One really good, productive day.

This is what I mumbled to myself as I drifted off to slumber land last night, all I need is one really good productive day.

One really good productive day and I could get my windows cleaned.
One really good productive day and I could deep clean the bathrooms.
One really good productive day and I could whip this house into shape.
One really good productive day and I could get my yard ready for fall.
(who has two thumbs and said a silent prayer of thanks for the frost that finally
 killed latest and greatest source of guilt--the garden?  THIS GIRL!!)
One really good productive day and I could change my decor to match the season.
One really good productive day and I could organsize many a space.
One really good productive day could change my world...
or so it would seem.

Hmmm, now to find the time and more importantly the motivation to make it all happen.

Step one:
Don't blog while waiting for the brownies you promised the YW you'd bring to volleyball tonight to bake.
Clean instead.  Duh.  That's a no brainer.

Farmboy

Mr. Grant D goes to school two days a week, all day.  On his days off he likes to spend as much time as possible in a tractor/farm implement of any description.
This morning shortly after the kids left for school he was ready to jump on his bike and head down to Grandma's to see what farm work needed to be done today.
I stopped him and asked him if he thought I should just keep him here with me so I wouldn't miss him too much while he was gone.

He said, "How about I give you a hug and then why don't you just take a picture of me and you can look at it if you get lonely."
Smart kid, so that's what we did.

With my mad baking skills I have won over many a child's heart,
but dang-it-all I cannot compete with Grandpa's farm!
Not in this kid's eyes at any rate.

New shoes?

Are there really women out there who go to work for a new pair of shoes??
....for themselves none the less???
Someone said this to me a few weeks before I started my job.
She said, and I quote, "Ohhh...a lunch lady, won't that be nice?  Extra money's always nice...you can get stuff for yourself, you could buy your self a new pair of shoes."
To be fair I should say that this lady probably didn't know what else to say to me, nor was she the first person to say this sort of thing to me.

Bare in mind this is not the first time I've brought in another source of income for our family.  My jobs have not been glamorous: cleaning houses, babysitting, web writing (okay so that doesn't have the same negative connotation) and lunch lady.
Not exactly fancy shmancy.
Never have I done it for a new pair of shoes.  That's ridiculous.

I've lived in the trenches, People.  I was in baby/toddler world for a long time.  I remember the days of multiple diaper changing, peed in pants, poopy undies, babies needing to be fed, burped, cuddled and snuggled.  I remember the snack fixing the crying, whining, fighting, and fussing.  I remember the bedtime 'thank the Heavens above I made it through another day' nightly sigh of relief.

I dare you to find me a mother that hasn't thought to herself in the midst of all this fantastic mothering,
"One day they will all be in school. One day all of these fabulous little people I have birthed from my body and by the sweat of my brow have loved and cared for every day will all be in school and I will no longer need to sneak a cookie, lock myself in the closet, gobble it down and then take 10 deep breathes before facing the natives."

Now, I suppose I can't speak for everyone--but as for me--I did not finish up that thought with "...and then I will leave my house and get a job."  Hello?  I'm like the poster child for the Suzie Homemaker Club. 
No.
The grand idea was to actually be alone.
At home.

Don't get me wrong, I still love my job.  I actually haven't hated any of the jobs I have done.  Okay, okay I kind of had a while when I pretty much hated doing day care, but for the most part I try to enjoy what ever I am doing.
You know, capre diem and all that crap.

I'm just saying, let's all try not to say stupid things.
I know, it happens to the best of us....

And here I am still doing everything I do for the little punks I raised from pups...I remember reading something about "Mother ducks pick feathers from their chests to line their nest".  Did you catch that?  "Mother ducks pick feathers from their chest to line their nest".  Did you know that?  Those mother ducks don't go picking up the strings and scraps where ever they can find them, they give their babies the very best they can.  I'm sure it hurts a little sometimes plucking out the best, softest feathers they have...but they do it any way. 
And so do I.
Here's to my punk duckies, I offer you the very best of me.

p.s.

i'm fully aware my posts

are seeming somewhat random,

even for me.

and that's saying something.

I am strong. I am courageous.

I am strong.  I am courageous.
Say it with me now:  I am strong. I am courageous.
I am full of strength and courage.
Strength is my weapon, courage my shield.

I know this is a weird post, but just trust me on this one.
And FYI in case you were wondering...
I can indeed do hard things.

That's all.
Peace out.

Working Girl.

It's official.  I have a "real job".  Please use dramatic air quotes when you say that...mmmkay?
Because heaven knows I have plenty of other (non-monetary paying) jobs to go around.  Plenty.
So, I am a lunch lady.  Not a glamorous sounding title, but I quite like it so far.

