I wanted to post this anecdote Saturday night. It’s Monday and I think I am far enough removed from the event enough to write it objectively. Probably not, though. You’ll be shocked to find out that Casey threw a full blown conniption fit. It was one of her best. If her fit were a college football game, it would be an instant classic. It all started b/c we were invited to a birthday party for the 3 year old son of one of Corey’s co-workers. I say we…but let’s be honest, we all know that were it not for those 3 little angels, we wouldn’t have been invited to spend a Saturday night fighting 4 to 9 year olds for prize tickets at Chuck E Cheese. Truth be known, we were used for our kids. It happens all the time and it happens to all of us. You know what I am talking about. We are ALL guilty of it. Parents invite their friends that have kids to their kid’s birthday party. Nevermind that the kids don’t anymore know each other than they know who the New Kids On The Block are. And it doesn’t matter if the kids are boy or girl, black or white, rich or poor, ugly or cute (you know you were thinking it). As long as your kids are within a 5 year age range of the birthday child, you get invited. They want their kids to feel like they have a bunch of new friends who all of the sudden care that it is their birthday. But the kids don’t care. They are just there for the cake and ice cream. And party favors (If you want to really piss the parents off who you invite to the party, give away Goldfish as party favors. Thanks Jenee). So, as you could expect, we are in high demand. People need us....err our 3 kids. We raise the friend tally by 3 when we walk in the door. (And the noise level by at least 3 decibels.)
But that is not why I had to wait at least 48 hours to publicly record what took place at 1310 Canadian Street. No, that honor goes to sweet little Casey. Big surprise, huh? From the moment she woke up from her nap on Saturday afternoon, she was unbearable. And that’s putting it lightly. Nothing would satisfy her. She didn’t want anything to do with anybody. She didn’t want anybody talking to her. She didn’t want anybody looking at her. She didn’t want anybody even THINKING about looking at her. It got to a point, I had enough. I told her that if she didn’t stop acting the way she was, she was NOT going to the party (which would mean I would get to stay home with her, and while we’re being candid, I didn’t really want to go to that freaking party anyway. And, at this point, it was only about 3:30 in the afternoon and the party wasn’t until 6. So I liked my chances.). Well just the sheer mention of the possibility of her not getting to go completely set her off. She started jumping and stomping and yelling, “I WANT TO GO TO THE PARTY.” As you can see, my motivational tactics are brilliant! Very influential. My words are so profound…okay so I scrap the motivational ploy and resort to physical violence. I snatch her up and spank her. I know it was effective b/c it was one of those cries where her mouth was open, her eyes were closed and her face turned Razorback red, but nothing came out of her mouth. You know the one. The hesitation cry. You know it’s coming, it just takes a second. The calm before the storm. Then all hell breaks loose and every dog in the neighborhood starts howling and yelling in response…or maybe its capitulation. Anyway, she went to her room and calmed down eventually. The time comes to get ready to leave and Corey is getting her ready. Corey asked Casey to put her shoes on. All of the sudden, she became completely incapable of putting on a pair of shoes and let everyone in ear shot know she was not going to even try. The simple phrase, “I CAN’T!!” has become a source of content for me around our house. And she apparently likes to content me (whatever that means). Well that was it. She was not going to the party. I could have cut her right arm off without any anesthetic and she wouldn’t have screamed any louder than when I told her she wasn’t going. I didn’t really care. I have a high tolerance for ear-piercing bawling if it is a result of me depriving one of my children of joy. You know me, I just love torturing my children. Nothing gets me more excited. I love it. (You picked up on the sarcasm yet?) Well Corey, Baylie and Drew were in the car and ready to go. Corey looks at Baylie and she is in tears. The big fat alligator variety. Baylie cannot stand that she is going to the party and that Casey is upset, in trouble and not going. So Corey starts crying. Baylie starts getting out and says she doesn’t want to go to the party and Corey starts to follow her. All the while, Drew is in the back seat, still buckled and waiting patiently. He looks at Corey and says, “Do I have to go inside?”(Someone said something about cake and ice cream and party favors and Chuck E Cheese. He didn’t care who was going and who was staying-or whose party it was, for that matter. If he had to drive himself, he was going to that party!) When Baylie came in, I convinced her it was her duty as a big sister to go to the party and show Casey that you get rewarded for being good. So off they went. Casey went nuts when they left again, but after about 5 minutes, she was fine. We sat and watched a movie and ate pretzels and drank chocolate milk. It was a pretty enjoyable evening. About half way through the movie, she turned to me and said, “Daddy, I was being a bad girl so I didn’t get to go to the party. Next time I am going to be a good girl so I can go to the party.” Praise Jesus!! She can be cute and precious when she wants to be. At some point though, she’s gonna realize that she is not gonna get her way. She’ll learn eventually that it ends with me winning. Always. And the sooner she figures that out, the better off we will ALL be.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Tis The Season?!
4:59:54, :55, :56, :57, :58, :59…..5:00 am!! The Wal-Mart sales associates tear off the black cling wrap and all hell breaks loose. Imagine, if you weren’t there (and some of you probably were), grown men and women pushing and shoving each other to grab handfuls of anything from $2 DVDs to a $299 Nintendo Wii, Digital photo frames and 4gb flash drives. There was yelling and screaming and I swear I saw a sales associate get swallowed by a sea of angry women fighting over $4 children’s sweat suits. If I didn’t know better, I would have sworn there were free crack rocks at the bottom of the product displays. This was my first Black Friday (why do we capitalize it like it is an official nationally observed holiday) experience so I was somewhat mesmerized by the insanity that was playing out. Then I remembered that we were there with a list and on a mission and it wasn’t to be a spectator in this fight for parent of the year. So I took a deep breath, made sure I had good traction with my shoes, told Corey to cover me and I went in. I could see the pile of Hanna Montana guitar/action figure combos dwindling by the millisecond. There was no time for timidity. I dove in and got what I went for, along with some things I didn’t want; namely an elbow to the ribcage, a smashed foot and a glare that would burn a hole through double pane glass from a lady who didn’t even want one of those stupid Hanna Montana guitar/action figure combos! It was absolutely nuts. I’m sure most of you heard about the Wal-Mart associate in New York who was trampled to death from, quote “out-of-control” shoppers (Talk about your all time understatements). What was the most disheartening about the whole scenario was that one of the shoppers was belligerent and furious and refused to leave when the store announced it was closing because of the death. She must have been that woman by the Hanna Montana guitars’ cousin.
Don’t ask why I went. It’s irrelevant. It really doesn’t matter. Really. OKAY!! I’ll tell you. Why else would I get up at 3 in the morning to be at Kohl’s by 4, Wal-Mart by 5, Home Depot by 6 and Target immediately following? Just to get a list of gifts so we could save $250 and lose valuable sleep that takes 4 days to recover from? Why? You know why! So at 6:30 on Christmas morning our children can run down the stairs with sleepy in their eyes and giddiness in their hearts. So they can turn the corner and experience pure unadulterated joy because some arthritic fat guy in a red suit landed 8 reindeer on our roof, somehow fit down our narrow soot covered chimney without setting off the alarm, ate all the rice krispie treats and drank the room temperature milk, managed to not make a sound while he left presents under the tree and left in the blink of an eye. I can just see it now. They will be so excited they won’t be able to see straight. They won’t be able to stop talking about what “Santa” brought them. They will want to rip into every one of their toys and play with them like it is the last toy on earth. They’ll run to their stockings and dump them out on the floor and rummage through the candy and rinky-dink toys “Santa” thought they just HAD to have. Then at approximately 6:37 it will all be over and we will be sitting around looking at each other wondering what the crap we do for the next 5 hours until we go to the grandparent’s house and do it all over again! All this hype and build up for about 7 minutes of insanity. I don’t know about you, but I CANNOT wait!
