Home is where the mess is...

It's very true that home is where the heart is. I can attest to this. Living like a military family, and nomading (yes, it's a word) around the Midwest, I know positively that home is where Ben and the girls are. I can make a home anywhere as long as they are there!

So, after a crazy morning of packing lunches, letting dogs out, letting dogs in and cleaning off 8 paws and 2 muddy noses (if you are asking yourself where the other 4 paws and extra nose are, they are attached to Zoe who is lazy and will roll out of bed about 10 or 11), and cleaning out and organizing my pantry and fridge, I sat down to relax with my second cup o' joe and saw it... THE MESS! Yep, home is also where the mess is! I looked at the floor and saw a mud spot in the freshly cleaned carpet (thanks, BACC), looked to my left and saw a lampshade that was so crooked it was hanging on only with the help of the dust, I looked around the room and saw 5 tennis balls (2 partially eaten, 3 whole ones ). To my right was my favorite sweatshirt blanket from The New River, bought during our whitewater vaca last year, containing enough holes to make it NOT qualify as a blanket anymore. At the front door lays a ripstik that Caty rides tirelessly when home. It takes her to the door in the morning before school and she hops on it as soon as she walks in the door in the afternoon. On my office desk lays 2 digital cameras and a video camera for transferring pics from Cate's Narnia play last night (I got the pics on the PC with no problem, but for the life of me can not remember how to put the video on it!) On the mantle rests a HUGE blueprint drafted by Ali as a school project; not in a frame mind you, just rolled up like a poster, because that is as far as it got after school yesterday! Point is, it's like a tornado rips through this house every day! Don't get me wrong, my house is clean. I HATE clutter and dirtiness, but I am slowly (kids are 14 and 11) learning to not be so OCD about the house, because it's a LOSING battle. It is impossible to have a spotless house when 4 people and 3 dogs LIVE in it! If you have this and your house is spotless, send me tips! It's just that all this crap in my house reminds me that this mess directly coincides with my heart, because they are a part of the people (yes, we consider our dogs people) I love more than life. So, if home is where the mess is, THERE IS NO PLACE I WOULD RATHER BE!!!

To Pee or Not to Pee? THAT is the question...

When you are pregnant, it is such a joyous time. People are so nice to give you all kinds of unsolicited advice... where to give birth (no thanks, I prefer not to get birthing juice all over the same place I shave my legs), whether or not to find out the sex of your baby (the fact that we were pregnant at 21 was a surprise enough, so we went ahead and found out the gender), which nipples were best for the little bundle of joy ( I tried to make sure they were mine, but Ali ate to much and the real things got raw and bled, SOOO we went with the synthetics). My personal favorite was a when a girl told me I shouldn't drink caffeine because it would make my baby's head shrink ( FALSE!!! My baby was 10 pounds at birth, and 7 of it was head! Now that baby carries a consistent 4.0+ gpa, so I say, CAFFEINE IT UP, MOMMA'S!!) Most of the advice and 'helpful' hints were OK, and as a first time mother I listened to every piece of it! BUT, what I would have really appreciated was some honest to goodness, hard~truth, facts about the whole process! For example, I would have loved to have been warned that when you are pregnant you can develop hymroids. At 21 I had no clue what these were, so when I discovered them, I thought I had only months to live. I would have loved for someone to tell me to not even bother packing my size 8 jeans to come home from the hospital in. I would have happily packed my MC Hammer pants to avoid the post-partum breakdown that happened in my hospital room when I couldn't pull the size 8's over my knees! I would have LOVED to be warned that after birthing my baby, I would most definitely not be able to cough, sneeze, laugh, or jog, without peeing my pants! That one was a real eye~opener (oddly enough, I use that one as an excuse as to why I can't jog! THANK YOU incontinence!)!
This is why when I happen upon a pregnant woman all glowy and happy, I proudly tell her all the things I was never told! Sure, I may come across as a Debbie-Downer, but I can almost guarantee that it's MY words of wisdom that sticks with her most! I tell her not to over~eat just because she is 'eating for two', or she will gain 90 pounds like I did (I know! It's true! Why did I think I could wear the size 8's home? Did I honestly think I would birth 90 pounds?) I assure/warn her that laughter will become funnier/mortifying when she pees her pants during it! But mostly I warn her that once she holds that baby for the first time, she will never be the same! She will know love that she never knew existed. She will finally know what it's like to say you would die for someone and mean it! Motherhood is unparalleled to ANYTHING in the world! That is why I enjoy every time I pee my pants for I know it's my girls gift to me!

Antarctica

We are the world

My two cents on 'Christian' protesters...

