FatCat Patterns

 Jon and I had gone over to my parents home for dinner, (Marshall was still in high school) after dinner we all sat around and watched one of those awful Freddy movies. Around 2 am the telephone wakes me up. When I answer it I hear Marshall gasping and wheezing on the other end. Snickering, snorting, trying to catch his breath. Here is the story that finally unfolded.....All were asleep. Momma woke up like so many of us gals have to do, and headed to the bathroom. She didn't want to wake up Steve so she left the light off. Tip toed into the bathroom...still in total darkness...started to sit on the throne...Marshall is awaken by the sound of what he believes is murder. He bolts out of bed and begins turning on all the lights (if Freddy has come for him he wants to see it) Runs into Mom and Steve's room as that is where all the noise is coming from, flips on the light...And finds them both still screaming ( in quite a state of disarray) trying to get out of the bathroom door at the same time. The rest of the story goes like this. Steve had woken up first. Had also not wanted to wake up Momma, so did not turn on any lights. Steve how ever :-) had fallen asleep on the potty!! Momma had sat right down on top of him :-) Scared the crap out of both of them ;-D Momma...for finding some one already there. Steve for being so rudely awaken. Marshall just couldn't stand it. That was the best prank yet...and they had done it all to themselves!! Something that good couldn't possibly wait until morning, so he called me :-)

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 Not too awfully long ago, my brother flew our Mother down for Easter. It was a wonderful family gathering. Good company, great food, nice sunny day, all the family in attendance. Uncle Marshall was showing off his new home, giving us all the grand tour. Such a neat backyard! My boys were prowling around in the shrubbery when the oldest let out a holler. Throwing his arms out, he shouts,

 "Everybody Stop!! I see a lizard!"

He sneaks up ever so softly, giving us a play by play.

“I can see it good... it's not moving... it's a Big Brown Lizard!"

 He is very excited now, and the whole world stands still as he leans forward, preparing for the capture. He crouches, SPRINGS and makes a grab for the lizard!! Then FALLS to the ground in a heap! Gasping for air,

"It squished!! I think it's...Oh My Gosh!!! IT'S DOG POOP!"

 All of the adults are now snickering and snorting, Grandma even wets her pants. Some things you can never live down :-)

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What a day!! I am so sun burned I can hardy type. We took the kids out to the beach today. We stopped first for lunch. Gasp...they don't serve Dr Pepper here!! Jon ended up getting the biggest iced tea I have ever seen. So we find our perfect spot in the sand, I spread out the towel and make myself at home and the kids head for the water. Jon discovers he drank too much tea :-) and has to hike it back to the parking lot. Jamie buried me in sand. Stevie and Johnny found sand dollars. We had a blast. After about 3 hours of non stop fun it was time to head back to the house, so we make the hike back to the van...with Mom lugging most of the shoes, towels, sand toys ect. Jon and I are stowing junk in the back, when Stevie asks if he can have the water. Now I had packed up a couple bottles of water just for them so I said "Yes of course you can." I get into the front seat with out even looking at the boys, but can hear them in the very back fighting over who gets first drink. Jon opens the side door and is rummaging around for something. Stevie hands the drink to Johnny; Johnny takes a drink and says, "What is this stuff? It tastes awful!" Keep in mind now that I still haven't looked over my shoulder at them. Jon says, "Here, Give me That!" I am thinking he was just breaking up a fight. He climbs into the front seat and has this horrified look on his face, in his hands is that humongous McDonalds cup. Kids are still goofing and rough housing in the back seat. I said what gives? Jon leans over and whispers...whisper mind you...I couldn't find a bathroom...and peed in that cup!!! Now we all know how kids’ hearing is. First it was dead silent...you could have heard a pin drop...then all hell broke loose. Both boys tumbled out of the door gasping spitting and sputtering. Stevie was throwing up and Johnny was screaming and crying. "URINE!!! URINE!!! I DRANK DAD'S URINE!!" Stevie is drooling now, wanting to know if he is going to die. Johnny is shaking his fists asking Jon, "How could you! This is the worst day of my life... I have your urine rolling around in me! Why did you leave that in the car? I need to puke! Oh Lord help me please let me puke." Stevie decides he will hurl once more for good measure, (being a barf-o-matic comes in handy at times) and staggers to the car. Johnny is still having hysterics beside the van...we are now beginning to draw a crowd. What am I doing? Well it is a good thing I was sitting on a towel...because I was laughing so hard I wet my pants!! You can just imagine the ride back to the house. We had to pull over twice for Stevie to get out and puke. Johnny finally began to calm down, and we began to talk it over. New family rule...if you pee in a cup you MUST pour it out and not leave it sitting...because some yokel might come along and drink just anything they find. Then we tried to decide who owed Johnny the bigger apology. Jon for not dumping it out...or Stevie, who took a drink, knew it was something nasty...and passed it on to his brother with out saying a word? I decided they were just all three Nasty. Then just as it gets settled down, Jamie asks..."Mommy, what's YARN?" That set it all off again. The boys gladly explained it was pee...Jamie turns white, (or rather a paler pink because she is burned too) and just keeps repeating EEWWW over and over to herself :-) And here I was thinking this vacation was going so smoothly

