Cheek Flappers

I've been wondering, at what stage in life do we become embarrassed to fart in front of people. I think for girls it is quite early, 2 to 3 yrs old. I don't know. I don't remember my mom having a "beans and fluff talk" with me. Now boys it is different. Steven takes great joy in sharing his farts. I made the mistake of laughing at one of his more audible farts and said "That was quite the cheek flapper." So around here its cheek flappers. My husband at 42 will fart in front of friends of ours he feels comfortable with while I turn red with embarrassment. Now why is it that a man can fart and everyone laughs "Oh man! You're rotten! Phew!". But if a woman lets one rip? Uncomfortable pause in conversation.
With Steven starting school soon, I've been discussing with him how its not polite to fart in front of other people. I could see the wheels a turnin'. "Where will my farts go if I hold them in forever?" So I helped him plan the great gas attack. Well I said, "When you are on the playground you walk away from people and let a fartie free. And when you go the bathroom, you get as many out as possible." He seemed relieved especially when I told him once he got home he could let em rip.
All of this has made me think about all the mortification gas has brought to me. Let me take you there. I'm 16 yrs old out on a first date with a hottie. Hottie and I meet up with some friends and all hop in a car together. We drove to an isolated place to drink beer and smoke. The owner of the car had an awesome stereo system and loved his music loud. As we are sitting there drinking, laughing and rupturing our ear drums to the music, I started to feel a bubble of gas inching its way down to freedom. Now you would think with the music so loud I would just let her go. But odor cannot be drowned out by Journey no matter how loud its played. So I squeezed the butt cheeks together and forced the bubble back up. Well this happened a couple of times and I was feeling pretty proud of myself....when the bubbles joined forces and retaliated. I farted. Not out of my butt, but internally. I don't know how else to describe it. Over the loud vocalizing of David Lee Roth, this rolling sound erupted, not a quick explosion but a loooonnnnngggg drawn out rumble. I hoped no one else could hear this rebellion over the music and kept on laughing and talking. When Hottie looks at me and says, "What the hell was that?" Now me being quick minded, looked out the closed window and said "I don't know but I'm scared." I don't think he bought it because when they dropped me off at the house Hottie just said bye and never got out of the car.
Shortly after Hubster and I were married, we had just gotten to bed and I felt this pressure building. So I got up and went in the bathroom and let the beast free. The smell was tolerable but not pleasant. I returned to bed thankful I hadn't let it fluff under the sheets and fell to sleep. About an hour later, I wake up to Hubster getting out of bed to go pee and immediately feel the pressure of the beast. So I hurry up and squeezed it out. The smell. Oh the smell. I never knew my body could produce such a rank rotting stench. As I hear the toilet flush, I hurry and fluff the blankets around hoping to lighten the stench and pretend to be asleep. Hubster comes in, lays down and I hear "sniff sniff". He sits up and leans over the side of the bed. Sits up and turns on the light, "Dear I think the cat shit behind the bed!" In a groggy pretense I get up and help him look for the pile of steaming stench. After moving the bed across the room and not discovering the pile, Hubster grabs up the innocent sleeping cat from its bed, "You rotten bastard! You can sleep outside!". I never told my husband that it was me and I to this day I still do a fart odor test in the bathroom before bed because I'm scared to sleep outside.

