I Smell Like a Cow......

I don't know about your house, but at my house there are sea monkeys that get songs stuck in their sweet little heads. When that happens, of course they are kind enough to sing it over and over and over, well you get the point.

Courtesy of the Wild Child, the song of the day is Hungry Like the Wolf, by Duran Duran. The lyrics however, will be sung like this. "I smell cow, I'm lost and found and coming after shoes. I smell like a cow, I'm lost and I'm found and I'm hungry like the Wolf".

No need to thank the Wild Child for these new lyrics that will no doubt be stuck the same way in your head. I am sure given a few more days, she will find something to replace it.

HELLLOOO, where were you made and other randomness?

The other morning while I was straightening the Wild Child's hair, I notice that she continually is admiring herself in the mirror. I reflect back to when she was a baby and people would stop me and tell me she was the most beautiful baby they had ever seen. In fact her dad, the Rocket Scientist, has mentioned from time to time that her beautiful china doll face never leads one to believe how calculating and feral she really is. Suddenly the Wild Child makes eye contact with me in the mirror and says, "Mom, it looks like I am made in China.."When we load in the mini-van to take the kids anywhere, I holler, "Seat belt check." If the Sea Monkeys have their seat belts on, they holler back, "CHECK." This has been working really well, since then I don't have to question them one-by-one to see who has their seat belts on and who we are waiting for. Yesterday morning, I forget to yell "Seat belt check." The Little Jamaican was not having a change in the routine. She starts yelling, "Check!", from the back of the mini-van and continues to yell it at me until I acknowledge that she has her seat belt on AND say, "Seat belt check." This is when I realize that the 1st One is growing up. "Little Jamaican, the seat belt check is getting really old.", I hear her say. She speaks of it as if it is a catch phrase uttered way past it's time. Next thing you know, I will be embarrassing her with out trying. Oh.....wait, I already do that. She was mortified when I forgot to put on a certain piece of support wear to drive her to school last week. She told me to zip up my coat so no would notice. She kept reminding me that I didn't need to get out of the car. Like I wanted to....It was 24 F.

The Little Jamaican wanted to go out and jump on the trampoline. I am fine with that, I just wanted her to put some clothes on since she was wearing her a "cheerleader" skirt and shirt. When I reminded her she needed on something more than she was wearing, she responded with, "HEEELLLLLOOOOO, Why do you think I am wearing this?" Ya, I'm not sure this is the tone I want to hear from my 5 year old. "Heeellllooooo, it's below freezing out there. Put on your snow pants and a coat." Oh, wait, that isn't actually teaching her to speak respectfully. "Hey, I was thinking that maybe you would put on your snow pants and a coat."
In the past few months, we discovered that My Son has some permanent hearing loss. It is suspect that it is congenital. Strangely, this bit of information brought a thrill of excitement around here. Truly a blessing to find something that, when corrected, would make a huge difference for him. The day he got his hearing aids, his voice level was half as loud. You could see that he was hearing some things for the first time. There was much joy and celebration in our home. The only down side to all of that is.......he is a little boy.......which in this case, translates to one of them is already missing. At $1250.00 a piece used, they are not easy or economical to replace. We have torn the house apart looking for it, scoured the school, harrassed the local library and friends, and actually cleaned out the dumpster on wheels (a.k.a. mini-van). Amazing how in a short period of time there are so many variables of where that missing hearing aid could be. Anyway, if you all wouldn't mind, say a little prayer for the wayward hearing aide to show up. Thank you.

Quotable's from the Wild Child.

There are days I hear things from my children that I could never make up on my own. The Wild Child says something almost daily that cause me to quietly chuckle to myself. The world through her eyes is a much more interesting place, than the world through mine.

There was a day this past week that the quotable's were flying faster than I could write them down. (If I didn't write them down, they would be gone from memory in 24 hours.)

