Kidnapped

Hello! Hi! Happy New Year! Oh my goodness, I've MISSED you guys! I think I've mentioned that my darling baby is a demon. Cutest demon ever..but oh my! She took the cake on Christmas day when she poured an entire cup of coffee on my keyboard.
Before I had a chance to deal with that, my parents and sister had conspired to force a vacation on me. A vacation that included no Internet, cell phones, or cable tv.

They thought they were helping. Little did they know, I was having withdrawals from you guys super bad!

Despite that, I had a wonderful time. New Years Eve was spent around a campfire listening to my brother-in-law play the guitar while all us 'redneck' folks sang drunkenly to Johnny Cash, Merle Haggard, and all the old greats. My parents have the baby out at the River, and she's spending her days being spoiled rotten by her Pawpaw.

I just got back home and have no children, dogs, or any other being here with me to distract me from getting some things done that can't wait. But, first...I have to catch up with all of you! I hope everyone had an amazing Christmas morning, and a wonderful New Years celebration. I'll write more on our great times later!

I'm a good 'lil worker bee!

I've been so dadgum busy....I've built two websites in the past 4 days.
Oh. My. Freakin'. Eyes.

We finally got home tonight about an hour and a half ago, and I suddenly realized I hadn't posted anything in days. I thought about it...many times. Just couldn't stop tweaking and tuning long enough to get 'er done, if ya know what I mean.

Tomorrow I will (I will! I WiLL!) post pictures and a long lovely blog about my happenings at the folks. Some of it funny, some sad, some downright disgusting. You'll want to eat before you stop by. Unless you're a Mom. Then, you've seen worse.

For now, please enjoy our version of "Redneck River-Rafting" (If you can't tell, we tied a rope around him to pull the girls on their 'boat' and he's standing...not swimming. The dam was open so the water was quite shallow!)

Wait!! Don't go yet!!!! Check this out first, and remember...it's a work in progress, so be nice!
(I've still got to add pictures that I couldn't access from my Mom's house, and change pretty much all of it. My biggest fear was the publishing part as that's the part my old partner used to do. The design is my forte, and now that I've gotten past my fear, I can focus on that) The other website is still waiting on the host...serves me right for not using the same for both....

Nectar for the soul.....

Twenty-Nine

Want that cake. No. I need that cake. Could it possibly taste as wonderful as it looks?
Ahhh...another form of art for me to obsess over. Wonder if I could make that in my kitchen.

I'm at my parent's house. We're safely ensconced in the little bedroom that I've claimed as mine, with my Beena sleeping so peacefully next to me. She doesn't know it, but she's been kissed about a gazillion times since she fell asleep. She's so beautiful.

It's been a crazy day. Between dog fights, lost keys, and an insane amount of coffee...I'm exhausted. My birthday gift from my Mom was a bag with plates, napkins, balloons, streamers, and all the other fun stuff so that I can "throw myself a party." Hey. Don't judge. She asked for (and received) rocks for her birthday. I'm lucky she didn't give me a glass jar full of dirt and tell me to save it for my Great-Grandchildren. (now there's a get rich-later scheme. Collect dirt. Someday, that stuff'll cost more than fuel!)

My brother and I almost immediately got into a heated debate over the election. That lasted right up to the point that I thought he was going to have an aneurysm. Good Times, I tell ya. Good Times.

My parents house isn't very big. My bedroom is caddy-corner to my brothers room and off the hall from the living room. I can hear my Dad watching his Western (Loud! When will someone convince him that he needs hearing aids???) And, my brother listening to music on his computer in his bedroom. My Mom's asleep (because it's late, and she's been up with babies all day) and I feel wonderful. I miss Turkey's #1 & #2...but I know how happy they are with their Dad.

So, here we go. Day 1 of 7. Get ready to be bombarded by everything log homes. Tomorrow, I'm making my Mom take me to the office to check out the computer systems there. I need to know what kind of memory I'm working with and what kinds of changes are going to have to be made before I can sit down and write out a detailed plan of what I'll need to accomplish this week.
I may not have time to write much, but I promise to keep up as best I can. This week will be the hardest. We have to figure out exactly how much work I can do from home and how much time I'll actually have to spend here in Oklahoma.
For the Turkey's...I'm hoping for a 10 to 12 day period once a month. Just me though? 24 days per month oughta cut it. Maybe a few more...

I LOVE MY MOMMY!