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Two weeks ago we had taken our family and another family down to our "River". Jon had brought along the last of the fireworks from the fourth. Kids joyfully set these off all weekend. When it was time to pack up I made the announcement that NO fireworks were returning home. So destroy the ones that were left and let’s get going. Bright thinking kids decided to stash their booty. A string of 400 black cats were placed into the fire pit. Then the ashes were scraped over them so no adult would find the evidence. Pretty deep thinking for the 8-10 age group. So last night I get a phone call from Uncle Marshall, on his cell phone :-) It seems he and some of his buddies decided to go to the River for the weekend. As it got a little chilly, this group decided to light a
fire. Yes, I can tell you know where this is going. They were fishing on the barge when the fire burned down low enough to ignite the black cats hidden there. Uncle Scott said they believed they were coming under sniper attack :-)
 Don't you know that was a sight to behold! All those big brave guys hitting the deck and scrambling off the barge!!  ;-D

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At the beginning of Summer break I gathered the kids and told them they were
each going to be in charge of their own laundry. And that they would each
have 1 day of the week that was designated as "their" washing day. Jamie Lee
did just fine with this. The boys were not so good. What finally broke the
camel's back and sent me scurrying back to doing their wash was this, I was
laying on the couch trying to nap. Stevie yells for Johnny to come help him
a sec. They meet up in the living room. Johnny looks at me and asks "She
asleep?" Stevie, "Yep, Here sniff this for me." "No way! I don't owe you any
courtesy sniffs!" "Yes you do! I sniffed your blue shorts for you Monday."
"Dammit. Okay" "Oh Gawd dude, that's pretty rank. You better go hit it with
the Fabreeze." "Mom used the last of the Fabreeze on the sofas." "Bummer,
sucks to be you." "Yeah, guess I will have to wash them after all, I wanted
to see if I could go the whole summer." "Do you think she is going to figure
out we have been cheating?"

And here I had thought I was going out of my mind. Every time I went to the
store I had Fabreeze on my shopping list. When I would say, didn't I just
buy some? Those turkeys would say, No Mom, you must have forgotten.

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At Halloween my Friend showed me how to bake the left over pumpkin seeds. Jamie Lee loved them!! I had  sprained my wrist (pushing too many children in a shopping cart at once) and needed something for the pain. So here are all three kids and I tucked into this tiny doctors office. They are trying so very hard to be good. We had gotten there between shifts and the staff
was just a tad frazzled. The nurse comes in to get my info and now there are 5 of us in an area about 6x8. All of a sudden there is a conversation stopping, knock you dead smell. Jamie Lee pops up and cranes her head around to look at her butt, spinning in circles, and sniffing like one of the dogs.

She says..."I Farted and it smells like Punkin Seeds!!"

The boys of course play right into this...gagging and retching...begging, "Mom please let us outta here!"

 The nurse stays deadpan, frowns and keeps talking. It was so bad my eyes were watering and I was holding my breath. So I go home and immediately call  my friend, she thinks it is so very funny! Next day Jamie stays at Friend’s house while I run errands. What does she do...why of course give the child more Punkin Seeds!! The next day Friend  and I are taking the two little kids to lunch. All of a sudden she starts sniffing and gagging, turns to me and says

"What is that smell??"

 It hadn't made its way to my side of the car...but Jamie pops up "It's punkin seeds farts!!"

 Now to make things even better, my windows were acting up and  wouldn't roll down...LOL. See it does come back around :-) So now when ever some one farts every one says "I smell Punkin Seeds!" So much better than shouting out "Hey! You farted!"

