Flannel and Static

Hi, Hello and Howdy.

All is pretty typical in the northern prairie of NoDak. Yep, pretty typical we now have a ground covered with that fluffy white stuff and it's cold. Break out the wool socks and flannel sheets.

Bit of useless information for you... Put flannel sheets on a child's bed and then flannel pj pants on an eight year old long legged lil munchkin and DO NOT expect him to go to sleep right away. You see there is this fascinating little thing called static electricity. Let me try and explain it the way my oldest little cowbaby did. "HEY MOM!!! didya know if move your legs fast and pull the sheet up it makes sparklers." giggle giggle giggle snort giggle.

Once again, I have that look on my face... that what the heck is this little fellow telling me. So of course I play it like I'm really not a dumb mom that doesn't have any idea what he's talking about. "I know, isn't it neat." what a generic comment but it's the best I could come up with considering I didn't have any idea what he's talking about, he's talking and I hear him but it's not combining with any known knowledge in my brain.

Come on I'm the woman who freaked herself out because I went to bed with a glow in the dark band-aid on my big toe and woke up in the middle of the night staring and kinda freaked out at the green glowing floating thing that was at the end of my bed, sad to say it took me reaching and grabbing it to realize it was my own damn toe and that was after I squeeked and about jumped out of my skin because something grabbed my toe. I'll sit here and wait while ya'll finish your laughing fit. I'm really not a blond I swear, and on paper I'm intelligent. I think I just have these brief attacks of brain snooze syndrome.

Back to "sparklers" in bed... Once again that barrel chested Cowboy of mine came to the rescue saving me from being a dippy do. Cowboy walks in the boys room, gets the same "Hey DAD!!" that I had previously received and right away Super Dad knew exactly what the little man was talking about and gave a quick kid lesson on static electricity. After which led to 5 minutes of seeing just how many sparks they could make if Daddy lifted the sheet up really really fast and convulsions of giggles and chuckles. Sigh...my cup runnith over.

There has to be cliff notes somewhere to "HEY MOM!!" moments. That is not entitled "Ask the Man."

Stay warm,

The dippy-do Mom

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.

Start of Week 2 w/out My Cowboy Soldier

Hello, my dears. Yes I'm still around. Obviously, that goodygasm coconut cookie recipe didn't post itself, then yet again, my house does have pixies in it, maybe they posted it.

For real I swear it does. Well, I prefer to think that I have some some sort of little mischievous fairy realm creatures over the other option...I'm haunted. wooooooooooooo. bwaaa haaa haaa. Sorry Halloween is coming and I figure I'll get a head start on it.

You see, every so often toys in the toy room start going off, meaning Elmo garages start repeating "oil change and a tune up, beep beep" or See & Says start quacking or mooing. That one got bad enough I took the batteries out. I've hollered in the nicest, adjust my halo, motherly voice for my kids to stop throwing and slamming their toys into the toy box then kids run in the door asking what was that mom, as they couldn't hear because they where outside playing.

Funniest yet, waking cowboy up to figure out what's making the noise in the bookshelf and listening and watching him try and get his land legs because once he's asleep he's OUT. Then grabbing the flashlight, stepping on some inky dink kids toy and look in the bookshelf for what we assumed would be a mouse, but the noise continued while he was looking and shining the light right where it was coming from and no mouse. He closes the bookshelf door after it stopped thinking finally my wife will leave me alone about "what's that" and I can go back to sleep.

Yes, I'm telepathic I can read my husband's mind thank you.

But he only made it a few steps and the noise begins again. So what does he do? I know you are just dieing to know. He does what any good caveman would do, he pounds his big macho construction man fist on the bookshelf door grumbling something from a language I'm sure he learned in the Navy and swaggers himself back to bed. Whispering in the sweetest tone that it's OK, go back to sleep to the baby, stopping to tuck the blankie back under my youngest cherubs chin.

Once in bed again, the noise starts again and I got the giggles poking him in the side about it. He just kicked his big foot out the bed and stomped the floor this time, telling me to "Go to sleep woman." And, giggle giggle I did. OK, I admit that one probably was a mouse, but it was funny, watching cowboy do anything right after waking before he's prepared to is always funny.

I'm Irishly stubborn standing by my theory that since I'm probably the only Scotch-Irish lass living in this very German, Scandinavian area that I have fairies, pixies, Imp's some sort of Celtic creatures flitting about my house over the fact that somebodies great great uncle died here. Shiver...hello pixies.

You see, I'm fine, so to speak. Upon reading what I just wrote that might mean I'm completely off my rocker. I don't think I am, but if you do... Feel free to send me to the loony bin, but if I do go, I'm taking the one who owns a "tippy table" with me, because she's loco too.

So, there it is. I've survived my first week of my hubby being gone except for not having him to chase odd sounds and fasten my top cartilage earring when I popped it out while doing my hair and try as I could even in contortionist ways I couldn't fasten it. I have survived and not a blubbering bawling mess.

Kids have adjusted awesomely. I am so proud of how well they are doing and life goes on.

5 more weeks to go, well this time, Jauary we start again, and then July or Aug the "Big one" over a year. I'll think about that tomorrow, in my best Scarlett O'Hara voice.