We have once again been invaded by earwigs. I would like to go on record that I HATE those things. EWWWW! I have been killing 100's a night. We have been using all kinds of methods to rid ourselves of these annoying creatures. I am happy to report as of last night I only killed 4 in the house. I still found one in the bed, but he was dead, so I can live with the progress made. The Sea Monkeys are not as afraid this year of the earwigs. In fact, they will kill earwigs themselves. Anyway, I digress, to get these little pests under control, a trip to my local IFA was in order. That store has a wide variety of solutions and potions to get rid of any pest that ails you. I tell the Sea Monkeys before entering the store that they must keep their hands to themselves because there would poisons and such. If you have spent anytime with children, you know they had to touch everything. Upon checking out, I ask the clerk if they had public restrooms so my children might wash their hands. She pointed me in the direction and we headed down the long hall way. I am thinking.....If we are here, we should all make a pit stop. I can only talk My Son and the Little Jamaican into such a thought. As I am headed out of a stall, I can hear the 1st One and the Wild Child discussing the vending machine in the women's bathroom. "What is it?" I hear the 1st One ponder. "Well, I know that one is a cigarette.", I hear the Wild Child explain, "But I don't know what that one is." Then I hear the 1st One ask, "Mom, what's a taaaaam.....what's a taaammmmmpooooon?" During our trip to this wonderland of woman's bathroom vending machines, a sales associate has come to use the facilities. She can no longer control her snickers and is full on cracking up behind her stall door.

Later, I have to go to Costco to pick up some prints of pictures my sweet SIL took for me. I tell my kids that we are going to pick up something kind of fun. I hear grumbling and displeasure from the back seats. Then above the murmuring I hear the Wild Child rant, "I know you are NOT going to buy anything fun! NOTHING! You're not buying a water slide or a swimming pool OR A UNICYCLE ARE YOU?" What??? A unicycle? When did Costco start selling those? Apparently we have different ideas of fun.

Finally it is time for the Rocket Scientist to come home from work. I love that time of day. I love to see his beautiful blue eyes and the way he makes sure to come kiss me when he walks in the door. I must say, this guy knows how to make his wife feel special. This day is no different. There were no comments from the peanut gallery. Huh? I should have known better. As I continued to work on the kitchen, the Rocket Scientist thought he would steal another kiss. This time the Sea Monkeys notice. "EEEEEWWWW," collectively. That is every parents right to scar their children with the knowledge that their parents kiss. But then.....the Wild Child pipes up with, "I know what kind of kiss that is! It's a China kiss!" Seriously, it was more than a peck, but it had no definitive nationality. Really!

So to sum it up here. They sell cigarettes in the women's bathrooms called taaaampoooons. Unicycles are the epitome of fun and China kissing has been observed. I wonder what tomorrow will bring?

Is Mexico Know For It's Salt or It's Restrooms?

Last week or was that a week and a half ago......anyway, driving to Carson City, NV, for my grandfather's funeral, we made many pit stops. At one point a family member we were traveling with threatened to put her 30 year old husband in Depends. Truthfully, it was those under the age of 8 that we stopped for the most. As we are rolling into the rest area at the Salt Flats, the little Jamaican looks around and asks with all the excitement of Christmas morning, "Are we in Mexico?" I have never been to Mexico, but this is not what I expect it to look like, but to the Little Jamaican, it might as well have been. This part of Interstate 80 is about the most boring stretch of road ever. That is unless you get out, walk around in the salt, taste it if you are one of my Sea Monkeys, which the Wild Child emphatically exclaimed, "It's just like real salt!", or desperately need a restroom and have just found one.

I'm Still Here and Other Blah Blah......

I have had blog material flying at me. I have had things I have desperately needed, wanted to record so that I would have it to look back at and chuckle. Yet.....you have all heard nothing from me. Even if I don't get out here what I want to share, I will for go sleep to hear what you, my trusted bloggy friends have to say. So why the absence?

Here is my excuse:

To whom it may concern: Please excuse Karen for neglecting her blog and yours for the past couple of weeks. Her grandfather recently passed away and she has felt she needed to write a post about him and his life before she did any more blogging. This has turned out to be more difficult than she would have expected. She had no idea that she would miss him so much or have such difficulty expressing her thoughts and feelings and organizing the facts. Sincerely, Karen's Self-defense Department.

I have come to realize a few things about me. Anything I put in this blog is here because I don't want to forget. I also care that you read it or want to read it. I shouldn't care, but I think if it isn't something you want to read.....how will I ever be able to get my posterity to be interested in what my life was. These thoughts also bring me to want to make sure all my facts are straight. (Especially in regards to my grandpa.) I suppose I think of this blog as my journal and one day plan to publish it at Blurb or something like that so that one day my when I leave this earth, my grandchildren and great-grandchildren will know who I was. They will know what I cared about. They will know that my life was not perfect, but that in time most pain fades and love remains.

So if you made it through all that.....I am working on a post about my sweet grandpa that will make you smile. Until I get it finished, this is what I heard from the Wild Child and the 1st One today:

1st One: Mom, Wild Child has lotion all over her bed rails.
Me: (Raise eyebrow.)
Wild Child: Dad said I could. It's so that bad guy won't be able to steal me.
Me: (Shaking my head)
1st One: (Starts helping the Wild Child put more lotion on the side rails of the loft bed.)
Me: (Thinking, why didn't I think of that.)