Old Doggie

Valentines Day 1990 Hubster walked into my hair salon with this tiny bundle of fur and presented me with my new baby. We named him Griz since he sounded like a little bear when he played. About 2 weeks later Hubster broke his leg and while he was laid up Griz became his baby. I still was the one who took him out in the frigid air at 3:00 am, fed him and groomed him, but Hubster was the one who stole Griz's heart. Griz is now 15 1/2 years old.
I remember on several occasions, Hubster and I have discussed that we would never let a dog suffer due to old age. We have often judged other dog owners of how unfair it is to keep a dog alive when they can no longer get around and how selfish it is for them to do so. Well for the past 2 years Griz has been failing. It started with him having trouble getting up the porch steps and for about a year now he has been deaf. This Spring Hubster built a ramp up into the house so Griz wouldn't have to climb steps. I often use the porch light to get Griz's attention when its time to come in at night. We keep finding ways to get around Griz's disabilities. But we are finding it hard to know when to say when. He seems to be doing okay. He has a geriatric checkup yearly and always gets good results.
The thing is we are now the recipients of judgment from friends and family who think its time we put Griz down. Amazing how things come around huh? I hope that when Griz does go that it is painless and quick. I will not let him suffer if his organs start shutting down or he gets cancer. But I still feel he is still just my little old man and how can you put someone down just for being old, deaf and slow.
He is a tough old coot though. A couple of months ago, I was leaving to pickup Steven from Pre-school. I always look behind the car for Griz and did so then. I began to backup and was thinking the tires I had put on the day before sure made the car feel sluggish and then I heard a hoarse bark. I immediately stopped and thinking I had just ran into Griz I was going to go forwards, but my head said no...check where he is before you move. Thank goodness I didn't move for his head was right in front of the back tire. Griz was trying to crawl out from underneath the car. I figured I'd have to jack the car up to get him out, just as I was moving to stop the motor Griz got out on his own. As he walked away he would go a few feet and then his butt would drop to the ground. I thought for sure I had either broke his back or hips. I have never felt as helpless at that moment in my life. Thankfully my sil was within yelling distance and she helped me get him in the truck. While she drove the truck with Griz, I took my car since I had Dean in there in his car seat. All the way to the vet Dean kept asking me if Griz had a booboo. I felt awful. When we arrived at the vets, Griz was still standing in the back of the truck and seemed somewhat alright until I noticed blood dripping from under his tail. I lost it. I just knew he had internal injuries. The vet came to the truck to examine him and she carefully felt his hips, belly and then lifted his tail. I had to look away, because I was sure I would see intestines or something. Beth, our vet, said "Jo he's going to be fine. You just gave him one hell of a road rash on his butt.". To my relief, his xrays showed no breaks or internal bleeding. So we figured he must have tried to get up when I started backing up and his poor little butt was dragged for six feet in gravel. I still don't know how I didn't see him behind the car when I looked, but figure he must have been under the back of the car. He sure doesn't lay under cars now. He's old, but not dumb.
I guess at this point we will continue to love and care for him. When his time comes I hope he knows that as our first child he was very loved.

Its Fire Season

I was out working in the yard today enjoying the cooler morning temperature when all the sudden I smelled smoke. Now we live in a wooded area, so this is not a smell you want invading your nostrils. When I looked out I realized everything had an orange glow. I could no longer see the blue sky nor the mountain behind our house. After a few frantic phone calls, I found that the smoke was coming from fires about 90 miles away.



I hate this time of year. When the fire danger gets extreme the state puts restrictions on campfires, off road vehicles, smoking and such. I gladly abide by these rules because I love this land. But then you get the guy like I followed the other day, happily flicking his ashes from his cigarette out his window. I took down his license plate number just in case a fire was started. People just don't think.
Mother nature hasn't been too kind either. We have had several storms pass through, but just lightning and no rain. One thing I love about living where we do is that any given time you can step outside and take a deep breath of fresh mountain air. Now I find I step outside regularly to smell for that dreaded sign that disaster is coming.

Somebody Slap Me

I absolutely love doing home improvement and decorating projects. Hubster on the other hand does not share my enthusiasm. So I taught myself how to work with tools. I have even built a 5 foot kitchen cabinet, with 4 drawers that I was quite proud of doing. This January we moved into a new house and I love it. But of course I've had to make it mine. So I've painted the livingroom and my oldest sons bedroom. My next project is the bathroom. When I first saw the house I wasn't quite sure what to think of the bathroom. The lady who once lived here was into roses. Rose wall paper border, curtains covered in roses, even shelf liner with roses. Gah! I am not a flowery girl by any means. Put it this way, I'm getting impatient with Hubster to get his deer head bleached and mounted. Enough said. So the bathroom. She went all out with the flowers. Here, see..

This is mainly the boys bathroom, so I didn't think the flowers quite fit. This may sound stupid, but I haven't changed the decor because everyone who sees the bathroom absolutely loves the wallpaper. Heh? Now I definitely do things for me and my family only, but it got me to wondering. What was I not seeing in this wallpaper? I know people weren't just saying it, because when I tell people I'm removing it, they gasp "NO! How could you? Its beautiful!" Even men have stated its kinda cool.
So what do I do? Yup, I buy wallpaper stripper and I get started.

What the hell was I thinking? I have never loathed something as much as I HATE this wallpaper! I would rather go strolling in the grocery store naked! Okay maybe not.... Anyway you get the idea. If I were to run into the sweet little rose loving granny who lived here before me, well I...I'd make her stroll through the grocery store naked! Yeah! Strip that granny!
So I have one wall complete. I excitedly called the boys in to see what I was doing to their bathroom. Dean ran the other way thinking mean old mama was going to make him sit on the dreaded potty chair for poopy time again. Steven, my boy, Steven...looked at the wall.
Steven "Mom where are the flowers?"
Me "I'm taking the wall paper down and I'm going to paint your bathroom a really cool shade of green."
Steven (lip quivers)
Me "what's wrong honey?"
Steven "I love the flowers!"