Torture

OK. Give. Her. Back.
It's been 3 days. I need my baby. I'm not cool with this anymore. I know she's having a great time chasing turtle's (Tuk? Where go Tuk?), and splashing in the River with her Pawpaw and bestfrienemy. But, uh...please?
It's waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too quiet out here. There isn't anyone demanding to watch Diego on the computer even though there's a perfectly good 42" television in the next room. There's no one to remind me 467 times a day that the "boobus" is coming to bring "Bubba."
No-one asking for food then throwing a temper tantrum when I make her eat. No-one slathering herself with make-up products then washing herself off with my favorite silk shirt. No-one to put each morsel of dog food into the water bowl so it's softened enough to eat.
The worst part? No kisses, no hugs, nobody climbing into the chair behind me and tickling me on the neck. No-one sneaking into my bed in the middle of the night and forcing me to cuddle with her dirty, stinky, dirt-trodden woobie.

*Sigh*

How many more days 'till this torture is over?

Steppin' Up

My folks are in the log cabin business. My Mother & Grandfather run the sales and building side of things and my Father does the restoration. (Please excuse all the shameless link plugging...but I want you to love log homes as much as we do, and subsequently purchase one of the beauty's and help fund my children's college educations fall in love every time you pull into your drive.)
Anyway, back to my original thought...um, what the heck was my original thought? Oh yea, Log Homes and How They're Changing My Life.

My brother and I are both going to work for my parents off & on for a while. He's gone ahead out to Oklahoma with our baby daughters while I get things sorted out here. I'll be headed back to the river on Friday (if all goes as planned), and the older Turkeys will stay here with their Dad and StepMom-ish. Yes. Here. In my home. My sanctuary. The place where no one can hurt me or give me grief. And, I've invited the enemy to sleep in my bed (ew. ew. ew. ew.) and gave them the responsibility of getting my children to school. Making sure they have their homework before they leave in the morning. Brushing their teeth!!!
One of the reasons the judge gave me custody in the odd situation we were in, was because Turkey #1 almost failed Kindergarten. (Texas doesn't require K, so we were able to sneak past the system. Because it wasn't her fault.)
She was absent or tardy more than 65 days of the school year. And by tardy, we're talking 10 or 11 in the morning. I'm sorry, but no 5 year old should be responsible for getting herself up, fed, dressed, ready & off to school without an adults help.
(I was working at a law firm with very demanding hours. Lived in a crappy area. His parents have loot and live in an exclusive neighborhood with an amazing school, so the kids stayed with him during the week)
I've had custody since then, and both kids are doing fabulous in school. (I'll brag on that in another post.)
I believe, cause I can be an optimist, that they've grown up and know better. That they'll be able to wake up long enough to get done, the things that need to be done. Then go back to sleep till the Turkeys get home from school.
We're going to try it for a week. I don't know if or how it's going to work out, but I'm preparing myself by knowing that this is a hell of a lot better than hiring some random person to care for the lives of two of my favorite people.
I know that the kids will be safe and taken care of. I know that they won't be ignored, or abused. If that means I have to let them stay in my house, use my bathroom, be together *ugh* in my bed (then burn the sheets and sanitize the mattress) and all that, then so dang be it.
But let me warn you now. If that hootchie Mama so much as scratches any of my cookery, I promise, it will be all out WAR.

My Mom wants me to be there, and that's the biggest reason I want to go. After all that this year has brought, I can be so grateful that it's brought me (literally) closer to my Mom. Instead of emails talking about our lives, we're getting to live them together. I know my parents want me to move to Oklahoma. They've both all but begged for it. They want this company to thrive because the name Heritage means more than just a brand. (I know this also sounds like shameless plugging, but it is the honest to God truth) The homes, and the company that my family is involved in are meant to be passed down from generation to generation. My parents want to be retired. They would love nothing more than to see my brother and I run the restoration side of the company. My Dad would love nothing more than to spend his days with his baby Granddaughters down by the river chasing turtles, and counting fish.
But, my kids have been in so many different schools already. Leaving Sergio, the military...that was all supposed to bring a stop to things. I promised to settle them, and I can't break a promise to my children. I have to stick it out here for a while.

Ugh. I hate being conflicted. It would be so easy to just go to my parents. Let my Mom take care of me for a while. Take a break. Enjoy the peace and quiet. Rake in the dough, and stash most of it away...

Sorry for the off topic, random, back & forth post tonight. My brain is on overload....

