You did WHAT with the vacuum?

For the last few days I’ve been smelling gasoline whenever I walked by the front hall closet. Every day I passed it, I would stop and sniff, open the door, sniff some more, close the door and take another sniff but I was still unable to figure out where it was coming from. Max and I had gotten gas for the lawnmower and for his dirt bike a few days ago so I assumed he had spilled some on a sweatshirt and hung it in the closet.

Still, I thought the smell would dissipate over time. But it didn’t. It still smelled really strong a few days later so I decided to tear the closet apart to try and figure out where the smell was coming from. I buried my face into each and every coat and sweater in the closet and still could not find the source of the smell. I was like a woman possessed. I even sniffed my way through the mitten and hat baskets in my attempt to solve the mystery. Finally, I gave up.

Later, I went back to the closet and pulled out my canister vacuum to start cleaning the kitchen floor. When I turned it on, I immediately figured out where the gas was coming from. The minute I turned the vacuum on the smell of gas was OVERWHELMING. I quickly turned it off (before I blew up the whole house) and called to my son.

Me: “Max?”
Max: “Yeah Mom?”

Me: “Honey, could you please come here a minute?”
Max: “Sure Mom. What’s up?” he asked as he, way too casually, entered the area.

Mind you, my eyes are watering because of the fumes at this point. I’m frantically opening windows and swooshing a dish towel around trying to “shoo” the smell out the windows. I’ve asked Zoe to cover her mouth with a wet rag and try to save the pets. After her second pass through the area, hot on the trail of our, now wide-eyed dog and cat, I turn to see Max leaning against a nearby wall.

Me: “Uh honey. I know this might sound like a silly question but you didn’t, by chance, happen to use my canister vacuum to syphon gas lately, did you?”
Max: “I don’t think so.”

At this point I have now opened up the vacuum and pulled the vacuum bag out of it. I stick my nose into it and I’m overcome with the smell of gas. Reeling backwards, I turn to him and say, “Ok sweetie. I’m going to give you one last chance at that question. Just. One. Last. Chance. You might consider telling me the truth, especially in light of the overwhelming evidence before us now.”

He took a minute to consider my advice. While he weighed his options, I absent-mindedly began to try to disassemble the vacuum hose attachments. It consisted of three straight tubes stuck together with a floor attachment on the end. I tried to pull the tubes apart and they WOULDN’T BUDGE. They were melted together. I gave up and turned to my son and said, “Well?”

“Mom, I thought about using the shop vac but I knew you’d be mad about that. I had planned to turn it off before the gas got into the vacuum but I couldn’t see it until it was too late.”

I had no idea what to say. Really. It had not occurred to me to say “Sweetie, remember not to syphon gas with the vacuum today!” as I left the house. As if I was reminding him to brush his teeth and feed the cat. Should it have occurred to me? Based on prior incidents, well, maybe.

I couldn’t possibly remember to call out daily warnings to him and think that I would cover them all. He is a constant surprise to me, this kid, and I never seem quite able to anticipate what will come next with him.

Here is a small list of things I never thought I’d say:
“Get that chicken out of the house”, “The dog doesn’t want to wear those pants”, “You can’t ride the llama”, “The lawnmower is NOT for racing”, “No, you may not use the chainsaw as a weapon”, the list goes on, and on...

Full Moon

While I won't get too specific about what I do for a living (because I kind of really need to keep my job), suffice it to say that I work in the world of Health Care. It's an intersting job, it pays well and, most days, I really enjoy it. However, as the moon begins to get full, things get a little tricky. Strike that. People get monkey shit crazy. You would not even believe the phone calls that I have fielded the last few days and I only wish that I could give you the true details of them but I can't. Because it's a breach of confidentiality. But REALLY? These people are nuts!

Complaints about soup being too cold (since when is a hospital a hotel?), complaints about a visitor wearing a hat the "wrong way" (WHAT?), complaints about being "lonely" and wanting more "attention", complaints about being mistreated after SCREAMING profanities at the staff members. You wouldn't believe what doctors and nurses have to put up with these days and that's in the clinics. Don't even get me started on the Emergency Room Staff. Those people are SAINTS. I wouldn't last a minute down there. Not one minute.

So today, my co-workers and I, will have our eyes on the clock. Counting the minutes until the phones shut off at 4:00 pm. Hoping that the week-end will be sufficient time for the moon to stop being so damn full.

