Blessings, Not Bee Stings

I have to admit it. I’m one of those people. I love inspirational quotes. Yep, I do. I try my best not to over-share them on Facebook or pin too many on Pinterest but sometimes a good ole quote is exactly the boost I need!

This morning as I walked up the stairs at the high school, I noticed some very profound words hanging on the wall. They went something like this:

It was a good day for that reminder to cross my path. I was on the verge of spewing some highly disrespectful thoughts. Sometimes it’s very hard to face ignorance with kindness.

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Roses for a Pickle…

Last night my nearly 17 year old son was sitting at my desk, scrolling through Facebook. I was sitting back staring at this kid, like I usually do. I keep asking myself “how did I make that big strong guy?” His birthday is just about a week away, so I’m drunk on nostalgia every time I look over at him.

He caught me staring and I could tell he was about to do it. He was about to make me cry. He does it on purpose. Every time he catches me giving him that “you’ve grown up too fast” look, he says “just think Mom, this is my last year of being a kid… then I’m gonna grow up and move away. I’ll probably travel. Maybe Alaska.

An Early Spring

This is Texas, so we’ve already had spring sprinkled all through our winter. It was 80 degrees yesterday. The week of Christmas my butterfly plant bloomed again. We have definitely not been holed-up with cans of Campbell’s soup to warm us after a snowball fight. Down here in Texas we know Spring will be here soon, so Punxsutawney Phil didn’t give us any surprises, but I’m sure for some of our neighbors to the north, news of an early Spring is the buzz around town.

I kind of like Groundhog’s Day. It’s one of the few holidays yet to be destroyed by commercialism. No one is expecting cards or gifts or candy-filled eggs. And even though the Hallmark channel hasn’t dedicated months to groundhog cinema, there is indeed one funny movie to celebrate with. Too bad it’s not on Netflix- I’d stream it for the kiddos and make them a Groundhog’s Day feast.

Nothing to sell here folks! Just a groundhog going for a drive…

I think I just had a genius idea! Maybe we should celebrate Groundhog’s Day. Blondie can break out the karaoke, we’ll have Dyl Pickles build us a bonfire, we can play Slap Jack on the living room floor… this might be a plan brewing…

Love is Not Genetic

For a while my kids were so into Duck Dynasty that we had it saved on our DVR. I didn’t even realize a new season had started until I noticed three episodes were saved, so I turned it on. It’s one thing my husband and I don’t argue about. He doesn’t love my HGTV obsession and I seriously cannot stand watching someone hunt or fish on TV, so Willy and Jase give us a little sliver of neutral ground.

The ZooCrew in Monroe, Louisiana. My grandpa use to say you can pick your friends, you can pick your nose, but you can’t pick your friend’s nose… but you can pick the nose of a Robertson.

So, I hit play- as the show ended I realized there were actually two episodes saved together, one was Duck Dynasty and the other was a new spin-off, Expanding the Dynasty, which chronicles the new journey of Jep and Jessica Robertson, as they venture down Adoption Road.

Old Dog, New Tricks

So this is Macy. She’s sixteen years old, which according to our calculations makes her roughly 112 in doggy years. If there were an AARP for dogs, she’d be card-carrying member. I’ve always heard you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, but I can assure you this isn’t true.

Recently Macy figured out how to have a warm snuggly night at my expense. She grabs the corner of my down comforter with her mouth and pulls it on the floor in the middle of the night and she even takes a pillow if there is one close enough to the edge of the bed. For a while I thought the kids were tucking her in, but one night I woke up and there she was- dragging the blanket right off my feet.

The Last One to Hug Me

Today my son turned 1o years old. You know what birthdays do, they send you on those journeys of reflection. I don’t think I’ve ever made it through a birthday for one of my children without glancing back at the baby pictures.

For a long time I didn’t want to talk much about the way we adopted our youngest four children. I didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes or hurt anyone’s feelings. I especially never wanted to acknowledge the fact that they are all considered “special needs” kids.

Preheat the Oven

“Mom, Jordan called me Kailynn!” My seven-year-old is screaming across the house as if she’s got a broken bone. “So,” I say in my flattest tone of voice, “that’s your name.” “But I don’t want him to call me Kailynn!” She continues to scream. I reflect upon my most recent meeting with her therapist and I wonder, “should I try medication? Surely all kids are like this!” Just as we start to get over that crisis, Jordan comes in holding his head, crying profusely because Jayden has hit him with a towel. Not even a wet towel, just a plain old dry kitchen rag. So I tell myself “if she needs medication, he needs medication, they all need medication, or maybe it’s me, MAYBE I need medication.” But I can’t dwell on it long because Trenton tackled Jayden and tore his hoodie. We have a new crisis brewing.

Sock ‘Em

Why can’t someone invent disposable socks? I mean they would have to be both cost effective and sweat-sturdy. Oh great, this idea goes completely against my environmental reuse-recycle-repurpose philosophy, but then so do paper plates and I can’t lie, I use them ALMOST EVERY SINGLE DAY.

I’m sorry, when you have a family this big, sometimes shortcuts make all the difference. I do not have time to wash 15 plates every night and I cannot keep up with matching the socks. I’ve tried. Really, I have. I’ve tried pinning them together in the dirty clothes. I’ve tried matching them after every load. I’ve tried keeping all the socks to the side and just doing one load of sock laundry and I’m still stuck without a practical solution. The problem is me honestly.

Blondie Strikes Again

Blondie and her geography, or lack there of, often bring me a great deal of amusement. There was that one time she thought we needed passports to drive to Oklahoma.  Then there was the time that she couldn’t understand that London was part of England.  After that I sent her this joke, thinking for sure she’d get it… but NO!

We Won!!

If you know my husband, this story is much funnier. If you don’t know him, let me just help you out. He’s 42, but he’s not a day over 17 most of the time. He’s probably the reason some guy invented Adderall (even though he’d never take it) and he may have been the creator of the PHOTO BOMB. When he’s mad he tries to yell, but his booming voice isn’t enough to scare anyone and when he’s worried or thinking he rubs the bald spot on his head.