and some rocking and some giving in. We set up the cosleeper for Emmeline in hopes that she would sleep in there like she does at her daycare. Not that I don't want her near me, but my back can't take sleeping with a toddler any longer. Then a typical Iowa thunderstorm hit sometime in the middle of the night complete with booming thunder. Which brought my son into the bedroom to nest on the floor.

I should have known this would be the beginning of my peaceful morning's demise.

I woke up at 5:30 more or less, to my husband's expletive after stepping in dog vomit. Which was directly in his walking path. On the carpet (of course.) So I sneaked out of bed and into the bathroom and thought to myself "I might as well just get up because I won't be able to sleep."

Shortly thereafter, she woke.

And that's when the expletives started for me.

Since 5:30 this morning.

Emme is sleeping, I sneak out for some coffee...realize my husband only ground enough for him.
-Expletive-

I unplug the grinder and take it to the front porch, close the door, I grind enough for two cups. Come inside, free pour my coffee. I hear her crying.
-Expletive-

My son wakes up, wants up on the bed. Sure. Fine. Great. Another breathing body, maybe she'll stay asleep. I lay down, stick my boob in her mouth, she falls back to sleep. I slowly removing myself (hoping. praying.) that having Brighton next to her will keep her content and she'll stay sleeping. Again, I sneak back out of the bedroom in search of my newly poured cup of hot coffee and I turn the computer on.

She's awake. And crying. Again.
-EXPLETIVE-

Is she feverish? No not really. Is she teething? Yes probably. I give her hylands teething gel and tyelnol. I decide I should rock her. She falls asleep. I can tell she's tired. She of course, wants to nurse. So I let her nurse. She falls asleep (sort of). I lay her back into bed. Walk out into the hallway, she's awake again. Crying.
-Expletive-

Ok now it's time for the baby wearing apparatus. I go out to the car and retrieve the mei tai. Emme sees it and calms down (good sign). I put her in. Happy. OK cool. I can deal with this. -DEEP BREATH- I walk from the bedroom to the kitchen. Thinking (like a fool) "OK. Now maybe if I rock and type and drink my coffee while I'm wearing her she'll be OK."

Nope. I sit, she freaks out. I stand up and walk she's fine.
-EXPLETIVE! EXPLETIVE! EXPLETIVE!! -

I'll try the ring sling. She can nurse in the ring sling. Probably. Maybe. Spend about 10 minutes trying to figure the expletive thing out again, finally get it (sort of) figured out, put her in, reach down to the depths of my t-shirt to find my boob and stick it in her mouth. She's kind of content. OK good. . Then apparently she gets uncomfortable, starts to fidget. I know where this is headed. Down the expletive road. Yep there it is. Crying, screaming, freaking out.
-WHAT THE EXPLETIVE!!! EXPLETIVE OF ALL THINGS EXPLETIVE!!!!!-

I'm giving up. I can feel the strength and compassion draining slowly from my body. I am either going to scream (which will be heard all over my small town) or go drown myself in the toilet (probably not the way I want to go) or just go lay her back down and see what happens. The latter is the most terrifying...I can feel the fear bubbling inside my stomach like I just jumped off a 30 story building....

..............

........................

crying.............



................

.....................

Omg could it really be?

.....................

Nope.

EXPLETIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And my once hot steaming coffee, is sitting next to me, untouched, cold, abandoned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This blog is a personal blog, copyright protected under a creative commons license. You may not use any photos included in this blog for commercial or non commercial use.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

In The Beginning - A Fairy Tale

In The Beginning:

There was two.


A man and a woman who loved one another very much. Who had gotten to know one another in marriage for four blissful years. Who were best of friends. But those two wanted more. They wanted a family. Their home was too quiet, too calm, too boooooooorrrrring.







Then came a boy. A little boy with chubby, rosey, pinchable cheeks and a squirley and infectious giggle. A little boy who consumed our lives and our love and our home. A Prince. A noble and sweet and kind and considerate and brave prince.

And then there were three.








Then came a girl. A Princess. A girl who stole hearts and gave butterflies. With a droopy eyelid and 4 toes on one foot, her uniqueness drew everyone in like the smell of roses to the gardener. She was perfect. Her eyes bright and her hair curly. And her teeny tiny button nose and wide smile melts and mends.

And then there were four.

This is our Fairy Tale.