So that’s why I was up at 3 in the morning the Friday after Thanksgiving doing my part to put retailers back on the black side of the bottom line. Overall it wasn’t that bad. Corey and I kept a pretty good attitude and had I not been with my wife, I wouldn’t have had nearly as good a time. However, I wouldn’t necessarily recommend it to any of you. If you can afford to buy your gifts either before or after Black Friday, do it. If you can’t, make a list, map out your plan of attack, stick to your list and attack strategy and invest in an athletic support cup (for the male readers, obviously). And if a stocky lady with short brown hair wearing glasses and a gray sweatshirt gets in your way, watch out, she means business.
Don’t ask why I went. It’s irrelevant. It really doesn’t matter. Really. OKAY!! I’ll tell you. Why else would I get up at 3 in the morning to be at Kohl’s by 4, Wal-Mart by 5, Home Depot by 6 and Target immediately following? Just to get a list of gifts so we could save $250 and lose valuable sleep that takes 4 days to recover from? Why? You know why! So at 6:30 on Christmas morning our children can run down the stairs with sleepy in their eyes and giddiness in their hearts. So they can turn the corner and experience pure unadulterated joy because some arthritic fat guy in a red suit landed 8 reindeer on our roof, somehow fit down our narrow soot covered chimney without setting off the alarm, ate all the rice krispie treats and drank the room temperature milk, managed to not make a sound while he left presents under the tree and left in the blink of an eye. I can just see it now. They will be so excited they won’t be able to see straight. They won’t be able to stop talking about what “Santa” brought them. They will want to rip into every one of their toys and play with them like it is the last toy on earth. They’ll run to their stockings and dump them out on the floor and rummage through the candy and rinky-dink toys “Santa” thought they just HAD to have. Then at approximately 6:37 it will all be over and we will be sitting around looking at each other wondering what the crap we do for the next 5 hours until we go to the grandparent’s house and do it all over again! All this hype and build up for about 7 minutes of insanity. I don’t know about you, but I CANNOT wait!
So that’s why I was up at 3 in the morning the Friday after Thanksgiving doing my part to put retailers back on the black side of the bottom line. Overall it wasn’t that bad. Corey and I kept a pretty good attitude and had I not been with my wife, I wouldn’t have had nearly as good a time. However, I wouldn’t necessarily recommend it to any of you. If you can afford to buy your gifts either before or after Black Friday, do it. If you can’t, make a list, map out your plan of attack, stick to your list and attack strategy and invest in an athletic support cup (for the male readers, obviously). And if a stocky lady with short brown hair wearing glasses and a gray sweatshirt gets in your way, watch out, she means business.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Too Much Time On My Hands
Well our season ended abruptly Saturday in Mesquite. We lost to Waco Midway and shouldn't have. We had dominated every statistical category throughout the game but were still behind. We KNEW at half that we were gonna win. Never a doubt in anyone's mind. The score was 14-10 Midway with about 2 minutes to go in the 3rd quarter when all hell broke loose. With Midway's drive having stalled on an errant pass into the endzone on 3rd and 13, one of our corners felt like the official should have called pass interference on the WR. The problem wasn't that he FELT the official should have made the call, the problem was he voiced it to the official and probably said some things that weren't particularly nice b/c the official threw him out of the game. One of our D-Linemen took umbrage to the official throwing one of his buddies out and he let the ref know it. He in turn got the hook and a one way ticket off the field. Well, the fun didn't stop there. Our ball boy threw the ball in to the official, the same one who just tossed two of our players, and it apparently had a little too much on it, b/c the official THREW THE BALL BOY OUT OF THE GAME!! (Oh, by the way, the said ball boy just happens to be our head coach's son) I cannot make this stuff up. So anyway, instead of 4th and 13 and a 40 yard field goal attempt into the wind to make it 17-10 at worst, they get the ball first and goal and inevitably score a touchdown. And the rest, as you all know, is history. As a matter of fact that may be the first time in the history of football that 2 players and a ball boy were thrown out of the game by the same referee and in a matter of about 90 seconds. What a joke.
So, needless to say, I have a little time on my hands. Too much as a matter of fact. We are out of school all week (which is ridiculous, b/c we go to school until June 10th). Well the honey-do's have apparently been piling up during the season, because after one day of hanging pictures, re-arranging our bedroom, relocating furniture throughout the house, cleaning out the fireplace, washing and folding laundry and keeping our 3 angels from killing each other all day, I am contemplating taking on a second job or start drinking something stiffer than Corona Light. I'll let you know.
Evidence that kids do say the darndest things:
Drew stayed with my sister and his 4 year old cousin, Eli, over the weekend instead of going to the game. When Corey went to pick him up, the following conversation took place between two 4 year olds and a grown woman:
Drew: Mom, when I was sleeping too long at Eli's house, I accidentally pee'd in Eli's bed.
Corey: Why did you do that?
Eli: Yeah, why did you do that again?
Drew: I didn't do it AGAIN, I just did it one time.
Eli: I guess your peanuts (their term for their man parts) didn't tell you to wake up and go potty.
Drew: Why would they do that? They can't even talk.
Eli: Oh.
Today as I was elbow deep in boxes trying to find our Christmas decorations in the garage, I overheard the following conversation between Baylie and Drew.
Drew: Hey Baylie, did you know that Adam and Ebe were in the Garden of Even.
Baylie: Drew...it's Eve and they were in the Garden of Eden.
Drew: Yeah. And they ate from the tree of knowledge.
Baylie: Yeah, but God didn't want them too.
Drew: Yeah, but Ebe...uh Eve made Adam eat it because the devil told them too. (at least he knows at a young age that Eve is the root of man's sinful nature)
Baylie: I know.
Drew: That's called sin, when you do something the devil tells you to. That's sin Baylie.
Baylie: Yeah, we should always do what God tells us to.
Drew: Hey Baylie, if you told me to eat an apple from the tree of knowledge and God didn't want me too, I wouldn't do it because that would be a sin.
Baylie: (No response. Probably wasn't real sure how to respond to that.)
So anyway, here are some pictures of the little evangelists.
Don't let those smiles fool you. Especially the one on the right.
Some people say he resembles me. I will call him...Mini-Me
Thankfully they look like their momma!
The root of my happiness.
Uh-huh. We tried to tell you. Those pictures above...that's what you see. This is our world. Every morning it's something with her. This day, it was breakfast. You see that bag of Cocoa Puffs?"I DON'T WANT THAT MUCH!" That means there weren't enough in there for her!
I gotta go, Mr. Corona is trapped in the fridge and wants out. And you know me, always looking to help a brother out.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Jesus Loves The Little Children.