I mistakenly thought I would change brands of cat food...to entice the old guy to eat better. What I got was kitties with upset tummies. I then mistakenly changed back, rather abruptly I might add. So I have been dealing with nasty kitty box the last few days. Now, I buy kitty litter in big 20 lb square buckets with reusable lids. Wash them out and use them for everything. Neighbors beg for them, they are wonderful buckets! So I think...since I am "scooping" every couple of hours until the tummy upset is over...I will just dump (no pun intended) it into an empty bucket. I take a big green marker and write POOP on the lid and place it next to the litter box. Pretty self explanatory don't you think? Well there I am reading my email when Johnny comes in and sits on the bed...
"Mom, what's in the bucket that says POOP?"        "Poop"
"No Mom, what's really in the bucket that says POOP?"       "Poop"
" No Mom...really  what's in it?"       "Poop"
"Mooooommmm! What is in the bucket that says POOP?"    "Poop"
"Mom. I am serious here. WHAT is in the bucket that says POOP?" now I had had about enough of the 13 year old attitude so I answer..."Candy, for Halloween"
He jumps off the bed grinning and heads down the hall. "Stevie! I know where Mom hid the Halloween candy!" Then I can hear the two of them out in the sewing room.
Johnny - "Open it Stevie"
Stevie - " But it says...POOP!"
Johnny - "Come on Mom's just trying to trick us...open it."
Stevie - "No way man...you open it...it say's Poop" a pause...then yelling
"EWWEE...GROSS...HEAVEN HELP ME"
"URK...GASP...CHOKE"
"SHUT the LID! "I can't! I'm gonna SPEW"
"MOM!!! THAT WAS MEAN

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We had a wonderful family vacation. The entire clan got together at the Cabin for a weekend of relaxation. 10 adults, 7 children and 5dogs,all in 3 rooms. Fantastic if crowded quality time. Did I mention the septic tank was having problems? It was just a minor inconvenience. We still had the Outhouse to fall back on. Any BIG business would have to be done out there. Funny thing is, no one likes the outhouse. That might have something to do with the Mocking bird nesting in it, or maybe the spiders, or possibly even the earthy aroma. On about day 3 of our 7 day stint my baby sister (Robin) confided to her husband (Jim) and I that she was about to break down and venture out into the outhouse! Jim and I caught each others eye. There was no way we could let an opportunity like that pass us by. Robin went off to get he babies down for a nap. Jim and I started to scheme. We ran to the trunk of the car and grabbed smoke bombs, black cats and the camera. Then we waited…and waited. Robin had fallen asleep with the little poots. When she woke up the call of nature had passed. That was easily fixed by a very strong cup of coffee lovingly prepared by yours truly. Soon Robin was nervously on her way to the outhouse. Jim and I grabbed our stash and followed. He duck walked ( so as not to be seen through the cut out window) around to the front of the outhouse, reached up and locked the door from the outside. He scoots around back of it again and waits for the thumbs up. All the relatives are now in attendance ready for the show. Jim throws a handful of yellow smoke bombs under the back wall (we all know where they landed). Yellow smoke is now billowing through the cracks in the walls. A tiny voice from inside is squeaking “OH! OH! There’s SMOKE in here!” That was the signal for the black cats. POW!   BANG!   KABAM! There is a great thumping and banging from inside the outhouse, along with yells for help. Didn’t take Robin long at all to discover she was locked in. When the smoke and laughter finally settled down, there was Robin, waving her toilet paper flag of surrender out the window.

 

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It was Johnny's kindergarten year. We were at a PTA meeting which just so
happened to fall close to Mother's Day. After the meeting us parents were
asked to go to our children's classrooms for a special presentation. We are
instructed to sit at our child's desk. Things are going smoothly so far. I
haven't been asked to do bulletin boards, help tutor or chaperone field
trips. I am thinking cool.this meeting I have dodged the bullet :-) Johnny's
teacher gets up and tells us all how wonderful our little people are doing.
Everyone knows how to read and write now. Yippee! As a Mother's Day gift she
has had each student make a card, decorate it, and inside write what they
love best about their Mother. She is going to read them aloud then hand the
card to the Mom it belongs to. Aww, this sounds sweet doesn't it? And they
were. You can't get much sappier than a 5 year old explaining why they love
Momma. Then it happened. Everyone is quiet as she reads the last card. "What
I love best about my Mother.is that she will FART and blame it on ME." The
room erupts in laughter and I want to crawl under the desk as she hands me
my very first home made Mother's Day card.

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For some unknown reason Jon and I have always referred to the kids as
monkeys. How are the Monkeys? Where are the Monkeys? What did the Monkeys do
in school today? That kind of thing. Well one evening at dinner, I guess
they were about 4 and 5 at the time, they asked why we called them Monkey
Boys. Without any hesitation Jon says, because you were born with tails.
WHAT? We didn't have tails! Sure you did, waving his fork at me, ask your
Mother. MOM, did we have tails?! You know how in the cartoons you can have
an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other whispering to you? I am
ashamed to admit my devil won out. Yep you sure did, in fact we are still
making payments on the operations to have them removed. NO WAY! YOUR
FIBBING! Jon is desperately trying not to choke on his food while smothering
his laughter. I am not fibbing, here I will prove it. Stand up. Now run your
hand down your back all the way to your bottom, feel that nub? This would be
their tail bone of course. I thought their eyes were going to pop right out
of their little heads. They just couldn't decide if I was having them on or
not. It becomes a running joke. One set of Grandparents say, Of course you
didn't. The other set says, Strangest dang thing I ever say. Poor kids
didn't know who to believe.