Remember: Hug your kids and spouse.

Huggles.
The loco ND Mama

"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.

Back to School

Summer break is officially over. My big little went back to school today.

It's hard to believe that he's in second grade already. But, time does go by. This is my last year having my middle little home, this time next year he'll be climbing on the bus with his big brother and off to kindergarten. That will also be the beginning of one of the biggest challenges of my life thus far. Because next July or August my darling roughrider cowboy will be deploying for at least a year.

I'm at a point that I know the time line for that dreaded farewell and can't help but wonder am I prepared and what do I need to do to better prepare myself?

Oh, I know the basics. I know the paper work and business aspects of it, but it's been five years since I've been a married single mom, and I know I'll be fine, but what can I do to try and make the situation easier on my children. Kids are stronger and smarter than we give them credit for, and my little herd of cowboys are troopers. So, I figure at least we are lucky enough to have a rather large advance notice and make the best of the next year and enough memories and bonding to hold us through the separation of daddy being an American soldier and off fighting bad guys.

I am such a sap. I sit on the front step while my oldest cowboy baby waits for the bus. He's got his new school cloths on, probably the last time I'll see his jeans so pretty and new, give it a few weeks and the knees will be faded and I'll be continuing on the endless battle of removing grass stains, mud and markers. I look at him standing at the end of the driveway, all excited to be back and looking forward to 4H and wrestling. His backpack on his back and kicking at the dirt driveway with what started out as shiny new sneakers. The bus pulls up, Mark (the farmer bus driver) says a few things smiling at my boy, waves to me and off they go down the road.

Cough! Cough! Choke!

Sorry, I live on a dirt ride and it is crazy dry and windy so I just got plowed with a dust cloud. There he goes, I have to share my boy with the public school system yet again. Sigh! Sneeze!

What's waiting for me inside, once they wake up that is, is a 4 yr old (my middle little) whose world is not a happy place because he lost his play buddy and is going through the I'm too little for everything roughness of life and a spunky 16 month old who really is too little but everyone except him knows that. Deep Breath! First day is always the toughest for all. Lets find something creative and fun to distract middle little from peering out the picture window waiting for brother to come home.

Is it 4 o'clock yet?

X Games

Today starts the annual X games. I know, why is a ND country mama writing about the X games. Well, that's easy I can explain it in 1 word....Cody.





Cody is my almost 8 yr. old. He's the oldest of my cowbabies, he's the only one that was around when my Cowboy man was in the military before. The only one to have previously gone through deployments. He's also my preemie, oh my tiny little orange colored (jaundice) inky dinky baby.


He's a country boy... boots, hat, obsessed with bull riding, but the one thing that will lead him astray from the western being that he is .... BMX and dirt bikes.


I give you the X games... The cowboy boots come off, a pair of sneakers gets thrown on as well as the helmet and pads, and not just any. NOOOOO, last year for his birthday it was a mongoose trick bike as he calls it, black helmet and pads that just so happen to say "X Games" on them. That child pulls on his bike gear and he's gone outside to try again to mirror whatever he last saw being executed on some program being sponsored by Amp, Monster or Rockstar energy drinks.




Oh my, would you look at the face. Fierce determination. He's got his game face on, or I'm going to run mom over face. I would much prefer it wasn't the latter one.


I'll go along with experimenting of who he wants to be. His hair is still short, his pants aren't down below his crack and he's still well mannered and respectful. So, I'll sit here and cheer him on as he tries again to pop a wheelie...but in the back of mind I keep thinking, bull riding and X Games. Yea, I know, just what a mother's first choice of personalities for her children is ... an action junkie.


Is it better for me to support him or to squash his dreams and ambitions just because of my fear of him getting hurt?


I will support him. To the point of one of the bull riders around here offered to teach my boy and I've mentioned to his daddy about the lumber in the pole barn and possibility of at least a ramp.


Would I still be a cool mom if I wrapped him in bubble wrap first? Hey, it was worth a try!

Constantly on my toes and I'm not talking ballet.

You would think being on my third baby I would have been better prepared and expecting this. Ha, Ha. Baby RJ is officially in that, I'm independent and mobile, I will do anything I want and if you try and stop me I will scream till the my face turns red and do it anyway. {deep breath}...here we go again.



Oh I know he's cute peeking over the gate at me. He's wanting so bad to be in the kitchen and help mommy make dinner, and when my back is turned run into the bathroom to splash and throw whatever he can get his hands on into the potty. Or, into the computer room pushing buttons and making the computer do things I didn't even know it could do.

Mommy please let me out of here, I can just read it in those big beautiful green eyes. What makes it even harder is, just like his 2 older brothers, Odie and Bubba as he calls them, he knows just how to melt my heart, big sloppy open mouthed muahhhh baby kisses. Oh I can't forget the one time he talks quietly and that's "Momma".

So I break, I usually let him out of the baby gated living room and put him in his high chair or close the bathroom door and gate off the computer room. Dilemma solved, every one's happy.

But, for every baby/toddler dilemma solved a new one will arise.... I give you ... the stairs!