I know it has been a while, so keep your cute little comments to yourself. Football season isn’t exactly prime blogging time. (By the way, we finished the regular season 8-1 and are playing in the first round of the playoffs against Whitehouse this Friday night. Go Tigers!) Tonight, though, Corey seems to find it necessary to torture me with an episode of “The Hills” that she has recorded. A man can only take so much of something that has absolutely NO substantial value. I was on the verge of gouging my eyes out with a butter knife. On my way to the silverware drawer, I passed the computer and decided to blog, instead. Seriously, has anyone seen that stupid show? It is about NOTHING. The girls on that show are about as intelligent as an inbred retard from Crossett, Arkansas (trust me, they’re stupid). And they are about as interesting as an 80 year old Harvard professor giving a lecture on quantum physics. The show is about people who are famous for being famous. What the….? If you watch that show, stop. If you don’t watch it, don’t start. It is merely evidence as to the dumbing down of our society. What happened to classics like Cheers, Dukes of Hazzard, Sanford and Son, The Cosby Show…you get the picture. There are no shows like that on anymore. And if it is up to my wife, they won’t EVER be back on. Thanks a lot MTV.
Anyway, enough about ignorance. Let’s talk about me. Just kidding. Let’s talk about Drew. And how much he is like his daddy. We got a report from his school that Drew had been kissing some of the girls at school. The report didn’t come from one of his teachers, it came in the form of his older sister tattling on him (Which, by the way is one of our 2 deadly sins. The other one being no whining.) So I asked Drew if he had been kissing some of the girls at school. He looked at me and said, “Yes.” I asked him why he was kissing the girls at school. He said, “I don’t know. They didn’t ask me to, I just kissed them.” Now here is where a father is at a conundrum. You see, I have 2 daughters as well. I don’t want some snotty-nosed kid running around kissing on my girls. But it is different with boys. Kissing on girls is better than the alternative. A LOT BETTER. Plus, he can’t help it, he takes after his daddy. And if you only have girls, you understand my stance on this. And if you only have boys, you will never understand my opinion on that end of it, but I know you understand my happiness in his selection as to which gender was the target of his affection. So, what do I do? I told him not to go around school kissing the girls (I couldn’t let it get out of hand). He said okay and acted like it was no big deal. Well the next day we asked our sitter, Amanda, about it (who, by the way, has been a blessing from God. Our kids love her and she loves our kids. She picks up Baylie from school, takes her to the child care center where our other ones are and where she works part-time, and she brings them all home after school.). She laughed and said that Drew walked into school that day and announced, “My dad said I can’t kiss anymore girls at school…..but he didn’t say they couldn’t kiss me.” Amanda said the girls chased Drew around all day kissing and hugging him. He learned at a young age to use reverse psychology on them and play hard to get. That’s the kind of stuff you don’t figure out until WAY later on in life. That’s my boy.
All of this would have never come to fruition had Baylie not spilled the beans on her brother. I didn’t get too mad at her though. She can’t help it. It’s in her nature. She is the most thoughtful kid I know. I don’t know a lot of kids, but she is definitely the most thoughtful. I’m sure it because she is the oldest, but she is very protective and motherly towards Drew and Casey. She hates, absolutely HATES, for the little ones to get a spanking or get in trouble. It kills her. She is brought to near tears when they are upset. If she has something that they want, she gives it to them (we fuss at her and tell her not to give in to them, but she doesn’t care). If they want to sit where she is sitting, she gets up and moves. If they want the cup she is drinking out of, she gives it to them. She helps me and Corey with them all the time. She gets them something to eat or drink if we don’t want to get up for the 79th time to get it. She helps getting them ready in the morning. She tries to console them when they are sad or mad. They know it and they take advantage of her all the time, especially Casey (imagine that). She is very sweet and sensitive toward other people’s thoughts and feelings and especially those of her brother and sister. I know that is a good trait, but I don’t want her to be a push over. So Corey and I try to talk to her about telling them “no” sometimes. Hasn’t worked yet. Well, somehow, the subject of having another baby came up with her and Corey. (I’m still trying to figure out how that subject just “comes up”. It doesn’t. You have to be thinking about it. Apparently Corey has been thinking about it. That’s Great! Of course, if you watch The Hills long enough, your mind starts to wander b/c they never say anything useful. So I figure that’s where it started. Damn you MTV!) Back to the story. Corey asked Baylie what she thought about having another baby. Baylie looked at her with an are-you-kidding-me look and made a sound something like, “fmphnsh”. Corey asked what that meant. Baylie looked at her and, as serious as she could be, she told Corey, “I just don’t think I can handle another kid right now. Maybe when Casey gets a little bit older and starts acting a little better. But not right now.” I FEEL YA SISTER!!
Speaking of that little sweet innocent one. You know…the one who discourages me and Corey from repopulating the earth with beautiful, intelligent babies. Yeah that one. Corey was at Smokey Joe’s BBQ on kid’s night with her parents (Tuesday nights. One free kids meal with the purchase of an adult meal!) They had one of those blow up slides that have a retractor beam in them that sucks parents directly off I-30 and right into the restaraunt. You know the ones that are about 2 stories high that you see at used car lots at the end of the month when they are trying to clear out those six gold 2003 Ford Taurus’s they have left on the lot. Anyway, Corey and her parents were enjoying a nice adult conversation and the kids were frolicking up and down the slide. As East Texans say, they were having a good ol’ time. A Kodak moment. Memories that will last a lifetime. You get the picture. Then it was time to leave. Well, not according to Casey’s watch. According to her estimation, they still had a LONG time before it was time to go. But Momma don’t play that. Momma said it was time to go. So, it was time to go. That didn’t mean Casey had to like it. She threw herself down in the parking lot, took her shoes off and threw them across the pavement. Corey stayed calm, looked at Casey told her to pick her shoes up and get in the car. Casey wasn’t trying to hear that crap. She looked at Corey and yelled at her, “No. I don’t want to go home. I don’t want to get my shoes. I want to stay and play.” Corey snatched her up by one arm and drug her to the car. That just pissed Casey off even more. She is LIVID at this point. Corey sets her in the car seat and buckles her in. Casey doesn’t want to buckle in her car seat. Corey knows this because Casey told her, in her own sweet little way, “I don’t want to buckle in my car seat. I WANT my shoes on now. I don’t want to go home.” Corey doesn’t give in and walks around and gets in the car. When she gets around to the door, Baylie and Drew are yelling at Corey and Casey is still screaming. Corey turned around and saw that Casey’s fingers had gotten shut in the door. The problem is she was already so out of control, the inflexion in her cry never changed b/c it was already as loud as it could possibly be. Come to find out, the tips of her fingers just got pinched and she wasn’t hurt too bad. She’s lucky Corey was there and I wasn’t. She would have been asking to shut her fingers in the door after I got a hold of her. Later that week, we got a letter from Smokey Joe’s asking us not to come back because some of the other children had been traumatized by that “psychotic devil child”. Not really but I expect that letter any day now.