The boys get older and pretty soon Jamie comes along. First day home and
they are dying to see me change her diaper so they can check for a tail!
Where is it? Oh, I'm sorry guys, it is a hereditary thing. Only the boys in
the family are born with tails.

Older still, now Johnny has his own computer and is allowed limited internet
access. What does he do? He does a search for "People with Tails". He runs
screaming in to his brother.IT's TRUE!

Over the years Jon and I have had many laughs over this. We still call them
Monkeys. And they still don't know if we are joking or not. I just giggle
and say, Guess you will find out when you have kids of your own :-)

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In the Spring of 1996 I was bitten by a neighborhood cat. This cat regularly came around to visit, but we had no idea where he lived. Normally he was a nice gentleman. The evening I was bitten was just a fluke. So...here I am bleeding from a nasty bite. Called the doctor, who gave us information on how to get he Rabies vaccine started. Jon and I had to go down to the county health office and sign for the vaccine as it is a controlled substance. We then transported it to our family doctor who called in all his staff to watch the show. It seems in all his years of practicing he had never had to deal with rabies. Now, on the bright side...you no longer get the shots in your belly region. Sadly for me though...the amount of shots you get are in direct proportion to your body weight :( Can you say Uh-Oh? I received 8 shots that first day. Then for the next month I had to go in once a week for a single shot. Nothing in my life has hurt so much. All my bones ached, it felt as if they were melting. We did manage to find the owners and home of the cat...the day after my last shot. Now...how can you find humor in all this? Well.... Stevie went to school and told everyone I had rabies and was dying. Lucky me, I got to go to school and talk to the kindergarten class about why you don't pet stray animals :) I was pretty miffed at the youngster for spreading lies. Jon and I are watching TV after the boys are in bed. The usual monkey business is going on. We can hear them giggling and goofing around instead of sleeping. Jon looks over to me and says...

"Bet ya wont go brush your teeth and get all foamy mouthed...then rush into the boy's room"

Now I can't say I wasn't tempted :)

This occurred on one of my visits to the doctor to get my rabies shot. We had spent a long time in the waiting room and Johnny had been reading a pamphlet about diabetes. Johnny was 7 and a very articulate child. He could read very very well. He also enjoyed talking to any adult he could corner :) So I am writing out my check and Johnny is talking to the nurse behind the counter. He says...I've been reading this, and shows the pamphlet. I am worried because I think I have some of these signs. Nurse says, oh really? Like what? Well...thirst. I am always needing to get out of bed at night for a drink, makes Momma mad sometimes. And frequent urination, I also have to get out of bed to go to the bathroom allot. Hunger...I am always hungry. Vaginal dryness...not exactly sure what that is, but I bet I have that too....

Now did I mention Johnny is a bit loud? Big Booming voice? The entire waiting room erupts into laughter. It was all I could do to hush the poor boy up and get him to the car so I could explain :) He was mortified. I laughed all the way home.

I have poor Jamie believing dust bunnies are alive! Now you have to know,
especially with no carpeting and animals...we have dust bunnies!!! When I
moved Jon's old desk out from the wall...I asked Jamie to get back out of
the way...it had only been, what, 2 years since it was moved out from the
wall? Among the mammoth dust bunnies was a dime. The sunlight form the
window landed on the mess...Jamie shrieked and ran down the hall screaming
"It winked at Me! Ahhhhhhhh! Daddy's Dust Bunny winked at me!!" I nearly wet
myself :-) So all day long when ever she got in the way all I had to do was
ask..."Was that it?" and look around like something ran past :-) LOL. She
slept with all 3 cats in her bed last night to keep her safe.

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Cold weather here. Didn't get all the nasty winter mix that the news was predicting, but our temps did dip into the 20's. Pulled out the heater Jon bought me last year and Stevie has it in the doorway between his room and the sewing room...kind of keeps us both toasty. Only trouble is he feels the cold more than I do...so he keeps cranking it up and I keep turning it down. Finally knocked the Bah Humbugs off long enough to go and buy a Christmas tree...even strung the lights on it. Kids got it decorated while I wrapped up what I had already purchased.
Jamie had non stop Christmas music playing on the radio...I can feel those Humbugs creeping back up on me :-) I kept hearing noises and comments from Stevie's room.