Questions and Estrogen Don't Mix

Last week, after picking up the 1st One and the Wild Child from school, a heated debate erupted from the back seat. This is not new news. It happens almost daily. The new part was the topic of disagreement.

The Wild Child asked if ducks have tongues. The 1st One insists that they do because she has seen a duck's tongue before. The Wild Child of course is not convinced that her sister is right. Then the "you're stupids" and the "I hate yous" are flying before I can even begin to say, "I don't know if ducks have tongues, but we can look it up as soon as we get home." Fortunately they mellowed until the Wild Child and her inquisitive brain decided to try one more time to start World War 3. In her sweet little voice she asks, "Mom......Are pandas bears?" Once again before I can respond the 1st One is answering with, "Panda-BEAR, Polar-BEAR, they are BEARS!" You know that infuriated the Wild Child and the insults were flying again. I just don't get enough of that, so before my head exploded, I explained we would look that up to when we got home and there was to be no more talking. Finally, two seconds peace.

So if you are wondering......All birds have tongues, even ducks. As for the panda, well, scientists don't seem to be able to agree either. Some say they are more like raccoons and others say they are more like bears. Fortunately, that was acceptable to my girls.

No Loving Here

I can't remember if I have ever mentioned that as a family we struggle with traditions of our own. The Rocket Scientist had a very different version of the same holidays than I did growing up. Though, we don't argue about it, we haven't really set many traditions of our own.

One tradition we have managed to set is our Sunday night. We gather as a family and watch Extreme Makeover, Home Edition. Either the Rocket Scientist will make popcorn or I will make something else to snack on and we watch this show. I love this time. The kids will usually cuddle with us on the couch and we get to watch something of value. It is honestly about the only TV I get to see in a week.

Well Sunday night, the Wild Child announces in a very disgruntled voice, "I hate this show. It is just about loving and taking care of people and houses!" The RS and I did a double take and stifled our giggles. I think it actually comes down to she doesn't like to see me cry, but whatever. She got over it and was sitting next to me by the time they were taking down the old house.

After every episode, we talk about what we can do as a family to make this world a better place. The kids have some interesting ideas, but we will save that for another post.

Shopping for a Chandelier with the Wild Child

You really have no idea how much fun it is to shop for a new light fixture with the Wild Child. We went to Lowes to replace the chandelier in out kitchen. The old one was plenty nice, just too small for the room.

When we get there, I go over the the oiled bronze, wrought iron and/or brown fixtures since that is what everything else in the house is. The Wild Child tells me she does not like these lights because they look old and broken to her. So I ask her what she does like. She shows me this and others like it:

Though I think this light is gorgeous, it is just not going to work in my kitchen eating space.

There was much debate over three different lights that I liked. I let the Wild Child give her input as to which one she liked and why. This the is the one we chose:

The Wild Child liked it because of the "pineapple." When we get home later that night, I tell the Rocket Scientist that I bought the new light and needed him to install it. Then the Wild Child proceeds to tell her dad, "We bought the one with pineapple on it that looks like a disco ball." Anyone feel like dancing?

Things prayed for...

You see the socks the Wild Child is wearing? She got those for her birthday. Did I mention she LOVES Troy? Yes, she has told me this herself and then asked me not to tell her dad. I didn't have to, her sister told her dad right in front of her.

So she decides to wear the new socks to bed. Doesn't she look cute in her new PJ's and "Troy" socks?

I am listening to the 1st One say her prayers when I hear her say, "And please bless that (insert Wild Child's name here) won't wake up in the middle of the night and start kissing her socks." Oh how I love little girl crushes. They are just so cute. Now, if I can just keep them having crushes on fictitious characters, I will be in business.

What is she really saying?

This morning as we are driving down the road, the Wild Child says to me, "Mom, When you and Dad die, (the there is a long pause) I want the house and..................... Squig (the cat) and .............Penny (the dog) and........................ Bow-Legged-Lou (deceased cat) and Sabrina (deceased dog.)

What's a mom to say about all of that? I don't even know where to start. Um, the house, ya, well I think that is uh, you know I need to put together a will or a trust or something.

She made it to 6

I remember so well everything leading up to the Wild Child's birth. I remember the move right before she was born from Utah to Kansas. I remember the morning she was born. The way her soft little skin felt against my cheek. I remember the brave face her birth mom put on, but how I could feel her heart break.