Anyway, enough about ignorance. Let’s talk about me. Just kidding. Let’s talk about Drew. And how much he is like his daddy. We got a report from his school that Drew had been kissing some of the girls at school. The report didn’t come from one of his teachers, it came in the form of his older sister tattling on him (Which, by the way is one of our 2 deadly sins. The other one being no whining.) So I asked Drew if he had been kissing some of the girls at school. He looked at me and said, “Yes.” I asked him why he was kissing the girls at school. He said, “I don’t know. They didn’t ask me to, I just kissed them.” Now here is where a father is at a conundrum. You see, I have 2 daughters as well. I don’t want some snotty-nosed kid running around kissing on my girls. But it is different with boys. Kissing on girls is better than the alternative. A LOT BETTER. Plus, he can’t help it, he takes after his daddy. And if you only have girls, you understand my stance on this. And if you only have boys, you will never understand my opinion on that end of it, but I know you understand my happiness in his selection as to which gender was the target of his affection. So, what do I do? I told him not to go around school kissing the girls (I couldn’t let it get out of hand). He said okay and acted like it was no big deal. Well the next day we asked our sitter, Amanda, about it (who, by the way, has been a blessing from God. Our kids love her and she loves our kids. She picks up Baylie from school, takes her to the child care center where our other ones are and where she works part-time, and she brings them all home after school.). She laughed and said that Drew walked into school that day and announced, “My dad said I can’t kiss anymore girls at school…..but he didn’t say they couldn’t kiss me.” Amanda said the girls chased Drew around all day kissing and hugging him. He learned at a young age to use reverse psychology on them and play hard to get. That’s the kind of stuff you don’t figure out until WAY later on in life. That’s my boy.
All of this would have never come to fruition had Baylie not spilled the beans on her brother. I didn’t get too mad at her though. She can’t help it. It’s in her nature. She is the most thoughtful kid I know. I don’t know a lot of kids, but she is definitely the most thoughtful. I’m sure it because she is the oldest, but she is very protective and motherly towards Drew and Casey. She hates, absolutely HATES, for the little ones to get a spanking or get in trouble. It kills her. She is brought to near tears when they are upset. If she has something that they want, she gives it to them (we fuss at her and tell her not to give in to them, but she doesn’t care). If they want to sit where she is sitting, she gets up and moves. If they want the cup she is drinking out of, she gives it to them. She helps me and Corey with them all the time. She gets them something to eat or drink if we don’t want to get up for the 79th time to get it. She helps getting them ready in the morning. She tries to console them when they are sad or mad. They know it and they take advantage of her all the time, especially Casey (imagine that). She is very sweet and sensitive toward other people’s thoughts and feelings and especially those of her brother and sister. I know that is a good trait, but I don’t want her to be a push over. So Corey and I try to talk to her about telling them “no” sometimes. Hasn’t worked yet. Well, somehow, the subject of having another baby came up with her and Corey. (I’m still trying to figure out how that subject just “comes up”. It doesn’t. You have to be thinking about it. Apparently Corey has been thinking about it. That’s Great! Of course, if you watch The Hills long enough, your mind starts to wander b/c they never say anything useful. So I figure that’s where it started. Damn you MTV!) Back to the story. Corey asked Baylie what she thought about having another baby. Baylie looked at her with an are-you-kidding-me look and made a sound something like, “fmphnsh”. Corey asked what that meant. Baylie looked at her and, as serious as she could be, she told Corey, “I just don’t think I can handle another kid right now. Maybe when Casey gets a little bit older and starts acting a little better. But not right now.” I FEEL YA SISTER!!
Speaking of that little sweet innocent one. You know…the one who discourages me and Corey from repopulating the earth with beautiful, intelligent babies. Yeah that one. Corey was at Smokey Joe’s BBQ on kid’s night with her parents (Tuesday nights. One free kids meal with the purchase of an adult meal!) They had one of those blow up slides that have a retractor beam in them that sucks parents directly off I-30 and right into the restaraunt. You know the ones that are about 2 stories high that you see at used car lots at the end of the month when they are trying to clear out those six gold 2003 Ford Taurus’s they have left on the lot. Anyway, Corey and her parents were enjoying a nice adult conversation and the kids were frolicking up and down the slide. As East Texans say, they were having a good ol’ time. A Kodak moment. Memories that will last a lifetime. You get the picture. Then it was time to leave. Well, not according to Casey’s watch. According to her estimation, they still had a LONG time before it was time to go. But Momma don’t play that. Momma said it was time to go. So, it was time to go. That didn’t mean Casey had to like it. She threw herself down in the parking lot, took her shoes off and threw them across the pavement. Corey stayed calm, looked at Casey told her to pick her shoes up and get in the car. Casey wasn’t trying to hear that crap. She looked at Corey and yelled at her, “No. I don’t want to go home. I don’t want to get my shoes. I want to stay and play.” Corey snatched her up by one arm and drug her to the car. That just pissed Casey off even more. She is LIVID at this point. Corey sets her in the car seat and buckles her in. Casey doesn’t want to buckle in her car seat. Corey knows this because Casey told her, in her own sweet little way, “I don’t want to buckle in my car seat. I WANT my shoes on now. I don’t want to go home.” Corey doesn’t give in and walks around and gets in the car. When she gets around to the door, Baylie and Drew are yelling at Corey and Casey is still screaming. Corey turned around and saw that Casey’s fingers had gotten shut in the door. The problem is she was already so out of control, the inflexion in her cry never changed b/c it was already as loud as it could possibly be. Come to find out, the tips of her fingers just got pinched and she wasn’t hurt too bad. She’s lucky Corey was there and I wasn’t. She would have been asking to shut her fingers in the door after I got a hold of her. Later that week, we got a letter from Smokey Joe’s asking us not to come back because some of the other children had been traumatized by that “psychotic devil child”. Not really but I expect that letter any day now.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
The Drew Man Cometh
Sometimes we let Baylie and Drew stay up during nap time to either watch a movie or color or draw or pretty much anything that consists of being quiet and letting that little-sweet-cute innocent one we have sleep. Because if that little one doesn’t get a nap; we need a 6 pack of something potent to get us through the evening. Anyway, this particular time was going just fine (Casey asleep, Baylie and Drew watching a movie upstairs in our room. Emphasis on CASEY ASLEEP) until we heard a thud, followed by what sounded like a herd of wildebeests trampling down the staircase. I got up and met them at the bottom of the stairs to find Drew crying and Baylie already pleading her case (a usual sign of guilt). They both started yelling and simultaneously telling their version of the ruckus. After sending them to their respective rooms for about 10 minutes to calm down, they came back down stairs and I got Baylie’s side of the story: Baylie “accidentally” pushed Drew off the bed. He bounced up and told Baylie, “That was fun, do it again”. What the little Einstein didn’t know is that he wouldn’t fall the exact same way and land exactly like he did the first time. As a matter of fact, he fell right on his head. At that point it was no longer his IDEA, it was Baylie’s FAULT. The following conversation ensued:
Dad: “Did you tell Baylie to push you off the bed?”
Drew: “Not the first time.”
Baylie: “It was an accident.”
Drew: “Nuh uh, she did it on purpose.”
Baylie: “No I didn’t”
Dad: “HEY!! DID. YOU. TELL. BAYLIE. TO. PUSH. YOU. OFF. THE. BED?” (sometimes I have to slow down for him)
Drew: “No.”
Baylie: (In tears) “Yes he did. I PROMISE.”
Drew: “Not the first time!”
Dad: “Did you the second time.”
Drew: “Yes”
Dad: “Why did you ask Baylie to push you off the bed.”
Drew: “I don’t know.”
Dad: “Was it fun the first time?”