"Dang. Shoot. Aw man."

 I look into his room and see him jumping around and bending over. Pretty much normal goofy behavior. Finally he comes in and plops himself down while I fold laundry.

"Um...Mom...you know that heater you gave me? How come I can't light farts with it?"

Heaven help me! I laughed so hard that now I am dealing with an asthma attack :-) Wish I had a hidden camera.
The real humor with our little episode...is that it is an entirely enclosed oil heater...you know, the roll around type...no open flames...and the child was totally dressed :-) I laughing explained he had the concept right but he needed to work on the mechanics...ROFLOL.

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One year for gifts I made all the extended family members a set of painted
Christmas balls. It was easy really. I used plain glass balls and acrylic
paints. Pop off the little metal doo dad on the top of the ball and squeeze
in two different colors of paint. Red and white looked really nice. Put your
finger over the hole, and swish the ball around to coat the inside with
paint. It looks like marble. Once they are dry tie a ribbon around the hook
holding loop and your done. This was a fantastic thing for us that year. The
boys were small (3 and 4) and extra cash was hiding. We had a little olive
tree that year, not quite 3 foot tall. I had decorated it and it was sitting
on top of a coffee table pushed into the corner. I had a few ornaments left
over and decided to make some for myself :-) Those red and white balls
looked really nice on there, I was pleased. So were the boys!

I went into the bathroom to answer the call of nature. Now, you do know
that if anything is going to happen it happens when you're in the bathroom.
I am convinced that is a cosmic law somewhere. Just as I sat down there was
a crashing noise. Never good. Then Stevie starts to scream bloody murder. I
am scrambling to pull myself together. Johnny is beating on the bathroom
door yelling "MOMMA! Tree done ATE Stevie!! Tree done ATE Stevie!!"

Sure enough, I get into the living room and there is the tree tipped over
into the middle of the floor. All I could see of Stevie were his feet and
hands, kicking and flapping out either side! One of the ornaments I had made
hadn't dried all the way and had dribbled red paint onto Stevie's hand.
Stevie had started to calm down once I made it into the room. I grab the
tree and start to lift it off of him. Johnny points to Stevie's hand and
says "See! BLOOD!! I Told you the tree was EATING him!" Well that undid poor
Stevie. Self preservation mode kicked in and he threw up :-( all over the
Christmas tree.

Half an hour later the boys are calmed down, cleaned up, and watching out
the window. I am in the front yard with the Christmas tree, fully decorated,
spraying it off with bleach and the garden hose. Jon pulls into the drive
way. Get's out of the car and walks over, pauses, then continues on into the
house. As he passes by me he says, " I am afraid to even imagine why the
Tree needs a bath."

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BK, (before kids) I was a dog groomer and worked in a nifty little shop called the Animal House. Jon and I lived in a studio apartment and had two cats Willie Bugger and Zeke. Willie Bugger was your typical lovable housecat. Zeke was a monster. He was a one person cat, and lucky for me I was that one person. He was my baby. Zeke was a Maine Coon cross, he stood 15 inches tall at the shoulder and weighed 24 pounds. He was attitude zipped into a black and white fur coat :-)

 So, one day at work our Fritz sales rep comes in and he is pushing his latest and greatest products. Which just so happened to be a potty trainer for your cat! Cool beans! It looked simple enough and was surely worth a shot, right? The basic idea was to take this plastic tray and set it under the toilet lid. The first few days it has kitty litter in it, and each day you add less litter. Pretty soon you have no litter and a small hole cut into the center, the final step is to remove the tray. If all goes well you have a cat trained to squat onto the toilet rim and do his business into the potty. Um, it didn’t go too well at my house. Willie did alright. Zeke big lug that he was, would make the tray buckle each time he jumped up onto it. Which in turn would fling kitty litter skyward! So we chalked that up to a lesson learned and went on with life. Or so we thought. We soon found out that Zeke DID learn something from the potty trainer. He learned that it was fun to poop on porcelain.