Waltzing LaVonne

My Mother finally posted the video of her friends & family singing the song they'd written in celebration of her 50th birthday. Now, I'm passing it on to you for your viewing pleasure....Or pain. Ummm.. Well, Enjoy!

waltzing LaVonne


"Waltzing LaVonne"

Waltzing LaVonne
Waltzing LaVonne
Who'll go with this 'ole gal LaVonne
As she picks up rocks & put's 'em in a box
Who'll go waltzing with LaVonne
Waltzing LaVonne
Waltzing LaVonne
Who'll watch the sled dogs with LaVonne
As we stand on a block of ice, cheering the puppies on
Will Rich waltz with LaVonne?
Waltzing LaVonne
Waltzing LaVonne
Ain't it nifty, she's turnin' Fifty
You'l hear the woe's about her big toes
Who'll be limping to LaVonne

Now, a little background since you've seen the video in all it's glory.
My Mom loves/adores/worships the Iditarod. Her 50th birthday gift to herself (and a special cousin & sister) was a trip to Alaska to see the beginning of the race. This was after a cruise she went on several years ago, where she fell in love with the dogs to begin with. Someday, my Mommy's going to move to Alaska and abandon her family. But, she can't get rid of me as easily as she thinks! I'll be hot on her trail!
She also loves rocks. I believe I've mentioned that. And the toe thing? Not sure. And Rich? No damn clue who that could be!!! My family's a bit on the weird side. The ballgowns were because they were having a "Birthday Ball" and someone brought a bag of (bouncy) balls as gift. Most everyone else gave her rocks. Save for one Aunt who gave her football themed grilling accoutrement's. Excuse me for a moment, my head is spinning.
OK, I'm sorry. And, I'm sorry that I've subjected you to the oddity's that make up my family. Please forgive me. And family? If you're reading this? Well, you should stop now before you cast me unto the hellfire and disown me as your loved one.

Starlight, Starbright....

First Star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might, make a wish upon you tonight.

The night my littlest baby was born was bittersweet. I was finally holding the little Turkey who'd been kicking me for months, and forced me to bed rest weeks before she made her squalling appearance. Of course I was happy, thrilled, and madly in love. But, I was also tired and achy, grouchy & sad. My family had all visited and left at my request...I wanted to be alone with my newest Angel.That day, I'd spent hours before, during, and after the labor & delivery with a cell phone plastered to my ear, talking to my husband in Baquabah, Iraq. His Commander's had given him the day off and he'd spent his day in a tiny cubby hole not nearly big enough for his 6'4" frame.
My Mom kept the video camera running right up until the last moment (due to some strange new rules regarding video taping in the birthing room) and Sergio stayed on the phone the entire time.
I still don't know why, but I was afraid for him to hear me make a sound. I didn't want him to think I was in pain. Though~ duh. He told me later that it made him unsure of what was going on. All he heard were the Dr and nurses telling me I was doing great and "PUSH". After she was born and being weighed the Dr. chimed in to Sergio, "I'm Proud of you Daddy! You didn't even Faint!" with her light southern accent, and sweet little voice.
After that things went blurry. There were people in and out of my room, Flowers everywhere. Sergio had sent 2 huge bouquets himself, and my mother (always aware of peoples feelings) cheated and had a bouquet sent "from Daddy" (just in case he wasn't able to get a florist) along with the flowers & fruit from her and my Father. All up and down the halls were doors with baby wreaths on them. Beautiful creations of ribbon, and plastic booties & pacifiers. My door boasted an Army poster of a Blackhawk & the saying, "An Army of One."
It wasn't what I would have ever wished for. And, oh, how I feel for women who are going through the same thing. But, it was beautiful. I bonded with my baby even more because I wanted to savor each and every tiny moment of her life. I knew that my phone would ring (usually around 4 am, and right after I'd just nursed her back to sleep) and I would get to relate each burp, funny face, and goofy noise to someone who was just as obsessed with the news as I was. I appreciated holding her close to me, and the smell of her hair even more because I wanted to be able to describe it to him in perfect detail.
My baby is 2 now. Into everything. And dangerous. Scary dangerous. But, I'll never forget the deep, raw love I had for her in those first few months. Where just looking at her could send my heart pitter-pattering and I would be overcome with a fervent desire to hold her little body close to mine and breathe in deep, the scent of my child. Where being away from her for even an hour was an intrusion of epic proportions, and I refused at any cost.
There's nothing like the first few weeks of falling in love with your newborn child. Getting to know them in a way that you'll be able to build on for the rest of your lives. Pretty soon, the love you feel stops making you tear up with a flood of emotion and grows into the confidant, relaxed, easy love of a Mother & Child.
I hope, when my children are old enough to have their own children that I'll remember to pass along the best piece of advice I was given, "Savor Every Moment."