Drew: “Yes, but I didn’t ask her to the first time. She just pushed me.”
Dad: (On the verge of strangling the little genius) “I understand that, but did you ask her to push you the SECOND time?”
Drew: (With finger in mouth) “Mmmmhhmmm.”
Dad: “Well that’s what you get then. You asked her to push you and she did. What did you expect?”
Mom: (Interjecting her motherly wisdom) “You shouldn’t have told her to push you.”
Drew: “I didn’t tell her to push me the first time.”
That dude was bound and determined to get her in trouble!
But that little guy does love his sisters and sometimes he shows it better than other times. With the start of the school year, Corey and I remembered an instance when he found a good way to express his adoration for his older sister. (Usually it is in the form of repeating EVERY word she says, pestering her to the point of punching him and both of them getting in trouble. He has a ways to go in learning how to deal with females. But, if he sticks with me, he’ll be just fine!!) Anyway, back to our story.
When we were leaving Nacogdoches, Baylie was really sad that she was leaving her school. She loved her teachers, her friends, her principal and everything about Raquet Elementary. We knew she would be fine in her new school and we tried to pump her up and get her ready for her last day. We thought she would do fine and for the most part, she did. Well Drew just happened to be with me when we picked her up. And just as we expected, Baylie was pretty sad. She was fighting off tears. Each of her classmates had made her a going away card. She was sitting in the back of the van beside Drew. She started reading some of the things her classmates wrote to her and it made her even sadder. He could tell that she was upset so he reached down and grabbed a 4-leaf clover that he had made at pre-school. (The day he made it, he said it was for me; he left it in the car and the next day told Corey that he made it for her, and now it was for Baylie! That little kiss-a*#.) He handed it to her and said, “Here Baylie, I made this at school. It’s for you. It’s a shamrock and it will make you lucky at your new school.
He’s more like his daddy than I thought!
We play our first game this week, at John Tyler. It’s nice to finally be at a place where the talk is about how much we SHOULD win by. Not just hoping that we keep it close! Corey is giddy because she can pull up the guide and scroll far enough over to see the college football listings and check out the matchups. She loves college football. She will sit and watch a good game even if I am not home! MY JOB IS DONE! She has come a long way since that first date when I swept her off her football-deficient feet. (That’s a story for another post). I’m so proud I could kiss her just thinking about it. As a matter of fact, I think I will. Right now. Good Night.
Dad: “Did you tell Baylie to push you off the bed?”
Drew: “Not the first time.”
Baylie: “It was an accident.”
Drew: “Nuh uh, she did it on purpose.”
Baylie: “No I didn’t”
Dad: “HEY!! DID. YOU. TELL. BAYLIE. TO. PUSH. YOU. OFF. THE. BED?” (sometimes I have to slow down for him)
Drew: “No.”
Baylie: (In tears) “Yes he did. I PROMISE.”
Drew: “Not the first time!”
Dad: “Did you the second time.”
Drew: “Yes”
Dad: “Why did you ask Baylie to push you off the bed.”
Drew: “I don’t know.”
Dad: “Was it fun the first time?”
Drew: “Yes, but I didn’t ask her to the first time. She just pushed me.”
Dad: (On the verge of strangling the little genius) “I understand that, but did you ask her to push you the SECOND time?”
Drew: (With finger in mouth) “Mmmmhhmmm.”
Dad: “Well that’s what you get then. You asked her to push you and she did. What did you expect?”
Mom: (Interjecting her motherly wisdom) “You shouldn’t have told her to push you.”
Drew: “I didn’t tell her to push me the first time.”
That dude was bound and determined to get her in trouble!
But that little guy does love his sisters and sometimes he shows it better than other times. With the start of the school year, Corey and I remembered an instance when he found a good way to express his adoration for his older sister. (Usually it is in the form of repeating EVERY word she says, pestering her to the point of punching him and both of them getting in trouble. He has a ways to go in learning how to deal with females. But, if he sticks with me, he’ll be just fine!!) Anyway, back to our story.
When we were leaving Nacogdoches, Baylie was really sad that she was leaving her school. She loved her teachers, her friends, her principal and everything about Raquet Elementary. We knew she would be fine in her new school and we tried to pump her up and get her ready for her last day. We thought she would do fine and for the most part, she did. Well Drew just happened to be with me when we picked her up. And just as we expected, Baylie was pretty sad. She was fighting off tears. Each of her classmates had made her a going away card. She was sitting in the back of the van beside Drew. She started reading some of the things her classmates wrote to her and it made her even sadder. He could tell that she was upset so he reached down and grabbed a 4-leaf clover that he had made at pre-school. (The day he made it, he said it was for me; he left it in the car and the next day told Corey that he made it for her, and now it was for Baylie! That little kiss-a*#.) He handed it to her and said, “Here Baylie, I made this at school. It’s for you. It’s a shamrock and it will make you lucky at your new school.
He’s more like his daddy than I thought!
We play our first game this week, at John Tyler. It’s nice to finally be at a place where the talk is about how much we SHOULD win by. Not just hoping that we keep it close! Corey is giddy because she can pull up the guide and scroll far enough over to see the college football listings and check out the matchups. She loves college football. She will sit and watch a good game even if I am not home! MY JOB IS DONE! She has come a long way since that first date when I swept her off her football-deficient feet. (That’s a story for another post). I’m so proud I could kiss her just thinking about it. As a matter of fact, I think I will. Right now. Good Night.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Home Sweet Home
Hello strangers. How’s it going? It’s been a while. Sorry about that. We’ve been a little busy. When we haven’t been busy, I have been too tired to stare at a computer and try to come up with something cute. I haven’t been in a cute mood. So as you regular readers know, based off of the time it's been since our last post, this will be a pretty long post. If you must, break it up and read it in parts. Drink some coffee. Take bathroom breaks. Save some for tomorrow. Just be happy it’s something.
The last time you heard from us, we were getting ready to move into our house. You Remember our June 4th post; “The people who are occupying our house are moving out this weekend so we are going to start painting and getting it ready to move. Hopefully within 2 weeks we will be sleeping in our own bed.” Well…optimism will only get you so far.
The day the previous owners walked out of the house, Saturday June 7th, Corey and I had a bounce in our step. We were gonna walk in, scrape some acoustic texture (popcorn) off the ceilings, remove some wallpaper, paint some rooms and move our stuff in. Two weeks. MAX. Thinking back on that day. It was the WORST day of our married lives. Literally. What was giddy excitement, soon turned to angry frustration. For starters, we could have earned platinum membership privileges with locks of love for dogs with all the dog hair we got off the floors. There was dog pee stained in the carpet, on the doors, on the floors, on cabinets and in places that dogs can’t even fit into. The house was disgustingly filthy. So we had to clean. No, we had to decontaminate our house before we could do anything. Needless to say, we were riding a wave of emotions with nothing more than a flat bottom paddleboat to take us through it!
So Corey started cleaning and I started trying to remove the wallpaper border in our room. Allow me to let you in on a little secret: there is not a product on the market that is worth a crap when it comes to removing wallpaper. If there is, they don’t sell it over the counter. After about 3 hours of scouring, squirting, scraping and peeling, I had 1/4th of our room free of the I Love the 80’s wallpaper border. At this rate, with all of the wallpaper in the house, we would have moved in about Spring Break. I was frustrated and if the guy from Lowe’s, the one who told me that bottle of wallpaper crap was the best thing since rice krispie treats, had been standing in my house, I would be awaiting trial for aggravated assault.