Llamas Don't Have it Easy Either

The kids are FINALLY back to school. The first week had some bumpy spots (Zoe is NOT a morning person) but, for the most part, we persevered. The paperwork pile is already over my head and I'm scrambling to check the kids' planners every night to be sure that I don't miss anything. At least not just yet. By December I'll feel that I have "proven myself" enough to the teachers to back it down a little. Still, it's a challenge to stay on top of it all right out of the starting gate.

I love teachers, I truly do. They are amazing, wonderful people who teach, love and instruct our children with patience and understanding. And they don't get paid nearly enough. So I really can't fault them for their (sometimes) passive-aggressive attempts to trip me up. (This could be a skewed perspective on my part perhaps?)

Yesterday, Zoe's planner listed "bring a sock to school tomorrow". Really? It didn't explain what the sock was for, what type of sock it should be or what would happen if you DIDN'T bring the sock. What if I hadn't checked the planner? Zoe would most likely be the only "sockless" kid in the class and it would ruin the rest of her year - girls are dramatic like that.

But I DID check the planner and I DID send the sock because I'm not going down that easy. Boo-ya.

The other day I was sitting out on my screen porch after a long day at work, just relaxing. I looked out at the goat pen and saw the following scene. Manny the llama, was quietly laying down in a nice patch of sand with just a hint of sunlight warming his back. He looked so peacful, calm and relaxed. His eyes were partially closed as if he were just having a nice little rest. Until.

Cheerio and Cammy (two of our goats) were nearby and were messing around. They were chasing and head-butting each other as they often do for fun. The fun got a little too raucous and FAR to close to Manny. Manny's ears went back and he raised his nose into the air as if to spit. Finally, Cheerio hit Cammy and sent her sprawling right into Manny and that's when the spitting began in earnest. I swear that I could hear him thinking "Can I just have ONE MINUTE of rest please?" "Why do I constantly have to deal with the two of you messing around?" "Don't I do enough for you that I deserve a little peace?"

It's a damn shame that goats don't go back to school too. Poor llama. I hear ya brother!

Sometimes You Can't Pull Up

A very dear friend gave me this advice when I called her yesterday. I told her I was really struggling to "pull up" and get through my day. I was feeling sad, angry and really out of sorts. I was frustrated that I couldn't make myself better and just get over it. She said, "There will be days when you just can't pull up. Your best bet is to just keep her steady." And sometimes that looks an awful lot like popcorn and movie night with the kids.

The sadness comes over me in waves sometimes and it's rarely when I expect it. I can be doing just fine and then something will set me back - a thought, a memory, a feeling. It feels like a physical blow to the gut when it hits and it's so debilitating. I get upset and sad so easily sometimes. I'm usually pretty controlled and on top of things but the divorce is just not what I expected. I didn't exactly expect to feel happy throughout the process but I didn't think it would be this hard either.

And I'm convinced that this time of year is tricky for all mothers, not just me. It's a time for transition - kids going back to school, getting back into the routine of it all - and I guess that, this year, I've had enough change already, thank you very much. I know a lot of moms around me who are struggling as well. Making sure you have all the school paperwork filled out, the classes signed up for and the uniform payments made, can take a lot out of a gal. Especially when you have more than one child. Plus, there's all of those orientation meetings to attend and information to load onto the family calendar. Planning ahead for days when the kids won't be in school is one more thing to consider.

It's all overwhelming me right now and I'm just not sure how to handle it all. But what option do I have? None. It has to be done and I have to be the one to do it, so I will.

Still, please allow for some upcoming whining....

Mama Said There'd Be Days Like This

Just when I think I'm getting back on top and settling in to my new reality, I'm thrown a curve ball that puts me back at the starting gate again. Without going into too much detail, suffice it to say that I got really worked up and worried about the kids. It was not without merit but it was a rough go of it nonetheless. My tired and puffy eyes this morning are a testament to the terrible night of "what ifs" that I endured last night.

I feel calmer today. Fresher today. A little better able to tackle the situation at hand but still not as strong as I'd like to feel. Everyone around me tells me how strong and capable I am but some days I still just want to pull the covers over my head and not get out of bed. I suppose that's normal. Still, these setbacks frustrate me and make me wonder if I'm on the right path and doing this whole thing "right".

