Saturday Morning

Can a girl not even take a little weekend nap on the couch without some boy sneaking into the kitchen and making himself a little snack mix out of Life cereal and Sun chips?

Blended Family

He's already trying to work it.

Tonight, T was pointing at a spot on the treadmill that has been colored on with magic marker. I know exactly who did this and I know exactly when it happened.

T looked up at me and said, "A naughty child did that."

"Yup." I said. "Which naughty child did that?"

"Um, I just don't know but probably Frankie."




My advice to you, T. If you're lookin' to place some blame--you might want to pick the sibling that is sitting right next to you NOT the one that's way older and lives in a different city.

I'm just saying.

Communication Breakdown

So, this sort of thing never happens if you live alone:

Saturday, I roasted a chicken.
Sunday, I took the big, hulking carcass and dropped it in the giant soup pot and boiled it all day. I told F to bring home some carrots and onions so that I could make chicken noodle soup for Monday night.
He brought the carrots and onions home about 9 pm on Sunday night. He saw me go to bed at about 915 pm. He saw me leave for work on Monday morning.

As I was leaving for work on Monday morning, I says to him, "Make sure you guys eat up lots of leftovers today. There is some canned chicken soup leftover in the fridge that M could eat for lunch as well as french toast sticks, etc. etc."

I get home and I see that some people are already eating.
I see M is eating the canned chicken soup with crackers.
I see the giant soup pot is on the stove. I think to myself, "Great, he's already got it out so I can pull the meat off the carcass."
I see him go over with a ladle.
I see him dip into the giant soup pot and pour some liquid into a bowl.
I demand an explanation from him.


Apparently, he's been eating that "soup" throughout the day.
Apparently, he thinks it is pretty tasty.
When asked about the huge carcass floating in the middle of the giant soup pot, he explains that he just "went ahead and crunched it up." (At this time, he makes chopping gestures with both hands.)
Apparently, he thought this was some of my "country cooking."

I mean, I grew up in Minnesota... Not the Ozarks. I've never served anything to him that had huge pieces of bone floating throughout it. I've never uttered words like, "Ah there. Yap. Just go ahead and crunch those bones up nice and small and we'll just chew em right up. It's good for ya."

What the heck? What the heck? When did he think the carrots and onions were coming in to play? It all too bizarre for further rumination.
That's all I have to say about that.

Legally and Happily Separated:

Me and the Army, that is.

My last drill was in November and we took these pics that same Sunday.
However, because of how the Army works, we did not get official papers until late January.

"Parents," said Harry, "shouldn't leave their kids unless they have to."

And now I won't have to.

Here's our clan.

See what happens when I'm not home for the weekend? One naked child and one child in mismatched pink clothing?

My Mommy packed my bag when I shipped off for basic training. They gave us a list and I got what was on that list and nothing more. I was the only one in my barracks that didn't have to throw a bunch of stuff away. My Mommy can follow directions.

I loved being in the Army and I loved having gone through basic training. My only suggestion to anyone about to enter the military is this:

See how short and cute and stylish my hair is in the photo below?
DO NOT CUT YOUR HAIR SHORT AND CUTE FOR ANY MILITARY TRAINING OR DEPLOYMENT!
There will not be showers, or haircuts, or hair products. Long and pulled back is the way to go.
Just prior to basic training, I had cut my hair to a short style, similar to what I have below. 11 weeks without a haircut is a great inconvenience.
I did the same thing when I was mobilized in 2003--NOT SMART.
Just wear it long and pull it back.

Me and the SO HAPPY hubs. He's been getting up with the kids every drill Saturday, after working until the wee hours of the morning, and then doing it again Sunday.
Plus, he doesn't like that I can do more push ups than him--but that will still not change. I am a push up machine.

I love group photos. F took this one.

And one last one of me, in my uniform.

A glamor shot, to say the least.