That little stinker, just climbed his little butt right up them stairs to his Nirvana heaven...the bigger boys toy room.

Oh, I laughed and I was proud that he has the ability to not only climb up the stairs but back down as well.

I was a bit sad too though. Partially because he does so well up and down the stairs and I'm known for tripping up the stairs or the infamous think there is one more step there that really isn't, so I look like a total dork lifting my leg like Frankenstein walking to take a step that isn't even there, now that's if at the top. At the bottom I just trip and about smash my pretty little pug nose into the front door.

My real moment of self awwww is... a milestone like this makes me realize even more that my last baby is growing up way too fast.

I'm pouting now, my babies are all growing up too fast. And I miss their little tiny chubby baby feet and no teeth grins and looking up at me with that look of total adoration...oh wait, I still get that whenever I fix and kiss a boo boo.

Motherhood is the greatest gift we can be given, but man ole man is it a roller coaster of emotions.

* My quote of the day or words of advise or whatever you'd like to call it...

Make sure you've kissed your baby's. It only takes a second and the effects last a lifetime.

Color...My LIfe Needs Color.

These are an example of just a few of the flowers around my place and I might add I am quite proud of the green thumb I didn't even know I had. Who knew, that I could grow such beautiful foliage, not a victory garden by no means but give me time, my cowboy darling has created a monster building me all the flower beds I want and letting me fill them with all kinds of budding beauties.

If you've never driven through North Dakota let me explain my desire for lots of different bright flowery things. Dixie Chicks probably explains it well when the say "wide open spaces". That's it... you drive and it's field after field after field of crops. Oh sure there are occasional pastures full of cows and spring is the best because then it's pastures full of baby moo moo cows. But it's wide open. All green in the spring and summer and all brown in the fall and of course all white in the winter and oh my lord didn't know it would get that cold.

After having done 2 winters here I realized that once the first big snow comes, that's it. It stays, you will not see the ground again till spring and spring can come pretty damn late out here. My husband has been so sweet enough as to go out in negative -30 degrees to shovel a big square out in front of my picture window so I can see the ground, I was really starting to wonder if the dirt and poor dormant grass was even still under there. Hey you would wonder too if you went months with out seeing something, if you didn't see your belly button for months on end wouldn't you just reach down there and pillsbury dough boy poke your own button just to make sure it was still there? OH come on, you know you would.

I know now you can understand my need for color. Because, at any given time the canvas of the prairie is one dominant color and that's just not enough for me, I'm greedy, I want a crayon box worth of colors. I want to paint my property with the colors of my chidren's pudgy little hands after getting ahold of a box of markers.

Typical Saturday

I love summer Saturdays. Not that Saturdays during school are that much different it's just nice during the summer.

Wake up run around in my pj's till probably around noon. Kids either eat cereal or we have a later than 7am breakfast along the line of what you'd order at IHOP except better, why better you ask...because I made it that's why.

After a nice big later than breakfast but earlier than brunch meal, it's nice to just veg out and watch some cartoons with the kids. Oh don't roll your eyes, you too have an inner child that just loves to sit and watch cartoons while drinking a juice box.

It's usually after noon by the time we all get dressed and decide what the plan for the day is, meaning do we have to go anywhere and do anything...which if that's the case we would have left earlier because it's a 65 mile one way drive to the nearest anything except we do have a little town that the streets roll up at night and they do have a grocery store with the same hours as the bank and the prices would make you choke, we also have a little gas station, a hardware store and lumberyard, not open on the weekends I might add.

You see really "anything" is at the end of a 65 mile drive. OHHHHH, but at the end of that drive is ... play the pretty angel music... Stores, restaurants, coffee stops, damn now I want a carmel mocha latte. I can not forget the reason it's all worth while going to the city...Fleet Farm. I do believe if they sold more food, we can't live on peanuts, raisins and jerky only, BUT, anything I need in life is under that roof. Most women get excited over walking into the mall and smelling the smells of high end perfumes, designer purses, and deciding whether they like the wedge,slingback or peep toe. HA HA I know I just confused some people and probably shocked even more.

Let me fill you in on a little something. Part of me used to be one of those women. I've always been a country girl, but I let that slip away for awhile and let the "glamour girl" side of me lead the way for a while. Trust me once I got married to my rough rider cowboy, the "glamour girl" couldn't find the oh shit handle fast enough to get the hell out of there. So, now you know that there is a different side of me. All of us have different layers that's what make us who we are.

So, now I'm that's I've completely took a side road off the subject of Saturdays I'll get back to that.


Since, I'm sitting here writing this at 11:30 am it's pretty obvious we aren't going to town today. I don't think we'll be going anywhere at all if my dh (dear, darling, damn, husband..pick the "d" that fits) can't get the truck fixed. Ah yes the truck is broke, to be exact the axle. UHHGG. Welcome to my world...just a typical day at my prairie farm.

My wise words of the day "Use butter not margarine"...margarine is one element away from being plastic, was originally created as a turkey fattner but even they wouldn't eat it. and if you leave a tub opened for months IT WON'T MOLD, why you ask because it's fake not natural, just like... oh nevermind.