 So here is the scenario we had. Jon had to be up for work earlier than I did, so he would get first shower. The first time this happened I laughed until I cried. Jon shuffles off into the bathroom, turns on the shower and lets the water run to warm up while he brushes his teeth. I hear the shower curtain open up, then slide shut – then an earth shattering bellow erupts from the bathroom! “SINDY! There is !@#$! Cat !@#$ in the bath tub!” What do you do other than laugh? At least the first time. Okay, so I laughed the second time. Wouldn’t you? I mean come on, if you found yourself standing in kitty poo poo while showering, wouldn’t you at least LOOK before you got in the next day? This went on for the entire week. Jon would get up, go into the bathroom, get into the shower and scream bloody murder. Friday night he decides he will shut the bathroom door when we go to sleep. That should keep Zeke out of the shower. Um yes, and locked away from the litter box. That morning Jon woke up, sat on the side of the bed and looked over at me. He says “Today I will take a shower without !@#$.” He slips his feet into his house shoes - - - right into - - - you guessed it, kitty poo poo. You cannot imagine the words that were echoing around the bedroom as he hopped to the bathroom to clean himself off. Me? Oh, I am still in bed, laughing. Saturday night Jon decides to lock Zeke into the cat carrier for the night. Zeke decides to howl and caterwaul all night long. Sunday Jon goes to Home Depot and buys a sliding glass shower door. It takes him all day to install it, and oh is he proud of himself when he is done. I have to admit it looked nice, frosted glass and chrome. Jon announces that he has “Beat that cat.” All is well with the world.

 Monday morning. Jon wakes up. Jon walks into the bathroom and starts the shower, brushes his teeth – then starts to yell. “!@#$ CAT!”

Oh I can’t laugh – it has reached beyond that point. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing as Jon rants about the cat. HOW did he get inside the shower? The Obvious explanation is that I must not have shut the shower door. That night Jon gets out of bed not twice, but three times to check and make sure the shower door was shut. Next morning, yep you guessed it. And the next. And the one after that. Jon was going crazy trying to figure out how Zeke was getting into the shower, and I have to admit I was getting tired of cleaning up after their battle of wills. Friday evening rolls around. Keep in mind poor Jon has now stepped in cat poop every morning for two weeks. He decides he is going to stay awake ALL night and discover how Zeke is getting into the shower. Not me, I have work in the morning. I go to sleep and leave the two of them to taunt each other all night if they feel like it. At some point I might have dreamed Jon dancing around the bedroom gloating, “Ha! I’ve got you now you !@#$ cat!” At least now years later, Jon claims I was dreaming. The next day when I come home from work Jon explains to me that he caught Zeke standing on his hind legs scratching the shower door until it vibrated open. Um, okay. Now what? Jon had already taken care of now what. He hauled me upstairs to check out the new Zeke proof shower door. LOL! Our shower door had a patio door lock installed on it! I have to give Jon credit, it did the trick. Zeke was never able to open the shower on his own again, but heaven help you if you forgot to lock it. We lived in that apartment for four years, then moved into the house here. The shower door with its lock moved with us. Whenever we would have company over the inevitable question would arise. “Hey Rodenmayer, why the hell is there a lock on your shower door?” Jon would look at me, then to the person who asked, “Just don’t ever let your wife try to toilet train the cat.”

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It was "Family Reunion" time. One of those rare occasions when all of my Papaw's surviving siblings were at the same place at the same time. This was the BIG event, never ever have we had that many people to the River at one time. Uncle Bobby kindly taught all the children how to catch grasshoppers and hold them just right, so that they would spit. Now grasshoppers make great fish bait, but they are also pretty good fun for chasing each other around with too. It was a wonderfully hectic weekend. By Sunday I was dragging. No where near enough sleep and so much visiting wears a person right out. One of the Cousins was planning on staying and running some catfish. Aunt Sis decided to make him some of her special Stink Bait. Now, Aunt Sis told me what she was putting in that mess, but I have to admit I didn't pay much attention. It was all I could do to sit close enough to her to keep company while breathing through my mouth trying not to pass out from the smell. I finally manage to scoot my chair around so I am sitting down wind and we keep visiting while she makes this wretched bait. What neither of us realized was that Cowdog (then a pup of about 3 months) had snuck in from behind and was under Aunt Sis's chair. We couldn't see her because she was behind the bait bucket...but some of the Uncle's could...and were making bets on what would happen first. Pup getting sick on Aunt Sis's bait, or Aunt Sis finding the thief and the comic chase that would ensue. Sadly for us neither of these happened. So now we fast forward a couple of hours. Jon and I have managed to pack all the camping gear and bags into the trunk. Boys are belted into the back seat with Jamie's car seat wedged snugly between them. They looked like little sardines back there. Passenger floor board is filled up with the ice chest of snacks and drinks. Yes that means I was expected to make the 2 hour trip home sitting Indian style. But that's okay. The car had a nice working AC and we figured the kids would sleep. Off we go. About 15 minutes down the highway Johnny starts giggling, Cowdog has the hiccups. Well, puppies with hiccups are funny...until of course they regurgitate a mess of stink bait into someone's lap. The screaming and crying sprang out of no where. Kids going berserk, Jon and I had no clue what was going on. Well, at least until the earth shattering aroma worked it's way into the front seat. So now we have Jon trying to get us pulled over to the side of the highway. Stevie of course has thrown up also, Jamie is chanting "Yucky Yucky Yucky" at the top of her lungs and Johnny is crying. Car is pulled over now. I jump out and bravely dive into the back seat while Jon takes Cowdog for a little walk. Now we have a problem. After cleaning up the "present" the smell didn't go away. This wasn't just a bad smell. This was an Epic smell. The kind to curl your toenails and make bald men grow hair. Two hours just turned into eternity. So much for AC. Windows were rolled down, and off we went again. 105 degrees zipping down the highway, wind whipping around that little car. Kids finally passed out from crying...just as we reached home. It was disgusting. Once things are semi peaceful again I take a moment to call back and let folks know we made it home okay. Voice on the other end of the phone..."So how far did ya'll make it before that dog threw up?"