Gah!

I Need to Grow Younger

I came upon a link for a real age test while browsing. What the heck, I've got a few minutes before the boys wake up. When I began the test I was feeling pretty good. After I got the results...well...not so good. The test revealed my real age as 52.7 years old. I'm 40. That sucks. It especially sucks since I'm a 40 yr old mother to a 3 and 5 yr old. For the last year or so, its been in the back of mind that I need to start taking care of myself better. You know exercise, lose the poundage, quit smoking, all the "I should be doing" things. While I was taking the test I was proudly checking the no boxes for diseases and symptoms thinking I'm in pretty good health. Pretty good health for someone who smokes, needs to lose 50 lbs. and doesn't take time to exercise. I think my bubble has burst.
The sad thing is that for most of my life I've desired to be a different person than I am. Maybe not different person, I like me. I know! I want a different lifestyle! Exercise, make healthy meals for the family and be smoke free. So I guess if I'm going to grow younger I need to be less lazy. Heh, makes me tired just thinking about it.
Well I think I'll take this 52 year old, oh excuse me, 52.7 yr old body and make a plan of attack. Wish me well!

Purple Fingers

Its that time again! The huckleberries are in season!


The hubster and I took the boys for their first huckleberry harvest. I've never been the bravest girl when it comes to traipsing around in the wilderness. The Hubster works in the woods, so he is totally at ease scaling up steep embankments and the sounds of the forest don't make the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. I on the other hand am afraid of heights and being a bear snack. Every year I hope we'll find a nice patch along the road. But no....the great woodsman drives by these gentle, sunny slopes and pulls off the road by the steepest, gnarliest, brushy cliffs. Now you may wonder why I don't insist we stop at the gentle slopes...well because everybody and their dog have already & have stripped the bushes bare. So I tighten the laces on my hiking boots, spray from head to toe with bug repellent, do the same for the boys and take a deep breath. I always dread the climb, but you hope the trees and rocks you're death gripping will hold so you can haul your fat ass up the hill to those juicy berries awaiting. Its pretty embarrassing when your 3 year old holds his hand out to help. But once you reach the summit, glad you didn't shit yourself, you proudly stand, turn to the mountain you just conquered and realize it was only 5 feet you scaled. Fuh! Okay so now onto the elusive purple berry. It is your goal to find a patch of berries where as you can sit your ass down in the middle and pick a bucket full. So I find my spot, settle in for some picking, take a breath of fresh mountain air, and listen to the squirrels chatter, birds sing. Ahh! Joy! And then you catch a strange odor....what is that...sniff...bear? Then the ears go on hyper drive...twig snap...oh shit...bushes rustling....you can hear your heartbeat....snort...shit was that a snort...what the..? This is the point I become chatty cathy figuring if I talk REALLY LOUD THE BEARS WILL KNOW I'M THERE AND GO TO ANOTHER PATCH. Now Hubster and kids are oblivious and are bounding from bush to bush, popping juicy berry after juicy berry into their mouths relishing the family outing. So I keep talking but after awhile you can only think of so much to say. About the 15th time I ask husband how many berries he has within 10 minutes, he answers annoyed, "About the same dear!" Okay so now what...ooh cough! Coughs will scare bears away! So eh eh cough! Cough! Cough! Then twig snap. Cough! COUGH!! Leaves rustle. Then the thought pops into my head that maybe my coughing sounds like a bruin mating call. Everyone else is having a grand old time with purple fingers, lips, tongue, not a care in the world. Light bulb! Pick really fast and you can get the hell out of the All the Bear Can Eat Buffet. So now I become militant mom. "Quit eating so many berries and fill those buckets NOW!" "Hey quit having fun and pick boy! Thankfully the moment comes when you hear, "Mom I'm cold." Yes!! Perfect. We better go, can't have the boys get chilled. So back to the truck we head. I'm feeling calmer, blood flow is slowing down..phew! Then we get to the 5 foot embankment previously scaled that now has risen to 40 feet. The Hubster and boys start down and look like bunny hill skiers..swoosh..swoosh..Wheeee! Me. I sit on my ass and slide. Brilliant heh? Not. Theres rocks in them there banks. Once down at the bottom, I brush the dust and fir needles off and hop merrily into the truck. As we're heading down the mountain, the boys are slowly drifting off to sleep, the Hubster looks handsome with orangish glow from the sunset shining upon his face. I look out at the passing scenery, miles upon miles of trees, cute little bunnies hopping across the road, and I take one last deep breath of fresh mountain air. I reach over and grab Hubsters hand and say, "I can hardly wait until next year to do this again."