Chickens Without Feelings

I entered the chicken coop this morning to collect eggs, feed the chickens and let them all out. As I turned to my right, I noticed a bird that was lying motionless under the laying boxes. I mean really motionless. Like dead motionless. The life of a “farmer” (and I use the term very loosely in relation to myself) is sometimes a difficult row to hoe. There is life and there is death. There is sometimes pain and suffering and sometimes not. I took a moment to reflect on the life of this particular bird and thank her for her service to our family in providing eggs.

But, as these things go, there are always the practical matters that must be addressed. Carcass removal was at the top of that list this morning. I’m not so great with this sort of thing, you might be surprised to know. Dead things kind of freak me out. Plus, her legs were all stuck out straight kind of like she’d been just standing around, being a chicken, and then just fell over dead. I couldn’t bring myself to just grab her by the legs and haul her out of there, mostly because I didn’t want to actually touch her. A quick glance around the barn proved that my shovel was not present – most likely hauled off to some other part of the yard by the kids for God only knows what purpose. Still, I was in kind of a time crunch so I just had to make do. I grabbed a milk crate and then looked around for something that I could use to push her body into the crate with. The only thing I had in my hand was the feeding scoop that I use to feed the chickens.

Living on a farm you get over the whole “germ” thing pretty quickly. Most people would become faint with some of the non-sterile things that go on around here. It is not at all a rare occurrence to have the kids complain to me about having chicken crap squish between their toes. “You’re fine,” I’ll say. “Just rub it off in the grass”.

So you might think that it might not be a good idea at all to scoop up a dead chicken with the very utensil that I would then use to feed the living chickens. But you weren’t in my shoes (and work clothes) this morning so you’d have to get over it.

I positioned the crate to receive the body and took the scoop and started to try and wrangle her (surprisingly floppy) body out from under the nesting boxes. What I did not anticipate was the reaction of the other birds. The minute they saw the feed scoop they went into a sort of frenzy, assuming that it was feeding time. They trampled all over their fallen comrade in an attempt to get to the corn that would invariably be delivered.

So now, I’m pushing them away with my foot, shooing them away with the grain scoop and frantically trying to get the body into the crate. I’m also yelling nonsensical things such as “Have some respect” and “Did her life mean nothing to you?” at a bunch of chickens.

Once I got her into the milk crate, I set her up on top of the cage and went about the rest of the feeding schedule. Gave the goats and llama some hay, put some corn scratch in the yard for the chickens and fed the cat. Then, I went back into the barn, grabbed the milk crate and chucked the whole damn thing into the weeds. Gross. I didn’t really need that milk crate anyway.

Pinned

(This is kind of how I looked but I would never wear those shoes)

As many of you know, I'm a bit of a DIYer  when it comes to my home. I'm always painting or redoing something. Plus, I'm always on the look out for something to add to the house. Craigslist, picking up stuff at the side of the road, whatever, I'm all over it. Today, that got me into some trouble.

My sisters are always yelling at me about getting stuff off Craigslist by myself. "You could be KILLED", "Remember the Craigslist killer?", "What if it's some psycho luring you to your death?"  Whatever, I got a great TV and TV stand for $30 just a few weeks ago (WHOLE story about that one later...).

Anyway, on my way to work today I was driving down Miller Road and saw a table on the side of the road. Truth be told, it was more of a work bench, but the top was FANTASTIC and I just had to have it. I pulled over, laid down the seats in the car, turned on my hazard lights and popped the trunk.

The table was in two parts - the top separate from the bottom - so I thought I'd get the top part in first. Hmmm, kind of heavy. Like REALLY heavy. Still, I consider myself to be quite strong and robust so I thought I'd give it a go. I lifted it ever so slightly, just enough to get the tips of my shoes under the bottom of it and then the whole scene went to hell.

As if in slow motion, the table came towards me and I was forced to the ground. Pinned under this beast of a table (that I still desperately wanted), I had no idea what to do. My head was actually laying in the gravel at the side of the road as I alternately struggled to free myself and jerked my head around to make sure that no one was witnessing this.

After a few minutes I actually considered that I might have to flag down a passing motorist to help get me out from under this thing. My pride got the best of me and I gathered my strength for one final push. I was able to slip out of my shoes and shimmy myself free of the table while grabbing the bumper of the car for support.

Mind you, this was all on my way to work, dressed in work clothes. I got up, dusted myself and called my INCREDIBLE nephew Ethan, dragged him out of bed and BEGGED him to go and get it for me. Which he did because he's kind of awesome that way. So now the table is safely in my garage and I can't wait to get started on refinishing it! It's going to be the PERFECT dining room table when it's done. I'll try to get a picture posted soon!

