Moms have battle training too.

It's taken over a week, and we are officially in the swing of doing things around here minus the barrel chested man of the house. Sure, we miss him and he wonders into our thoughts through out the day, but emotional moments are dwindling as each day goes by and bed time can go off with out whimpers of "I wish daddy was here." OH, tug tug at the heart strings


I'm glad that we are settling in to the separation because come tomorrow is when the hard part begins.

All except for one night so far, that cowboy soldier of mine has been able to call every night, if only for a brief moment, to tell us he loves us and misses us, and listen to a quick 10 second recap of all the events of a school day of an eight year old. After tonight that will all change. He won't be able to call.

At oh my lord, people should not be waking up this early in the morning, he gets on a bus and leaves OK to head for the middle of the desert of NM. What lies ahead is 4 weeks of this is the Army and this is the way it's done training. Hey at least it's not full boot camp, it's what I call mini-boot camp. Besides intense working out he gets to do the cool stuff, like hand to hand training and my personal favorite, guns and grenades.

Heck Yeah. Wonder if I could just do that part. They can keep the other stuff, I don't like getting yelled at, I might cry. Nobody wants to see a fluffy mother of 3 boys cry. so maybe they'll hold my coconut cookie and let me blow something up. Maybe? Possibly? Yeah, I didn't think so.

Can you imagine what it would look like if they let us moms of small children go and blow stuff up. You think big burly men do damage...HA HA HA! Try taking a handful of sleep deprived, stressed out mother's out somewhere with explosives to relax and blow off some steam.

We have battle training. Our lives are battles of; no you can't climb up the wall like spiderman as the child runs full tilt into the wall, stop swinging from the handheld shower hose, you are not Curious George, stopping one from diving off the back of the couch onto a single pillow, while another is seeing how many crayons can be shoved up it's nose to see if the end result is rainbow snot.

You think these men learn how to run, duck and cover. Try making a batch of cookies which are NOT for the household and get them on the plate, covered, out the door and into the truck without your children, snagging the plate, tackling you along the way and hog tieing you with kite string or socks they accidentally on purpose left in the sandbox the whole time fighting off a wee one that's climbing up your leg like a spider monkey. Small children have strange powers, do not underestimate them. Now this is the regular day of a mom with small babes, that's good training for something, but what?

Oh yeah! Teenagers.

So, honey! Blow something up for me, Your baby has discovered how to open doors.


It's bath and bedtime though. Battle stations Ladies.

"Middle Little" winning a debate with Mom.

I know, he's too cute! Don't let that adorable grin and big blue eyes fool you though. He's good, real good at getting one over on you. I don't mean the naughty bad sort of things. Like all my boys he's a good boy. OK, all my boys except maybe that tall, big armed mildly cocky cowboy of mine. He can be naughty and bad and have an I don't care what other people think attitude, but that's a different story, different post, different day.

The subject of my rambling today is that adorable, pumpkin headed little Imp up there. That's my "middle little", my 4 yr old, my lovey and cuddly and sometime rather emotional cowboybaby.

We've recently hit the stage in his life when tantrums won't get you your way, try using your smarts which I'm positive he's picked up from his older brother. Oh lord mom here we go again.

Not long ago we went to the county fair. YEAH! Rides, rodeos, fried food, animals, 4 H , need I really go on.

Well, during the fair they had a parade. The best kind of parade when you are a little feller, tons and tons of CANDY. Through my years, no need to say how many, I've been to an abundance of parades. I have to admit, this one might not have been the best in terms of floats and people , no bands, and length wasn't all that great. But, it was hitting the jackpot mother load on getting candy.

I would like to take this moment to thank whomever the nifty people where that threw icee pops. "Thank You" from me and all mothers of inky dink children strapped in strollers in 90 degree weather. Those frozen treats where perfect to keep my littlest cowboybaby Imp from having a melt down.

So, you've got the picture...we got lots of candy. All this was to let you know where the chocolate came from that led to me losing a discussion. I know, where the candy came from is irrelevant but oh well. The debate kind of went like this...

Thump, Thump, Thump! sounds like a baby elephant running down the stairs, middle little doesn't walk...he thumps.

"Mommy can I have a piece of gum?"

"No"

"A piece of candy?"

"No"

"Chocolate?"

"I said no to candy" that would be me, unwisely thinking that would end the conversation. HA!

"Chocolate's not candy" At this point I should have know, this was not going to end well for me.

" Yes, chocolate is candy and I said No"

"Nuh uh, chocolates not candy, chocolate's chocolate."

I begin to think on that comment and start to realize, he's going to win. Because, technically, even though I know he doesn't know; Chocolate isn't candy as far as I figure. If only I'd thought that 10 seconds ago when I mistakenly placed the all mighty cocoa in the candy category. Chocolate is a ground up bean thingy like coffee, it's a flavoring and it's not used in just deserts and sweets. Go to Hershey PA and they have a spa that will smother you in a chocolate rub and let it dry and it has fantastic effects on your skin. FYI, that would be where I want to go right now for a mommy get-away. Smother me in a chocolate scrub, sprinkle cocoa in my bath while I drink a chocolate martini. OHHH Yeahhhh! Ooops, back to reality.

Looking down I see he hasn't moved. He's standing his ground that chocolate isn't candy and the twinkle in those greyblue eyes tells me he's not giving up on getting something out of that parade bag. So, I give him a bag of pretzels from some politician and off he runs not really realizing what he's done. I do though.

I've been defeated by a four yr old. Sadly for my ego it won't be the last time I'm sure.