From the first moment I held the baby Wild Child, I knew I would be more than her mom. I knew that as she grew we would also be good friends. Now that she has just turned six, I am wondering how she survived that long. For example: She was behind this incident and this one and this one. Then there is her love of "free gum." You know, it's free because somebody else has already discarded it and put it under the table or dropped it on the side walk. Yummy-huh? Well, that is nothing when you consider that she has sampled toilet water at Shopko. Honestly, this kid could survive a biological attack. Her immune system is well practiced.

So here are some pictures of her over the past six years that make my heart ache to have a few of those moments back and a few that make me realize there is still much fun to be had ahead.

Happy Birthday, Wild Child! I love you more than you will know until you have children of your own. Thank you for making my life fun and interesting. Most of all thank you for letting me be your mom!

Collections.......

I actually wrote this last night. I am trying to pace myself. :)

Each day comes with it's own challenges and it's own humor. A lot of the times, the humor comes out of the challenges. In fact, I have noticed I have a much better sense of humor when I am being challenged, so to say. Now I tell you this knowing that this story may be TMI for some of you. For that I am sorry. If you are concerned, you should quit reading now.

Today the Rocket Scientist and the Little Jamaican went to see the doctor. Now the Rocket Scientist has an acute case of gout making him very miserable and the Little Jamaican has a very "messy" sinus infection. I am not Wonder Woman, but it would be helpful. Since I am just a regular chick, I drop the RS and the Little Jamaican off at the doctor so I can run the Wild Child to school and pick up some new shoes for the Little Jamaican. (See Something in the Air) I watch my sweet RS hobble up the walk on crutches helping the Little Jamaican get in the door. I feel a twinge of guilt that I can not be several places at once.

I then feed the Wild Child lunch, drop her off at school, take My Son to the store to buy some replacement clothes and shoes. Fortunately, the doctor's office is not horrendously busy and I get a call from the RS's mobile phone. It's the Little Jamaican.

She tells me in her little stuffy nose voice, "Momb day took daddy's butt out."

I start snickering, "What was that Sweetie? I'm not sure what you are saying."

"Mom, day took daddy's blutt oup," she repeats.

After talking to the RS I found out he had blood drawn for labs and they were almost ready to be picked up. As I get to the doctor's, the Rocket Scientist asks if I will come in and help him bring a few things out. He had prescriptions, the Little Jamaican and a large "jug." That is a bit to handle when not feeling well and more to handle when you are "crunches" as the Sea Monkeys call them. Upon walking into the office the Little Jamaican runs toward me with the "jug." "Momb dis is for collwections."

"Really Sweetie, collections. Hmmmm. What do you suppose Daddy is suppose to collect in there?"

"I fink fings wike sea shells and bwirds," was her innocent reply.

Poor Rocket Scientist.....sounds like there is a days worth of labs he still has to supply.

Something in the air....

Did you all read this post? You know, I was reading what Jen had to say today about her son and a pair of scissors he was returning to her, when I realized it was time to get some clothes for two of my kids in the shower. As I walked into one of the bedrooms, the Wild Child jumps out of the closet. looking very guilty, with a pair of scissors that had been on my dresser less than an hour before. When I had first walked into the room I noticed a ribbon had been cut into confetti. I'm thinking, great another mess to clean-up. That was until I looked in the closet. The little...darling apparently was feeling...creative? Not really sure what triggered this need to be destructive, but she cut up several of My Son's clothes and the Little Jamaican's shoes. My Son's shirts were randomly freed of a left sleeve or a collar or other random nicks and cuts. The Little Jamaican's shoes were disemboweled. Really, that is the only way I can think to describe it. Needless to say, there have been some pretty stiff consequences. Oh, I almost forgot, she also cut her own hair. It's lovely. (not!)

So I say to parents everywhere: There is something in the air. Hide your scissors or forever grieve the losses.

Boneless White Meat......

Oh the things I hear as a mother...........Do you have a meat preference? There might be a meat preference in my house. Let me explain.


The other day I hear from the back seat, "What is skin made of?" Well before the Rocket Scientist or I have a chance to respond we hear the Wild Child tell her sister, "Boneless white meat." Trying to stifle my laughter I suddenly find myself wondering if this is true no matter the shade of your skin. So, when I could control myself, I had to ask. I was assured by the Wild Child that all skin is "boneless white meat." So there you have it. If you were ever wondering. While I am on the topic of "boneless white meat" you should pop over and say "hi" to my friend Krista before she has surgery.