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Aunt Sindy, come quick! Stevie is locked in the outhouse and wont come out!

Sigh, never a good thing to hear. The current outhouse is a one sitter, and no room at all for company. So now I apparently have a 6 year old in there who is crying and screaming and will NOT unlock the door and come out. Now when Stevie is calm and trying he is easy to understand. When he is in this state though everything his speech teachers have taught him has gone right out the window. All I can make out is something about a black cat. A black cat? I hadn't seen a cat down here at all. Oh well, I do manage to get him pried out of the pooper and headed to the cabin. Umm...something smells a bit off. I sit Stevie down on the back porch and make him calm down to tell me what happened. This is proving a bit more difficult than what I expected. He keeps getting all worked up again, tears and snot everywhere. I finally have to recruit Johnny to tell me what happened to his brother.

"Oh that...well...ummm... Stevie had to poop. And I kinda sorta threw a black cat into the window at him." Stevie is furiously nodding his head up and down at this "And...ummm...it might have really scared him when he was pooping." Okay, I can deal with that, and even accept responsibility for knowing where he got the idea from. I turn to Stevie, "Hunny, you have to calm down. Your okay. It was only a little noise, stop crying." Well by now Stevie has at least calmed down enough that I can understand him through the tears. "I can't...it's the poo" Ah,the poor child never got to finish his business. "You still have to go poop?" "NO! You is making me SIT in it!" ACK! It seems that Stevie heard his brother and cousins as they were beginning their assault on the outhouse. He was already seated, but just HAD to see what the other boys were up to. So he stands up JUST as the black cat comes flying through the outhouse window. The bang scared him so bad he pooped. And the poop landed back in his pants that were down around his ankles. Unfortunately he didn't notice that until I made him sit down on the back porch.

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Yes in the city limits it is illegal to shoot off fire arms, doesn't stop some people though. There are some fire arms that can be legally shot off. Years ago I had a problem with squirrels in my attic (what an opening) Had to have a new roof put on, but first had to get rid of the squirrels. Problem is once they have made a home in your house they keep coming back. I couldn't put out bait because I didn't want to kill the nice squirrels...just needed to evict the renters :-) So I threw our largest cat up the attic opening....then ran outside to sit under their exit hole. Once there I used a CO2 pellet pistol to pick them off. I must have been a pretty scary sight. Running in and out of my front door, sneaking around the side of the house holding that gun...because the little old lady behind me called the police :-) The
officer and I had a good laugh about it and he even hauled off the evidence of my crime.

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Most boys go through a phase where they avoid showers and bathing. For us this occurred the summer the boys were 11 and 13. Every single night it was a battle. YES you need a shower you are DIRTY! In they would go, and out they would come…just as grungy as when they went in. BACK you go…and this time touch the soap to your body and rub it around. Grrr. I was getting very frustrated with smelly boys. Jamie on the other hand was the exact opposite at the time. She would live in the bath if you let her, and jumped at the chance to have more than one a day. Now I bet you are dying to know how I remedied this situation. My weapon of choice was a fine point Sharpe marker. Jamie is an extremely sound sleeper. While she was sleeping I slipped into her room and drew a smiley face on the bottom of her foot. Then I left the marker on the dresser in the boy’s bedroom. The next morning we are sitting around watching something inane on TV, when Jamie notices her foot and lets out a squeal of delight! “I have a smiley on my foot!” You sure do I said. The boys immediately start asking questions, who did that, why did they do that, how did they do that? “Oh, I did. I thought it would be a laugh, so I put a smiley on each of you last night.” The guys frantically start looking on the bottoms of their feet, “You did Not.” Why sure I did, but you didn’t expect me to make yours as easy to find did you? Now I can tell if you are using SOAP! You better make sure you get those smileys washed off before they become permanent.” They start to check each other over like two monkeys at the zoo. Looking behind ears, back of elbows, knee pits…it was a hoot. They had almost convinced themselves that I was pulling one over on them when Stevie found the marker I had left n the bedroom. “JOHNNY! Johnny! Come HERE! Look at that.” I can only imagine him pointing at the marker and the look of horror on Johnny’s face as he said…” I get FIRST shower!”