There has been a lot in the news lately about so called 'christian' groups protesting funerals of fallen soldiers. I have watched video coverage of these 'Christians' in action; they hold signs reading "thank God for 9/11", "semper fi semper fags", "thank God for IED's", "God is your enemy", "Not blessed just cursed" and "thank God for dead soldiers". WOW! What bible are they reading? The Christians I surround myself with would have been inside the church, holding the hands of the family members, consoling them, and telling them how sorry they were for their loss, while at the same time THANKING them for the sacrifice they have made for the good of humanity. The Christians I know would have made meals for these families and brought them groceries. They would have provided a quiet ear to listen to the family revel in stories of their personal hero or they would read them scripture from the bible reassuring them of the beauty that surrounds their lost soul now and, help lead them too, down the path of eternal life. To say I am disgusted that these folks use the term 'christian' as a platform for hatred is a GRIEVOUS understatement. The bravest thing they have ever done is picket in front of a funeral home for people who are to distraught to fight back. Meanwhile, the HERO that fought to defend them, and their hate-filled souls, lies in a coffin, draped in an AMERICAN FLAG, just feet away. I know what the bible says is right and wrong. I also know that the bible says Judge Not Lest Ye Be Judged, and Let He Who is Without Sin Cast the First Stone. I choose to 'love they neighbor' without condition... not 'love thy neighbor unless they are gay or don't have the same beliefs I do'. I am going to be the christian that loves all God's creatures and leaves the judgements to Him.
I am thankful for the Patriot Guard who rallies for good at these funerals and let's them know that their loss was NOT in vain. I am thankful that the majority of Americans, christian or not, are crying right along side them. I pray for these lost 'christian' souls. I pray they read the good word and let the true meaning of Christianity sink in. I pray that they learn the true meaning of God's word before they pass on this blatant hatred to their children. I pray that they can knock down those walls of hate and for the first time feel the real meaning of God's love, BECAUSE IT IS AWESOME!
Rest assured ye of little faith; THESE ARE NOT ACTUAL CHRISTIANS! Yes, they are children of God, we all are, but they are also zealots giving Christianity a very bad name. True Christians accept you for who you are and love you in spite of it...just like Jesus did for them. True Christians 'hate the sin, and love the sinner'! I would just like to say to these 'Christians'...if you are so disgusted by the ones that are giving their lives FOR YOU...YOU ARE FREE TO LEAVE!

RIP ALL FALLEN SOLDIERS, AND MAY GOD LAY HIS HAND UPON ALL THAT ARE STILL FIGHTING FOR US EVERYDAY AND BRING YOU HOME SAFELY!!!!

Peanut butter time!!!

Scarlet has be seeing red...

What do Dennis the Menace, Charlie Sheen, Lindsay Lohan, Gary Busey, Paris Hilton, Hannibal Lecter, and Sasquatch all have in common? Give up? They are all fictitious characters/caricatures that cause massive amounts of trouble wherever they go...well, all but Dennis the Menace. He is real and just happens to be my beautiful nephew T(shout-out to Senor Sassypants)!
I was thinking about troublemakers [again] this morning as I was pulling the rolls of toilet paper out of Scarlet's mouth [again]! As I was jogging circles around the kitchen table chasing my angel, I was trying to think of a word to describe her and the 'lust for life' zeal that she brings to our home on an every second basis. Could it be 'feral'? 'Untamed' maybe? 'Tempestuous' even crossed my mind. In the end I came to the conclusion that there is not one single word that can pinpoint her. If I had to describe her I would have to say she is "The bane of my existence. The one who drives me crazy every single second I am home. The one who requires more attention than all 6 of the other living creatures in my house ~ COMBINED. The one that is smart enough to open an automatic trash can and open the back door herself when she is ready to come in, but still hasn't learned what 'don't jump' or 'stay' mean. The one that is so socially bitchy to my other dogs that I am afraid to take her in public for fear of how she will treat others {I'd know it's 'all talk', but they wouldn't}. The one that LOVES more than anything to snack on toilet paper all day. The one that has a setting three times higher than her older, much bigger brother, for her shock collar." I think that is a good way to START to describe her to anyone that doesn't know her. This dog has driven me to make my wine glass a little fuller at dinner on many occasions.
That being said, when she isn't causing me to batten down the hatches, she is a doll. She loves to curl up on the couch at night and sleep, chasing whatever she is torturing in her dreams. She loves to 'protect' me from Hank when he wants my attention. She makes me laugh a hundred times a day in a hundred different ways.
I wanted her because I wanted another dog just like Hank, and I managed to pick the one that only has their breed in common. And for that, as much as I complain, I am grateful. She is gong to get out of this puppy stage soon (please God)and will be the dog that I know she can be. Until then, I will keep drinking and supplying you with funny (for you) stories about my dysfunctional dog.