On a new subject, I am truly struggling to keep up on my blog right now. Life keeps throwing twist and turns my direction. Please, let me be clear. I love the twists and turns. It is what makes life fun. However, said ride, is sucking up an awful lot of time and energy.

We have been offered an opportunity to make a move with my husbands employment. I love living in new places. I love learning about the local culture, meeting new people, getting to know the geography. I really love looking at the architecture and how different it is in different parts of our nation. I detest the moving part. I don't like looking for a new school for my kids. I hate the sleep deprivation that is always involved in a move. I hate leaving my friends behind. I am a decent long distance friend, but it's not the same as being able to call up a friend and say, "Hey, let's go get chocolate faced tonight." or the "We have a sitter, let's do dinner tonight." There is so much comfort in established relationships. For me, it provides a sense of belonging, to have a few friends close by to laugh and cry with. Friends to escape with, friends who make you feel like you can take on the world. I am also not fond of the unpacking part. If you need proof, come look at my basement. We have been here almost two years and there are still boxes of which I know the content of, that I have not unpacked. I just haven't felt like it. (This can be problematic, since there are things I need in those boxes from time to time, so I will pull an item or two out and leave the rest of box disheveled. This makes my basement look a bit like a bomb went off.) We have yet to make a decision, but I imagine we will have to make it soon.

If this were not enough to think about, I have a grandmother, my father's mother, and grandfather, my mother's father that seem to be under the impression that their bodies are wearing out. I have wonderful grandparents. The thought of it being their "time" is too much for me right now. (Trust me, I get it, I don't really have a say in the matter.) They are both in their 90's so I get that it is unreasonable for me to think they will be around for another 25 years. Still, I wish that the quality of their lives where better and that they could be around for another 25 years. And as I sit here and type this, I feel very selfish for letting get to me like this. You know that my sweet Rocket Scientist had lost both of his parents by the time he was thirty.

Did I mention that I am married to the best guy ever? I may have eluded to that a time or two. For my birthday this month, he is sending my sister and I out of town for 5 whole days. That is 5 whole days of no kids, no laundry, no dishes and hopefully good sleep. So I am frantically working on getting myself ready for a trip to Alabama on Thursday. Will you all say a prayer that my grandparents hang in there till I get back? Thank you.

So back to my first topic.......boneless white meat. Anybody have a simple, accurate answer that I can give my kids on what skin is made of? Seriously......where does the Wild Child come up with these things?

Watching my mother fall victim to my children

My sweet mother took my children yesterday and kept them over night so that I could get ready for Thanksgiving. Since we live back close to family, we usually do the get together here since we are best equipped for gatherings. Besides that, I LOVE to cook! Really!!! And the entertaining part is nice too. It makes me feel at home to have people I love in my home enjoying themselves.

Early this afternoon, my mom calls to check on the time of dinner. She was running behind. Yeah.....she had my kids, so that is to be expected. But the story behind why she was running late must be told. Now, in my experience, grandmas are suckers for grandchildren. Why that is exactly I don't have a firm grasp on yet, but I am sure there will be a day that I do. Well, my sweet mom was bringing a few homemade pies and mashed potatoes for Thanksgiving. She seemed to have a handle on that. That is until the my children, aka the grandchildren in question, asked if she would make them brownies. Now if they asked me, the answer would have been an easy "NO!" There would be plenty of good things for them to eat when they got home. Being the grandma put her at a disadvantage; You know being a sucker for her grandchildren and all. She started to tell them that she really didn't have time when the Wild Child in all her charm uses her cutest smile and voice and says, "Please, they're like a river of chocolate." Yep, she made them brownies.

Hey Mom, if you get a chance to read this before you collapse into your bed tonight......Thank you!! I could have never pulled it off without you.

The unknown use for a lime green bracelet

There is no end to what my children will do to avoid going to bed!

Not enough branches in my family tree

You may have noticed that I don't mention my mother-in-law much. I need to say up front, she is an amazing woman. I love and adore her, but most of all I miss her. My sweet Rocket Scientist lost his mother to cancer about 6 months after we got married. Ruth was her name. She fought cancer like a master ninja. In the end, though, I think it was just her time to go. God must have needed her more there than here. So, even though there are days it breaks my heart that she isn't here to meet 8 of her 11 grandchildren I know that there must be some Divine purpose in why she is there instead of here. Who knows, maybe she was one of the angels desperately working behind the scenes to help us get our children. (Trust me there were angels employed. Adoption is a miracle all of it's own.)