Life without Brubber

Dean calls Steven brother except it comes out Brubber. This is how nicknames begin. Though I don't think Steven will want to be called Brubber for much longer once he starts school. When Dean was born, Hubster called his brother to tell him we had another boy and told him we named him Dean. Well bil misunderstood and thought we had named him Bean. And although he thought this was a strange name to give a child proceeded to call friends and family to help pass the good news of Bean's birth. Dean gets called Bean quite often. So we have Bean and Brubber. Two brothers who spend every waking hour together. They play, they fight, they conspire, they build, they fight, they kiss each others boo-boos, and oh..they fight. But in a month, these days will change. Brubber will be having new adventures, with new friends. I'm looking forward to my one on one time with Dean. But I'm afraid little Dean will be quite lost once Brubber starts school. It makes me teary eyed now to think about it. Maybe I'm wrong and Dean will relish his own time to build or play what he wants without Steven's leading ways. It could be my deep desire that these two boys of mine will always have an unbreakable bond and I don't want it weakened by 8 hours of separation and new friends. Gah! Parenting hurts sometimes! I also know I want my boys to grow to be confident individuals, so maybe the steps have begun and I better follow in stride.

It'll Be Okay

In less than a month, my 5 yr. old Steven will be starting Kindergarten. Steven is so excited and ready to go...myself not so ready. I feel like this is the point when my little boy will cease to be mine and mine alone. I'm afraid the hugs and kisses given so freely now won't be so cool anymore. Maybe its just that I'm afraid Mom won't be needed as much. Thats a hard pill to swallow. But swallow I will and smile as it slowly goes down. A couple of years ago, the school district decided to have Kindergarten classes go full days, five days a week. There is an option for partial days, but Steven is an intelligent, social, busy boy who will thrive on the full days. Many of the kids in the past years have come out of kindergarten reading. I am so excited for Steven to start reading. I sit and read to the boys quite often. Currently we are reading the Little House on The Praire book series. I lived and breathed LHOP when I was little, hell I even wanted to change my name to Laura when I was in the 4th grade. I gave up after a week of haughtily reminding teachers, friends, and family, "My name is Laura!!" Just wasn't worth the hassle. Lately Steven has been sitting down with Dean and reading to him. It makes me laugh since Dean being the 3yr. old he is, he doesn't exactly sit still and listen.
School will be good for Steven to get around kids his own age. The Hubster and I are constantly having to remind him he is a child not an equal. Of course Hubster and I sometimes disagree on appropriate activities for a 5 yr. old. We are a big snowmobile freaks, so naturally the boys have been on them since they could sit up on their own. They have their own helmets and gear. The other day, Steven comes in all excited and asks me for his helmet. Sometimes Steven will wear his helmet on his bicycle and tries out his latest constructed jumps which usually consists of maybe a 3" jump. So I give him his helmet and went back to making dinner. Suddenly I hear a motor....what the hell....and when I look out I see this.

Now had I known exactly what was going on I would have insisted on long pants and shirt. He did great and was a very excited & proud little boy. I can tell you I was a very relieved Mom when that mini bike was loaded back into our friends truck and taken back to his home. My heart isn't ready.

First Date Jitters

Darn if I don't feel like I'm going on a first date with the football captain. Does my butt look good in these jeans? Is my breath okay? Underarm wetness? Well I'm going to jump in and if this "date" goes well it could turn out to be a long lasting relationship.
My main reason for starting this blog is for my boys. Everyday something is said or done by these two goofballs and I tell myself to remember it and write in their scrap books. Well life happens and my memory sucks. My life will undoubtedly slip in as, yes I am a mom with a life. I hope as this blog goes on I'll be able to watch myself grow as well as the boys. At this time I'm not sure how open I'll be with my writing. I read a lot of online journals and sometimes I'm in awe of how much people reveal to the world. In my own little realm I try to keep my thoughts to myself and not reveal tidbits to people that may come back and "tidbit" me in the ass. Basically I have trust issues.

So here I am.