Do You Facebook?

Why yes, yes I do.  I was skeptical at first.  I hated it when I first signed up... but now I love it because it can be quick and easy to check in on a good number of long lost friends and relatives or my neighbor down the street - one stop shopping.

I've also become a fb (that's what the cool kids say instead of typing the whole word out... yeah, I know... pretty hip) anyway, I've become a fb status update writer.  Blog entries are getting harder because I: 1.) I don't have the brain power anymore... 2.)  I don't have the time... 3.)  The stories I want to share can usually be summed up in a short little blurb.

I have been thinking for quite sometime that I need to start saving some of these status updates over here on the blog... because I don't think fb saves things infinitely and a lot of these incidences are things that I want to look back on and remember at some point... cuz often times, I have silly kids.

So if you are my fb friend already and you are reading this post, skip it... you've heard it all before and I really doubt that we're that interesting.  If you've never experienced the kookiness that is us, go ahead and read a few if ya wanna... but just know the main purpose for me putting these on here is to keep a record for the years to come.

if you want to derail your child's long drawn out verbal thought process, simply take your two index fingers and place them up your nose... the child won't remember what he was talking about.

stinkin' stink of stink and stink. I just ruined supper (on top of everything else today)... so forget it! we're goin' out for ice cream...

Huston just asked me if he could have dessert when the boy ate hardly anything for supper... are you kidding me? only I can eat unhealthy things in lieu of supper. sheesh. you'd think he'd know that by now.

wonders what it is about my front door that seems to draw our free-range chickens to forsake the 7 acres and huddle around the welcome mat.

when helping Lillie brush her teeth, as you finish the task, be sure to add "in the sink" to the end of the command for her to spit... yeah, trust me on this one.

if Avery went outside to play with the kittens and begins to sing "Super Kitty!," odds are you'll need to go out to intervene... just a general rule of thumb.

I fell victim to one of the classic blunders: never leave your drink alone with a 2 year old and only slightly less well known: never allow your son to be 6.

Avery just told me, "When I grow up, I'm gonna run fast and help people. I'll bring them a rope... or a string... or a barrel of monkeys." Comforting to know that he'll be prepared.

Lillie just declared herself a "cutie pie" and all the brothers agreed with her... a monster is being created. *sigh*

a good sign that you are raising a "country girl" is when your daughter's frilly ballerina tutu is filled with stick-tights.

is feeling really redneck... the woodstove guy came to deliver a part while I was standing outside covered in fish scales cleaning fish. ugh. at least all children were clothed and not peeing anywhere or shooting each other.

according to Huston's homework 0+0="nufing" hmmmm... thinking we need to review the existence of the number 0

I have decided to invent my own child translator. For example, when my 8 year old whines about having to do a job, he is actually saying, "Thank you mom for giving me tasks that will teach me to be tough and ready for the real world. You're the best." (btw, that "you're the best" part is at the end of all translations...)

While sitting down to dinner everyone was enjoying idle chit-chat when Avery says, "It's so nice when the neighbors come and throw dirt at us." Wasn't aware of that ever occuring... wishful thinking on his part I guess.

While I was cooking dinner tonight, Avery came in from playing outside and asked, "Mom, do you have a gun in the kitchen? I need to go shoot Isaiah." I had no comeback to that...

found out tonight that crows aren't the only ones who get the crap scared out of them by the strategic placing of a scarecrow. Thank you neighbor. sheesh.

Avery is requesting to watch "coyote and runrover" this morning...

I snitched a few Cheetohs off of Avery's plate at lunch, he caught me and said in a very sweet tone, "Aww... are you sharing my Cheetohs?" Such a gracious victim... almost made me feel guilty for stealing them... almost.

overheard conversation between Avery and Lillie: "Hey Lillie, ya remember... ya love me?" "Yeeeeaaaaah, Aaahvry"

was cutting apples for a dessert I'm making and Avery was sitting beside me keeping me company. He took an apple and held it up to his ear and said, "Hey mom! I can hear the ocean!" Such a silly boy.

was very entertained when Avery began his latest tattle with "Ummm mom. Once upon a time, Isaiah and Huston...." It seemed to make it a bit more bearable to listen to.

Avery, did you poke Huston with your pencil? "Uhhhh, I got a pencil.... cuz Huston took out his, uhhh, pocket knife... and tried to kill me...." *said while avoiding eye contact* I laughed and then I sent him to his room.

must confess I just hid in the van so I could eat a candybar without having to share it with the kids... I'm sure they would much rather have an apple... I needed more than they did... really.

the brothers just taught Lillie a valuable lesson in regards to emptying the dishwasher... you don't lick the silverware as you put them away. She was offended and there were tears but I'm thankful my boys were committed to proper procedure.

Avery is teaching Lillie the names of the Presidents that are found on Mt. Rushmore.... he said to her, "Look Lillie, this is George Washington... he says, 'Hey! I'm a man on a big rock!'" Such a great history teacher, that one.

Lillie is innocently taunting her older brothers by unintentionally referring to their current hero, Davy Crockett, as "Baby Crockett"

Lillie proudly helped me feed the chickens before heading inside to help me with supper... but she stopped in her tracks when I answered her question of what we were making with "chicken and rice"... she peered out the window overlooking the hen house and whispered, "We eat chickens?" Traumatic event #37 in my role of motherhood. Ooops.