I love the ladies I work with, it's only a few hours a day, the kitchen is warm
(which is fantastic for a cold blooded creature like myself)--I've even been a bit too warm a couple of times--dare I say--I might even go so far as to say--sweaty, the kids are super cute, I get to wear comfy scrubs to work (hello? most new clothes i've had in years. courtesy of the school district) and since we all match I don't ever need to wonder what to wear--just throw it on and zip I'm ret-to-go.
  

This is Monday's outfit.  It's the perkiest one we have.  I mean, c'mon, who doesn't want lunch served to them by lovely ladies with frogs and flowers on their shirts?  Hmmm?  Nobody, that's who.

I work in a different school district then my own kiddos.  Which is good and bad.  Some of our vacations don't line up and I work on Fridays when my punks are out of school (remember? four day school week in P-town).
I'm just gonna go ahead and shoot straight with you here...I was more than happy to walk out the door Friday.  For the record, I think it's just kind of a cruel joke to start school in the middle of the week- go to school for two days- then have a three day weekend.  Seemed like a tease to me....but, what do I know?
I suppose what I am so delicately trying to say is this---I think I won't cry myself to sleep at night thinking about the days my punks will be home and I'll be gone for a few hours or the days that they will be in school and I get to stay home by my lonesome and not go to work.  I know, I'm just sort of a rude mother like that.

After a 17 year hiatus from a "real job" (remember, dramatic air quotes) where I clock in and clock out it does seem kind of strange to be back at it.
Strange, but good.
I think I really needed something like this in my life, plus it makes me miss my little buddy Grant Delish a wee little bit less.
And since I was such a picky eater as I child I never would eat school lunch
--even though I was supposed to and my dear old mother paid for it and I threw pretty much all of it away every day until I was ratted out by one of the lunch ladies and got a talking to about being wasteful from me mum and even after that I only ate a tiny bit more and yes when I think about that I kinda want to go back in time and slap myself upside the head (I hate waste now)--
so I get to redeem myself.

School lunch.
It's a good thing.
Peace out.
:o)

First Day.

Well, would you look what showed up at my door step this morning??? 
(Actually for the past two days...let's pretend I finished this yesterday, 
which was the official first day of school.
kthanks)

That's right--the Big Yellow Ticket to Solitude returns.

And when it left....

 ...it took all of these lovely people with it.  

 Adam.

A junior this year.  A JUNIOR.
That means we there's only one more first day of school for this guy.

I'm not sure how I feel about that.  Hello??  His birthday is Friday...and he'll be 17.

Did you catch that???  I said he'll be 17!!

Two years and he's off on his mission.

Holy Crap.

 

Audrey.

This lovely young lady started high school today.

I think she's been ready since 2nd grade.

I don't worry about her not being able to handle high school,

Frankly, I wonder if the high school is ready for her.

 

Lucy.

Goose is in the 7th grade this year.

She is such a funny girl...not really a fan of posing for the camera.

This was the closest thing to a "normal" picture we got.

She was pulling some pretty weird poses.

 

Elsie.

Elsie is in 4th grade.  

This girl is a lover of school.

I think mostly because it means she gets to socialize with more people.

What a cutie.

 

Grant.

My little buddy is in kindergarten.

It's kind of a killer, I quite enjoy this little man's company.

When I asked him if he missed me he replied,

"Well, no mom.  I kind of forgot you were even alive."

Ummm, okay. I'll try not to take that too personally.

 I'm just glad he had a fabulous day. 

Now, boys and girls, are we working on our counting?

Did everyone count up how many children got on the 

Big Yellow Ticket to Solitude??

That's right, Five.

And how many children does farmgirl have??

Yup, Five.

.......

It's SO weird.

SO WEIRD.

The 'How was your first day?' reports are in.

To sum it up...

A good time was had by all.

:o)

Abundant Harvest

So, did you ever hear the one about the lady who was buried alive by zucchini?
No?
Well, it's me.
No joke, I currently have 45 zucchini sitting on my counter.  And we have already shredded and frozen enough zucchini to make multiple batches of zucchini bread and brownies.  Plus there's more in the garden ready to be picked in few days.

I know a picture is worth a thousand words, and believe me when I tell you I would LOVE to photo document this craziness.  Unfortunately, my camera is lost.  These are the pitfalls of letting the children find ways to entertain themselves during the summer.  They take the camera, make crazy movies and take crazy pictures and before you know it...Look Ma, No Camera.  Eh, well.  I'm assuming it will turn up when the dust settles.