Ruth was from a holler in West Virginia. I love to hear the stories she told of her growing up there. She was kind enough to record a lot of her memories in both the written and audio formats. It really is a treasure to have. One of the things she talked about was that most of the people that lived in the holler were related. Everyone was related to either Hackney's or Hurley's or both. Before you were allowed to have a crush on someone, you had to figure out how far removed that family member was. (I know many of you are either laughing or cringing.)

Well tonight when we were out and about with our Sea Monkeys, the Wild Child was talking about how Mom and Dad lived together before we had kids. Then she proceeds to say that we even lived together when we were kids. The Rocket Scientists zooms in on this and says, "Your mother and I did not live together before we were married." The Wild Child's response to that, "Yes, you did! Mom was your sister!" The Rocket Scientist is now trying to control his need to laugh. "Baby, Wild Child, your mother is not and was never my sister!"

"Dad, she was too. Mom is your sister!"

"Nope, Wild Child, Grandma Ruth grew up in West Virginia, not me."

You would think after a conversation like this that the RS might have made some sort of head way, but no. She went to bed tonight, honestly believing that the RS and I are brother and sister.

On the Contrary!

Have I ever mentioned that I love the charter school my 1st One and Wild Child attend. They are learning a ton. The best part of that is that they are excited about what they are learning. I don't know about you, but when I was is school they didn't teach us about "greeting" new people and proper etiquette for such situations in the 1st and 2nd grade. My 1st One came home and told me all about it. She even said, "You should say, 'Hello, my name is ........, it's a pleasure to meet you.' Mom, did you know that is a greeting?"

The kids have been doing a bunch of field work lately, aka: field trips, that have all been centered on or around trees and the products they provide us. They talk about how they grow, why leaves change color, what grows on trees, how we get paper form them and what might live in and around them, to name just a few. A few weeks ago the the 1st One was able to tour and Violin Making school. Can you believe how cool? I know you are all thinking......."OK....we get it. You like the school.......is there a point here?" No point......just a Wild Child story.

So this past week when the 1st One was at school and before it was time to take the Wild Child to afternoon Kindergarten, the Wild Child had the Little Jamaican and My Son sitting on the couch. She was literally making them stay there, because she had made a "Contrary" and they were doing field work, learning about some of the animals in her "Contrary." She had taken all the throw pillows off the couch and had made "cages" for some of her "animals" (aka: stuffed animals) and was pulling them out one at a time and talking about them to her brother and sister like she was a tour guide. Of course, this is all very amusing to me, especially since it took me forever to figure out what a "Contrary" was.

This is what I over heard as she was giving the tour of her conservatory. "This here is a weasel-rat. They live here in the forest. Can anyone tell me what a weasel-rat eats?" as she is holding up her stuffed animal that is actually a weasel she's named Womp. "Do they eat leaves? No. Do they eat bugs? No. Do they little kids? No. How about noses?" She lets out a little snort/laugh. "They eat HAIR! THEY EVEN EAT THEIR OWN HAIR!" Wow.........now that is a very self sufficient weasel-rat.

Feel like a teenager?

Today, I had to make a trip to Office Max to have some stuff laminated for My Son's education. The Wild Child was the first one out of the van. The others were taking forever to get out. I can hear her talking to me as she is leaning against the store front. I'm still trying to get the others out, so I am not sure what she is saying. Finally everybody is out and I can finally hear what she is saying to me. She is leaning against the store front, just like this: She says to me, "Mom, I feel like a teenager when I stand like this." The girl scares me.

Trend setter.......

Do you remember this? As you can see, the Wild Child's leg has healed quite nicely. The real trouble here is is that in order for her to let me take care of her, she made me promise to not take the bandage off without her permission. I am a mom of my word, so I would only remove the part of the bandage that she would let me. This means, if the bandage was still attached to hair, I was not allowed to remove it. So I cut as much off as she would let me and prayed that the rest would fall off, soon. I even instigated many long showers with lots of lotion after and that darn thing kept holding on.

Fortunately, her dad did not make the same deal with her as I did. The Rocket Scientist decided ten days of this was all he could take of looking at the lovely remaining bandage. So Thursday night, he ripped that thing off. She wailed and cried like a hungry newborn. Truth be told, not much of it was still even stuck to her leg. Though there was one little part that took some of her leg hair, which apparently warranted 15 minutes of said crying to punish the man with the audacity to remove her trendy accessory.