So, because I was fuming mad at Mr. Home Improvement expert, what did I do? What most red blooded males do, I took it out on my wife. Which turned out to be somewhat of a volatile situation because she couldn’t talk without crying or see straight because she was so mad. I don’t think I have to paint you a picture of why she was so mad. Just imagine being on your hands and knees scrubbing dog pee for about 4 hours. So instead of escalating an already explosive situation, I did what most red blooded males would have done. I left. I didn’t even know where I was going. I just left. I started at Lowe’s b/c I was going to give Mr. Home Improvement expert a small piece of my mind. Seriously. But he wasn’t working when I got there. He must have known I was coming! So I walked around looking for something to jump off the shelf and land in my arms screaming, “Hey, take me home. I can fix your problem. I can help you.” You know a good ole sign from God. Isn’t that how he works? Well God must have been busy with the starving pigmies in New Guinea at that moment because I left Lowe’s empty handed. So on to Sherwin Williams. When I got to the paint experts, I was a lost, beaten-down, wandering puppy dog. Luckily, God sent an angel to work that day. Her name was Lindsey. I told her my problem. I told her I didn’t know what to do. I told her I needed help. I told her if she didn’t help me, I was holding her personally accountable for wrecking my marriage. (Someone needed to be blamed) She had the answer to my problems and my prayers. The Wagner Power Tex. A do-it-yourself sized electric mud gun that sprays texture on your walls (covering wallpaper) and ceilings all wrapped up in a 12 inch by 12 inch box of marital bliss. After an hour of motivational prodding and a short tutorial, I was sold. She convinced me that I could master the art of mudding. I was willing to try anything. So I became the proud owner of a texture gun. I was a mud man. And, most importantly, still married.
Financial advisors suggest not making spur of the moment purchases. And usually when I make one of these purchases, I am a little apprehensive to tell Corey. This time, however, when I got out of the car with my Power Tex, I felt like Tim The Tool Man Taylor. I wanted to growl and grunt but I figured Corey wasn’t in the mood. Corey didn’t even complain. I think she was just glad I was trying something. So with a new power tool and a new attitude, we got to work…that next morning. At that point, I didn’t want anything to do with that marriage wrecking, money pit of a house for the rest of that day.
Well, three and a half weeks later, I had the experience necessary to be a certified professional mudder person. (That’s industry jargon) I scraped 2100 square feet of ceilings. (Note: You get a complimentary strain in your shoulders when you scrape acoustic off the ceilings, just as an added bonus). I sprayed and textured ceilings and walls. We painted EVERY square inch of walls in the house. With help from our Angelic Saleswoman at Sherwin Williams, we painted and faux finished our fireplace (it was already painted a dingy off-white). My dad and I knocked out a cabinet in our kitchen. We changed light fixtures. We painted our front door. We did about $15,000 dollars worth of work on our house ourselves. There is a show on DIY called Sweat Equity. Corey and I just laugh when it comes on; they ain’t got nothin on us! (Yes that’s correct English if you live in East Texas) So, if any of you need some work done around your house, call me. I’ll let you borrow my tools.
So we finally moved in on July 2nd. It’s not our dream house, but this house feels more like home than any of our other houses we have lived in. It’s got a lot of our elbow grease and sweat all over it and we are proud of it. That’s why we like to be here. Therefore, if you call and invite us over, we are likely to politely decline. We waited a long time to move in and put a lot of hard work into it. We like to hang out here. Plus, we spent all of our gas money on joint compound. So unless you are calling to cook us dinner…
The last time you heard from us, we were getting ready to move into our house. You Remember our June 4th post; “The people who are occupying our house are moving out this weekend so we are going to start painting and getting it ready to move. Hopefully within 2 weeks we will be sleeping in our own bed.” Well…optimism will only get you so far.
The day the previous owners walked out of the house, Saturday June 7th, Corey and I had a bounce in our step. We were gonna walk in, scrape some acoustic texture (popcorn) off the ceilings, remove some wallpaper, paint some rooms and move our stuff in. Two weeks. MAX. Thinking back on that day. It was the WORST day of our married lives. Literally. What was giddy excitement, soon turned to angry frustration. For starters, we could have earned platinum membership privileges with locks of love for dogs with all the dog hair we got off the floors. There was dog pee stained in the carpet, on the doors, on the floors, on cabinets and in places that dogs can’t even fit into. The house was disgustingly filthy. So we had to clean. No, we had to decontaminate our house before we could do anything. Needless to say, we were riding a wave of emotions with nothing more than a flat bottom paddleboat to take us through it!
So Corey started cleaning and I started trying to remove the wallpaper border in our room. Allow me to let you in on a little secret: there is not a product on the market that is worth a crap when it comes to removing wallpaper. If there is, they don’t sell it over the counter. After about 3 hours of scouring, squirting, scraping and peeling, I had 1/4th of our room free of the I Love the 80’s wallpaper border. At this rate, with all of the wallpaper in the house, we would have moved in about Spring Break. I was frustrated and if the guy from Lowe’s, the one who told me that bottle of wallpaper crap was the best thing since rice krispie treats, had been standing in my house, I would be awaiting trial for aggravated assault.
So, because I was fuming mad at Mr. Home Improvement expert, what did I do? What most red blooded males do, I took it out on my wife. Which turned out to be somewhat of a volatile situation because she couldn’t talk without crying or see straight because she was so mad. I don’t think I have to paint you a picture of why she was so mad. Just imagine being on your hands and knees scrubbing dog pee for about 4 hours. So instead of escalating an already explosive situation, I did what most red blooded males would have done. I left. I didn’t even know where I was going. I just left. I started at Lowe’s b/c I was going to give Mr. Home Improvement expert a small piece of my mind. Seriously. But he wasn’t working when I got there. He must have known I was coming! So I walked around looking for something to jump off the shelf and land in my arms screaming, “Hey, take me home. I can fix your problem. I can help you.” You know a good ole sign from God. Isn’t that how he works? Well God must have been busy with the starving pigmies in New Guinea at that moment because I left Lowe’s empty handed. So on to Sherwin Williams. When I got to the paint experts, I was a lost, beaten-down, wandering puppy dog. Luckily, God sent an angel to work that day. Her name was Lindsey. I told her my problem. I told her I didn’t know what to do. I told her I needed help. I told her if she didn’t help me, I was holding her personally accountable for wrecking my marriage. (Someone needed to be blamed) She had the answer to my problems and my prayers. The Wagner Power Tex. A do-it-yourself sized electric mud gun that sprays texture on your walls (covering wallpaper) and ceilings all wrapped up in a 12 inch by 12 inch box of marital bliss. After an hour of motivational prodding and a short tutorial, I was sold. She convinced me that I could master the art of mudding. I was willing to try anything. So I became the proud owner of a texture gun. I was a mud man. And, most importantly, still married.