Best. In-Laws. Ever.

My wonderful and amazing in-laws, Dave and Suzie, just returned from a five day trip to Drummond Island with my kids and two other kids as well. As they pulled into the driveway and the kids piled out of the car, Dave and Suzie looked just a little bit dazed and frankly, kind of pale.

Unfortunately, they had stopped at the Ponderosa two hours before arriving home and had "ok'd" the kids accessing the all you can eat, soft serve, ice cream bar. The last two hours of that ride probably took 10 years off their lives and I feel kind of bad about that. Still, I'm awfully grateful that I was NOT in that car.

During the trip up North, I spoke with the kids numerous times. Checking in, catching up, hearing about their day, etc. They were riding bikes, fishing, kayaking, boating and swimming. It's truly a kid's paradise up there.

I couldn't be more grateful for the gift of the kid free time. I love my kids, they are my whole world, but having someone take them off my hands for five days is sometimes exactly what I need. It was wonderful. And I got my kitchen painted. Best. In-Laws. Ever.

Attack!!!

I was painting the kitchen last week-end, windows wide open, music blasting, when I heard a disturbance in the yard. The chickens were raising such a fuss. There's always something they're trying to work out amonst the flock but this sounded, I don't know, more FRANTIC. So I went running out the front door and, lo and behold, A CHICKEN HAWK was trying to take one of my hens!!!

He was on top of her trying to dig his enormous talons into her and lift her into the air. Chickens were scattering and running for cover in all directions while this one hen battled for her life.

Have I mentioned that Max has a bad habit of leaving his toys laying around in the yard? I grabbed the first thing I saw, which happened to be Max's baseball bat, and ran into the fray, screaming bloody murder. The hawk, stunned by my sudden and bizarre approach, let go of my hen and flew off. I saw that he flew into a nearby tree so I ran to the tree, shaking my baseball bat at him and yelling threats. Truly, the neighbors are WAY over expecting anything less than me "threatening a tree" these days.

Then I got down on my hands and knees in the front yard to reassure the flock that everything was ok and that they were safe. So the neighbors most likely witnessed me "whispering reassuring words" to the pine trees as well. At least I assume that's what the police report will read.

Still and all, the hawk lost and I won. Plus, I was happy that I was better armed this time. Last time it happened a fox was trying to take a hen and I was armed with only a spatula and an oven mitt.

Julie - 2
Wildlife - 0

One Tough Mudder

Seriously. This is like nothing I've ever seen before. So much mud, fire, water, electrical shocks, walls, logs and more mud. And these people you see above braved it all (minus one who was smart enough to walk around a shock station - not naming names...). They were/are fierce, strong and brave and I am amazed by each and every one. I cannot believe some of the obstacles they endured only to receive an orange headband, a t-shirt and a beer. Oh, and well deserved BRAGGING RIGHTS!

It was such a cool day and such an amazing thing to witness!! The people that participated were so absolutely powerful!! They faced each obstacle as a team and got each other through it all. No one left behind. Ever. That, my friends, is what family is all about. My cousin Jesse is quite a veteran of these events - I believe he's done five of them already including the "Worlds Toughest Mudder". He led his team with such grace, support, kindness and fun. I swear to you that he looked like he was on a walk through the park the entire time.  

It was so great to be able to spend time with my "California" family who we just don't get to see enough. To be surrounded by love and fun and joy was the absolute best way to spend my week-end.

I would have posted some video as well but, well, there were some issues. First of all, I had never used the camera before so, apparently, I didn't know when I was turning if off or on. Lots of nice footage of my shirt, my shoes and the inside of my snack bag. Secondly, in hindsight, I probably should have muted the sound when I was taping them crawling on their bellies through muddy water while electrical shocks zapped their backs. Little bit of strong language that will most definetely require some editing.

Lastly, while being the primary videographer, I was also responsible for FIVE children. Max, Zoe, Lucy, Jack and Sam. I was also hauling along about twelve pounds of snacks and water, bug spray, sunscreen, ipods, phones, cameras, and extra clothes. Most of the snacks had been eaten within the first hour of the race (which lasted 5 hours). Sam was covered in mud from head to toe at the beginning of the first obstacle. I lost track of him at least four times. Jack was in tears from a wrestling injury which I did not witness due to filming so I couldn't even place the proper blame on the offender. Zoe was starving and upset that her pants got wet from the grass. Lucy was thirsty and kept asking "Can Zoe and I have a sleep-over tonight?" Two hours into it they were pretty much done. We made our way back to the finish line where I had to buy them each $5 nachos and $5 lemonades (Thank you Mom and Sue) just to keep them from completely falling apart. They were exhausted, sunburned, muddy and crabby. Then we had to do the 1/2 mile trek just to get back to the car. Whew.