Of course I would like to have pictures to show you, but more importantly I'm going to need documentation to present to my dearly beloved husband next year when garden planting time rolls around.  He's a good man, but has a short memory for these things.  I need for him to remember that our plants are massive and produce more than all of Franklin County could consume.  I need for him to remember that the plant sizes range from a mere 6 foot diameter to a staggering 15 foot diameter...and that's plenty big.  I need for him to remember that NO ONE needs 12 varieties of zucchini and squash planted in their garden.

Please remember People, I'm no gardener.  I'm terrible at it in fact.  Sure, I try to fake it. But, who am I kidding?  I've spent so very little time out there this summer, I'm plant neglectful and a weeding fiasco. Imagine how this garden would do with someone who really knew what they were doing and put their heart into it.  Kind of frightening if you ask me.

Peace out.
If you need me I'll be shredding, blending, grilling, breading, frying or steaming zucchini.  And in my spare time I'll be pickling beets, like 14 quarts of them.

Love,
farmgirl

that's farmgirl. not gardengirl
could someone please tell mike that.

Hackee addresses Hacker

So, I really did get on here to post today.  For reals, it's all legit.
And then I discovered I was Hacked.
That's a really weird feeling.
It's like being spot lighted in Primary or something.

Good, and weird.  But good more than weird.
Thank you.
Everyone should get a shout out now and again, so thanks for giving me mine.

Now....who did it!?
There's brownies in it for anyone leading me to information about the culprit.
:o)

Hacked ;)

Attention everybody!

This Blog has now been hacked!

This Hacker would just like to say that this lady....

 

This lady right here...

This awesome, amazing, fun, incredible person....

 Is one of the most...

Is by far one of the greatest...

Most inspiring...

Most caring...

and above all...

Most loved person...

That this hacker has ever encountered.

So lets give it up, ladies and gentlemen, 

for this fantastic blessing that the Lord has given us all.

This is a tribute...

 

To one who has done a many great and wonderful thing.

People of the World...

I give you...

 The ever Loved...

Farmgirl.

Idaho's Stonehenge

Second crop hay- cut, raked, bailed, stacked and ready to be loaded and taken to the hay shed.
I love the way it looks in the field like this, it doesn't last long (like a day)--but I love it.

Just in case anyone is wondering...
You should know that summer is kinda kickin' my trash.

Sometimes I self medicate with lots of projects and hard work and other times I self medicate with warm brownies and cold milk.
It's about 60/40 right now.

Seriously, what's my deal?  Am I too busy?  Am I not busy enough?  Are my kids not busy enough?  Are we all just wound a little too tight?

Summer chores are killing me.  And it's a slow and incredibly painful death.
You know my summer philosophy, "Summer is a continual lowering of my cleanliness standards" and I have added "...until I drown in my own houseful of disgustingness, or they go back to school--which ever comes first."
It's not SO horrible, they do try (well some do...sometimes) but -let's face it folks- I'm a control freak when it comes to my house.  I just like it done my way.  Is that so terrible?  It should speak volumes of the love I have for my children that I am willing to give them the opportunity to learn to clean and to work, even though it makes me want to pull my hair out.
I love them just that much.  So much that I am willing to make them redo a job, more than once.  So much that I am willing to listen to them whine about doing their chores.  So much that I am willing to put up with weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth.  So much that I am willing to nag them until they do it.  So much that I am willing to not kick them all out of the house and do it all myself.  That's a lot of love, my friends.  A Lot.

And here's another question...Where exactly in the sand is the line drawn Bad Parenting wise?  Is it when you are just thinking that you should smack your teenager upside the head or is it when you actually do it?  I haven't done that, but there are moments when I think it seems like a fairly sound decision.
Please, someone tell me it's a phase!  That they are both phases--me wanting to smck them upside the head and them acting like a total dork deserving of a head smacking.  Where is the sweet person I carried for nine months and birthed from my body?  When did this alien negative being come into my life?  And more importantly, when are they leaving and my kid is coming back?

Okay, enough venting for now.

On a happier note:

I finally found a walking/running partner, which means I finally found a friend.  Two actually...sure, one of them is an oldie moldie friend living with her folks this summer whilst she's in the middle of a move across the country but beggars can't be choosers.  And I'm just happy to have some peeps to talk to that don't live an entire state (or two) away.

Vehicular drama is over.  We found and purchased a suburban.  We looked and looked and looked and found a great deal and had enough money left over to fix all the troubles with the truck.  And 'The Monica' has a smaller engine so it gets better gas mileage than the Beast did.  Win/Win


Hope summer is treating you well.
Peace out.
:0)

*post script *

*afternoon 7-13*

the teenage crabby-pants

is redeeming their

little teenage self.

and it's nice.