Financial advisors suggest not making spur of the moment purchases. And usually when I make one of these purchases, I am a little apprehensive to tell Corey. This time, however, when I got out of the car with my Power Tex, I felt like Tim The Tool Man Taylor. I wanted to growl and grunt but I figured Corey wasn’t in the mood. Corey didn’t even complain. I think she was just glad I was trying something. So with a new power tool and a new attitude, we got to work…that next morning. At that point, I didn’t want anything to do with that marriage wrecking, money pit of a house for the rest of that day.
Well, three and a half weeks later, I had the experience necessary to be a certified professional mudder person. (That’s industry jargon) I scraped 2100 square feet of ceilings. (Note: You get a complimentary strain in your shoulders when you scrape acoustic off the ceilings, just as an added bonus). I sprayed and textured ceilings and walls. We painted EVERY square inch of walls in the house. With help from our Angelic Saleswoman at Sherwin Williams, we painted and faux finished our fireplace (it was already painted a dingy off-white). My dad and I knocked out a cabinet in our kitchen. We changed light fixtures. We painted our front door. We did about $15,000 dollars worth of work on our house ourselves. There is a show on DIY called Sweat Equity. Corey and I just laugh when it comes on; they ain’t got nothin on us! (Yes that’s correct English if you live in East Texas) So, if any of you need some work done around your house, call me. I’ll let you borrow my tools.
So we finally moved in on July 2nd. It’s not our dream house, but this house feels more like home than any of our other houses we have lived in. It’s got a lot of our elbow grease and sweat all over it and we are proud of it. That’s why we like to be here. Therefore, if you call and invite us over, we are likely to politely decline. We waited a long time to move in and put a lot of hard work into it. We like to hang out here. Plus, we spent all of our gas money on joint compound. So unless you are calling to cook us dinner…
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Little Angels
Well how’s this for inconsistency? Our last post was only 17 days from our previous one. This one is over 6 weeks since the last one. I can’t say that life got in the way b/c we haven’t done a whole lot outside of our routine life, which is part of the reason we (I) haven’t posted. The cold hard truth is…our daily lives are just that, routine.
Although thinking about it, I don’t think using the word routine is fair since Webster’s defines the adjective form of routine as, “following or agreeing with established form, custom, or rules”. HA! That is the furthest thing from what goes on in our household. Established form, customs and rules be damned! I think our kids are banding together to form a mutiny and try to over-throw the communist parenting dictatorship that we practice. I got my eyes on those little Nazis.
So our daily battle of good vs evil (you decide who is who) always starts with the evil dictators (I’ll gladly hold that title, you don’t have to decide) threatening the defiant insolents with solitary confinement--complete with only bread and water and no contact with the outside world for a week--just to get them out of bed and get their clothes on. Which has become another issue in and of itself. For some indescribable reason, Drew has a new found affection for clothes that are too small for him. HE WILL NOT PUT ON A NEW SHIRT WITHOUT A FIGHT (a perfectly good shirt that Corey spent hours upon end diligently scouring the aisles of Target, Kohls, TJ Maxx, Old Navy, The Children’s Place and any other store within a 200 mile radius of Texarkana just to find him the right shirt. And her the right shoes. And baylie the right dress. And Casey the right shorts. And…you get the picture). But give the little guy credit; he is stubborn like his momma. He will take a spanking like a champ before he puts on a new shirt. The ones from last year work just fine, thank you very much. I think, however, we have solved the problem.
Two Sundays ago, as we were getting ready for church, he threw one of the biggest tantrums he has ever thrown. All because his shirt was too big, his shorts were too big and his shoes hurt his feet (canvas boat shoes). After attempts at reasoning with the little Stalin clone, I had had enough! I snatched him up by his arm and spanked him as hard as I have ever spanked him. Sat him on the couch and walked away. He was wailing and hollering like I had just cut off his arm (little did he know, that was my next resolution tactic). Well Corey had heard all she wanted and she went in and told him to stop crying or she was going to spank him too and give him something to cry about!! (We do turn into our parents, scary) Well he didn’t stop, so she got the wooden spoon out and proceeded to give him an excuse to cry. She then informed him that he could sit on the couch crying and get another spanking or he could go put his clothes on. By this time, I think he realized he needed his left leg to walk correctly for the rest of his life and at the rate he was going, it was going to be beaten off by the time church started. He decided to put his clothes on. When we finished with Drew, we walked back into the bedroom and Casey was standing in the middle of the room, fully dressed. She looked up at me and said, “Daddy”. I snapped at her and said, “WHAT?!” She looked back at me with those big beautiful hazel eyes and said, “My shirt’s not too big.” Hallelujah! Let’s go to church. At that point I needed some Jesus.
So this past Sunday when Drew started whimpering about the clothes we picked out, I looked at him and calmly said, “Drew, do you remember what happened last Sunday? So I’m gonna give you a choice today, you can either put your clothes on like I asked you to, or you can get a spanking and I will put your clothes on for you.” Because after all, life is full of choices. And I was so proud he made the right choice that morning. He even ASKED for his boat shoes. I was going to let him wear his tennis shoes. Let’s keep that between you and me though.
But before you start singing Casey’s praises. Let me let you in on a little something about Casey. Sweet and innocent Casey. God bless her. She is so cute. She’s just adorable. She’s so precious. At least that is what you all tell us. I think the next person that says that, I am going to punch them right in the mouth then send that sweet, innocent, cute, adorable, precious little angel home with them and turn my phone off. She’s bad. Sometimes, in the hip hop culture, bad can mean bad or bad can mean good. Well, we live in the literal culture at our house and Casey is BAD. Meaning BAD. And when Mammy (grandma) tells Corey, after a morning fit, that she would have put her in the van and left her there while everyone else got ready to go. You know she is bad. She is the reason we only have 3 children. As stupid and inconsiderate and annoyingly retarded our society is becoming, I thought it may be our lot to try and populate the earth with as many God-fearing, respectful, intelligent children as we can to counteract the ignorance that is being produced on a daily basis. But somewhere along the way, we screwed it all up. God may have another in store for us, but I think he knows that if he added another element to our three-ring madhouse right now, they would commit Corey and me, take the kids and put them in protective custody. Although, if that happened, they would just bring them back and release us under the pretense that it takes a crazy person to care for our hoodlums.
If you haven’t already, before you call CPS, you should know we love our children. If we didn’t nobody else would. Just kidding. But seriously, they’re bad. For us, anyway. We always talk to them after we spank them, explain why we spanked them, tell them it hurts us more than it hurts them (We really are our parents!) and tell them we love them; and they are usually over it in about 27 seconds. I just don’t see the benefit of time out. I know it works for some parents but not us. I don’t think we got the right user’s manual on time out. If any of you have it…keep it. We’re gonna stick with this wooden spoon tactic for a while.
So everyday, by the time we have gotten the kids ready and into the car, it seems like it should be 5 or 6 in the evening. Only, it’s not. We still have to take them to preschool . You know, the place with the profanity-inducing construction that conveniently occurs between the hours of 7:30 to 5:30. Then we go to work, go back through construction hell to pick the kids up, feed them dinner (I’ll save that experience for another day), bathe the kids (another blog-worthy event, another time maybe), and put them to bed (again, everything is a process for us). Then, finally, Corey and I try to bring our blood pressure and heart rate down enough to talk to each other in a manner that would insist that we do, in fact, love each other before we both pass out from exhaution. So I’m sorry about the length of the post and the time between them. Hopefully, I will have more time in the present future. Being that it is summer and all.