I did get some decent footage, just not what I had THOUGHT I was getting. More importantly, I returned to the finish line with the five original children I started out with and they were all alive. I consider that to be a pretty good ending to the day. 

Break In

It's happened again - my house has been broken into. This is not your usual "smash and grab", it's more of a "clean and repair". I remember the first time it happened a few months ago. I came home, tired, dejected and sad. Something in the house just felt different. I walked around a little bit trying to discern what it could be and then it hit me "This house has been cleaned". Not in the creepy-old-lady-in-Poltergeist cleaned but actually picked up, vacuumed, dusted and wiped down. I remember walking by my bed and thinking "I don't remember making my bed this morning" but I had been in such a fog that I couldn't remember much of anything.

And so it's been happening for the last few months. I'll come home to find mysterious things. A gift card to the grocery store on the counter, a new wheelbarrow on the front porch, a security door installed, vacuum marks on the carpet.  Sometimes I can figure out who was responsible but most times everyone just smiles and shrugs their shoulders.

To think how I would manage without these break-ins is unthinkable. The way it lifts my mood and spirits cannot be overstated. It restores my faith in humanity and gives me the strength to go on.

I got a call yesterday from one of these scoundrels and she said, "I have good news and I have bad news. Which do you want first?" I've been in sort of a dark place lately, obviously, so I said "Bad News". 

"I got bleach spots on one of your bathroom rugs".

"And the good news?" I asked.

"Your shower has been scrubbed with bleach." 

I still don't see the bad news in that scenario.    

Letting Go

Tonight is about letting go. Letting go of the pain, of the heartache, of the misery. Letting go of those who have mislead me, whether intentional or not. I choose not to carry the pain anymore. I choose to live life as I was destined to live it. Not as a portion of someone else but as my own true self. I harbor no anger this evening. I have only love and I focus on letting go of that which has kept me from who I am supposed to be. I put love into the universe and I receive it back tenfold. I am surrounded by love and support that I never could have imagined existed and I am grateful. Grateful for those who have seen my pain and stepped into it with me instead of running away. Grateful for those who have picked me up when I've fallen and felt that I couldn't possibly rise again. They have shown me who I am and who I am destined to be. They have told me of a great future of love and forgiveness and freedom that I didn't know existed. And I believe them. With all my heart.

You put the lawnmower WHERE?

Ah the first week of summer vacation and the kids are already bored. Short of renting a daily magician, arts and crafts leader and swimming instructor, not sure what they were expecting. Today is just another Wednesday for me. At work. As per usual.

Got a call from Max a few minutes ago that, oddly, went right to voicemail. (these kids are so tech savvy). The voicemail went a little something like this:

"Mom, we have a problem. I was mowing the hill by the tree fort when I remembered that the brakes weren't working on the mower and the mower ended up in the swamp. I tried everything but can't get it out and now it's stuck and all covered in mud. Call me."

Not even sure where to start with the list of rules that were broken in this most recent incident. Rule number 1: No power tool use while I am not there to supervise (he claims that he didn't remember that one). Rule number 2: Don't mow that hill because it's too steep for the lawnmower. Rule number 3: The brakes don't work on the damn mower!!

So now, when I get home from work, I will have to come up with some sort of plan to extract said mower from the swamp. It will be mucky and stinky and he may have broken it completely. Add it to the damn list. It terrifies me sometimes to think of what is going through his mind in the midst of these "incidents".  For instance, is there an "Oh sh*t" moment or does that only occur after the fact? I really am curious.

When you're headed down a steep hill towards a swamp and the lawnmower you're riding has no brakes, what are you actually thinking will be the outcome?

Reminds me of one of my favorite sayings:

"When the lights are flashing and the gates are down and the siren's screaming out in the rain. And you're standing on the tracks and you're looking at the facts, you can't blame the wreck on the train."

A Certain Kind of Hell

Life is not exactly good right now. In fact, it feels more like a series of bad dreams and tests designed to try and kill me. I wander through my days in a constant fog and I cry through my nights. I don't know what I need or when I need it but those who love me always do and they always come through for me. Always. Without them I would be nothing.