Thanks for giving me the idea for this post, and if you enjoy creative writing, be sure and check this out before the contest ends! What a fun way to celebrate becoming a new Mom (again!) I had a lot of fun digging deep into the memory banks and remembering the feelings from those first few weeks. Made me go smother my baby Turkey with Sloppy Kisses!
Congratulations to those expecting!!

Happy 50th Mama!

We're back and I'll post more pictures (with promised video!) as soon as my Mother emails them to me....if she has the nerve to email them to me.

We had a wonderful time! Homemade peach ice-cream, family, and the river. I'm finally relaxed.
My Mom wasn't as surprised as everyone wanted her to be, but she was thrilled with the way it turned out.

It says a lot about a person when so many people you've known your whole life will come together to celebrate your 50th birthday. And, go to such lengths to make it a wonderful and joyful experience for you. My Mom is blessed, but more than that..she is an extraordinary woman. She has faced adversary's that we never think of. And came through the other side with an outlook on life as positive as if she'd never been there.

I'm proud of my Mom. I consider her one of my best friends, and certainly the one person who I can go to for anything and know that the advice I'm given is tried & true. Or she won't give any.

All I can say is, my Mom rocks. And guess what she got for her birthday? Guess..No, I don't want to tell you. You have to guess.
Fine crybaby, I'll tell you. She got rocks. Yep. Are you jealous? You should be. The rocks were her favorite part. Really. They were. She's not senile. She just likes rocks. What?

I love you Mom!!!

Retreat to the River

The Turkeys and I are packed and ready to go to my parent's house for the weekend. My Mother's 50th birthday is looming, and her parents & assorted siblings & cousins have planned a surprise party for her tomorrow morning.
She knows though. Betcha money she knows. They all do this for each others 50th. And, hello, my brother and I are driving in together tonight for an impromtu visit. She's gonna know the second she hears us pull up the drive...
I'm totally stoked! It really is wonderful to live close enough to my parents that a weekend visit isn't a 4 month long planning process! (I knew there were redeeming qualities to DF-Dub!)

On another note, Hurricane Ike is being a rat bastard about wanting to eat him some levees. I think I'll be safer on the Illinois River in Oklahoma than I will be in my little house scared and alone with a buncha' squawbling turkeys.

I shall be back with pictures of several 50 (& younger & older) year young women dressed in ball gowns having a food fight....or some variation thereof. If you're really good this weekend, I may even post video of them singing their (horrid) rendition of "Happy Birthday"

(The photo above was taken at my parents Independence Day party. The river is their front yard....and it's a beautiful oasis to go to when you've had a week as traumatizing as we've had 'round here)

Coffee & Mountains with Papa

My Daddy just left from a (too, too short) 3 day visit. It was special to me because my Dad doesn't travel a whole lot. He goes to Padre Island when he wants a break, and rarely does anything else.

I guess I'm growing up, because my parents aren't really 'parents' anymore. They're my friends. The oldest, and best friends I have and I cherish every moment we get to spend together because they're too few and far between. My Dad's getting older, and he's not in the greatest of health. You know you aren't supposed to think about those things, but you do. You really can't help it when you see your Father opening 6-7 different bottles of pills every morning, to take with his coffee. It puts things into perspective. We discussed what should happen to my Grandmother, who's health/sanity is horrible but she refuses to move from her house. We talked about my Mother's parents, who aren't doing well right now. We talked about MY parent's impending move to AK, and the financial straights that's put them in... When did things like this become my business? Or rather...when did my opinion begin to count? And, do I really want my opinion to count? I'm not really sure I'm ready for this side of adulthood. Yet, there I was. Sitting on my back porch, drinking coffee and looking at Cheyenne Mtn with my Daddy...discussing the darker side of family life that was concealed from me until I was old enough to have a valid opinion of 'what should be done'.

I'm grateful for this visit. I'm so glad that I'll have the memories of taking my Dad through Garden of the Gods, and Helen Hunt Falls, and especially our drive to the summit of Pikes Peak. I see those things all the time, and the list of people that I can associate with my landmarks is growing, but I was able to add my Daddy to that list. I have to say, for now. That's my highlight. He'll always be able to say that the first time Corrina ever went to the summit, was with her Pawpaw. She wont remember, but you can bet that picture will be framed for her to keep forever.


P.S. This was an old post from another blog ~ Before life went crazy and I moved back to DF-Dub