Quick hits…We really enjoyed our visit to a church this past Sunday. It was our 3rd visit. We are going to visit some more and try to get into a Sunday School class to see how we connect with the people. We will keep you posted…The people who are occupying our house are moving out this weekend so we are going to start painting and getting it ready to move. Hopefully within 2 weeks we will be sleeping in our own bed. Not a moment too soon.
Deep Thought…Is it me, or does the popcorn button on the microwave ALWAYS burn your popcorn? I think the microwave companies are getting kick backs from the popcorn companies to burn the popcorn so we will have to buy more. I need to find out whom to talk to about this. It’s gone on long enough.
There's more, but I've got to run. Gonna go buy Drew a size 4 shirt and make him wear it to school so the other kids can laugh at him and call him names like: weird-boy-with-shirt-that-fits, or say things things like, "Hey look at that kid, he looks stupid with that right-size shirt on!
Take care and support your local high school football team.
Although thinking about it, I don’t think using the word routine is fair since Webster’s defines the adjective form of routine as, “following or agreeing with established form, custom, or rules”. HA! That is the furthest thing from what goes on in our household. Established form, customs and rules be damned! I think our kids are banding together to form a mutiny and try to over-throw the communist parenting dictatorship that we practice. I got my eyes on those little Nazis.
So our daily battle of good vs evil (you decide who is who) always starts with the evil dictators (I’ll gladly hold that title, you don’t have to decide) threatening the defiant insolents with solitary confinement--complete with only bread and water and no contact with the outside world for a week--just to get them out of bed and get their clothes on. Which has become another issue in and of itself. For some indescribable reason, Drew has a new found affection for clothes that are too small for him. HE WILL NOT PUT ON A NEW SHIRT WITHOUT A FIGHT (a perfectly good shirt that Corey spent hours upon end diligently scouring the aisles of Target, Kohls, TJ Maxx, Old Navy, The Children’s Place and any other store within a 200 mile radius of Texarkana just to find him the right shirt. And her the right shoes. And baylie the right dress. And Casey the right shorts. And…you get the picture). But give the little guy credit; he is stubborn like his momma. He will take a spanking like a champ before he puts on a new shirt. The ones from last year work just fine, thank you very much. I think, however, we have solved the problem.
Two Sundays ago, as we were getting ready for church, he threw one of the biggest tantrums he has ever thrown. All because his shirt was too big, his shorts were too big and his shoes hurt his feet (canvas boat shoes). After attempts at reasoning with the little Stalin clone, I had had enough! I snatched him up by his arm and spanked him as hard as I have ever spanked him. Sat him on the couch and walked away. He was wailing and hollering like I had just cut off his arm (little did he know, that was my next resolution tactic). Well Corey had heard all she wanted and she went in and told him to stop crying or she was going to spank him too and give him something to cry about!! (We do turn into our parents, scary) Well he didn’t stop, so she got the wooden spoon out and proceeded to give him an excuse to cry. She then informed him that he could sit on the couch crying and get another spanking or he could go put his clothes on. By this time, I think he realized he needed his left leg to walk correctly for the rest of his life and at the rate he was going, it was going to be beaten off by the time church started. He decided to put his clothes on. When we finished with Drew, we walked back into the bedroom and Casey was standing in the middle of the room, fully dressed. She looked up at me and said, “Daddy”. I snapped at her and said, “WHAT?!” She looked back at me with those big beautiful hazel eyes and said, “My shirt’s not too big.” Hallelujah! Let’s go to church. At that point I needed some Jesus.
So this past Sunday when Drew started whimpering about the clothes we picked out, I looked at him and calmly said, “Drew, do you remember what happened last Sunday? So I’m gonna give you a choice today, you can either put your clothes on like I asked you to, or you can get a spanking and I will put your clothes on for you.” Because after all, life is full of choices. And I was so proud he made the right choice that morning. He even ASKED for his boat shoes. I was going to let him wear his tennis shoes. Let’s keep that between you and me though.
But before you start singing Casey’s praises. Let me let you in on a little something about Casey. Sweet and innocent Casey. God bless her. She is so cute. She’s just adorable. She’s so precious. At least that is what you all tell us. I think the next person that says that, I am going to punch them right in the mouth then send that sweet, innocent, cute, adorable, precious little angel home with them and turn my phone off. She’s bad. Sometimes, in the hip hop culture, bad can mean bad or bad can mean good. Well, we live in the literal culture at our house and Casey is BAD. Meaning BAD. And when Mammy (grandma) tells Corey, after a morning fit, that she would have put her in the van and left her there while everyone else got ready to go. You know she is bad. She is the reason we only have 3 children. As stupid and inconsiderate and annoyingly retarded our society is becoming, I thought it may be our lot to try and populate the earth with as many God-fearing, respectful, intelligent children as we can to counteract the ignorance that is being produced on a daily basis. But somewhere along the way, we screwed it all up. God may have another in store for us, but I think he knows that if he added another element to our three-ring madhouse right now, they would commit Corey and me, take the kids and put them in protective custody. Although, if that happened, they would just bring them back and release us under the pretense that it takes a crazy person to care for our hoodlums.
If you haven’t already, before you call CPS, you should know we love our children. If we didn’t nobody else would. Just kidding. But seriously, they’re bad. For us, anyway. We always talk to them after we spank them, explain why we spanked them, tell them it hurts us more than it hurts them (We really are our parents!) and tell them we love them; and they are usually over it in about 27 seconds. I just don’t see the benefit of time out. I know it works for some parents but not us. I don’t think we got the right user’s manual on time out. If any of you have it…keep it. We’re gonna stick with this wooden spoon tactic for a while.
So everyday, by the time we have gotten the kids ready and into the car, it seems like it should be 5 or 6 in the evening. Only, it’s not. We still have to take them to preschool . You know, the place with the profanity-inducing construction that conveniently occurs between the hours of 7:30 to 5:30. Then we go to work, go back through construction hell to pick the kids up, feed them dinner (I’ll save that experience for another day), bathe the kids (another blog-worthy event, another time maybe), and put them to bed (again, everything is a process for us). Then, finally, Corey and I try to bring our blood pressure and heart rate down enough to talk to each other in a manner that would insist that we do, in fact, love each other before we both pass out from exhaution. So I’m sorry about the length of the post and the time between them. Hopefully, I will have more time in the present future. Being that it is summer and all.
Quick hits…We really enjoyed our visit to a church this past Sunday. It was our 3rd visit. We are going to visit some more and try to get into a Sunday School class to see how we connect with the people. We will keep you posted…The people who are occupying our house are moving out this weekend so we are going to start painting and getting it ready to move. Hopefully within 2 weeks we will be sleeping in our own bed. Not a moment too soon.
Deep Thought…Is it me, or does the popcorn button on the microwave ALWAYS burn your popcorn? I think the microwave companies are getting kick backs from the popcorn companies to burn the popcorn so we will have to buy more. I need to find out whom to talk to about this. It’s gone on long enough.
There's more, but I've got to run. Gonna go buy Drew a size 4 shirt and make him wear it to school so the other kids can laugh at him and call him names like: weird-boy-with-shirt-that-fits, or say things things like, "Hey look at that kid, he looks stupid with that right-size shirt on!
Take care and support your local high school football team.
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