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Stevie was about three years old and had one of those nasty childhood bugs. The
doctor had me flip flopping Tylenol and Motrin every three hours to try and
keep the fever under control. Now unlike my other children who take those
medications and fall asleep...this is Stevie after all...they sent him into
warp speed. Jon was out of town and I was on day two of no sleep. If the
monkey doesn't sleep the Momma can't sleep :-) It is around midnight and I
have my brother Marshall on the phone. He was being extremely patient with
me attempting to help me work through my first virus/trojan on my computer.
Stevie came out of his bedroom for the umpteenth time and informed me that
he thought he might puke. Marshall laughs. I get my large plastic mixing
bowl out of the cupboard and put Stevie back into bed. If you get sick,
please do it in the bowl Hunny. Back on the phone with Marshall now. I am
trying to pay attention to what he is telling me to do, and trying to ignore
the thumping, bumping and giggling coming from the bedroom. Pretty soon I hear
a plaintive "Mooommmy" heading in my direction. I look up and there is
Stevie coming down the hall. Naked, all stooped over...and with my mixing
bowl glued over his backside. Marshall is dying laughing now. I have no idea
why the child took all his clothes off, and then decided to sit in the salad
bowl. What I do know is, that sweaty fever ridden monster was exactly the
right size to get STUCK in that bowl. Super Mom to the rescue. Tragedy is
averted and Stevie is again in bed. Marshall can breath again, but is busy
telling Scott what is going on at my house. Then not five minuets later
here comes Stevie again. Undressed again. Holding my salad bowl in front of
himself. Marshall is holding his breath on the phone, waiting to see what
shenanigans will happen next. Stevie peeks up at me and lifts the bowl away
and says, "Mommy...what's my weasel doing?" For those of you not in the
know...weasel is what we called his "you know what". I am ready to cry. This
night will never end. I look at him and say, "Sweetie, it's exercising. Now
please leave it alone and go back to bed". Marshall and Scott are having
absolute fits now. EXERCISING?! How in the world did you come up with that?
LOL. It has been a running family joke ever since

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Johnny is 4 and Stevie is 2. We had flown up to Ohio to visit Grandparents. It was a wonderful trip. Last day of the trip we had a bit of a celebration. Grandma made Dirt Cups. For any of you not in the know...these are chocolate Jell-O puddings with Oreo cookies crumbled onto them, and gummy worms stuck all through out. Yummy and fun all at once! The boys loved them and slurped everything right down. Finish packing and head to the airport. Jon had left a couple days earlier due to work, so I was flying home with the boys alone. I am on the outside seat with Stevie in my lap (this was before the days of car seats on planes) Johnny is in the middle seat, and a nice man in a suit is in the window seat. The flight got bumpy and things got nasty. Johnny looks at me and says, my mouth feels funny. Then he turns his head and throws up in the lap of the man next to him! Stevie looks down and yells at the top of his lungs...BUBBA GOT'S WORMS! Sure enough, there in the business man's lap are gummy worms Johnny slurped down whole. I can't say I am sorry enough! I use the burp rags I have in the diaper bag to help the poor man clean up. The turbulence is awful now and no one can move from their seats. Johnny throws up again... yep, more worms. I have Stevie standing in the seat behind me, other passengers are pointing their air vents at us and tossing barf bags. The flight attendant is no where to be seen. By the end of the flight the business man is looking quite sick himself and has his face pressed to the window...through out the whole ordeal he hasn't said one word. Johnny is stripped to his underwear. Stevie is happily chanting Bubba got's worms, over and over. The flight attendant shows up and lets the children and I off the plane first. Our smell was unbelievable. That was most definitely the most wretched flight ever. To this day I still imagine that poor man. 

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We have always been a family that enjoys hand-me-downs. One year Stevie was passed a pair of well worn red cowboy boots from his cousin. Stevie loved these boots. His most common attire that summer was the boots and a bathing suit. School started up and the boots still fit, so they were allowed to be worn. I’m thinking, hey this is pretty cool. No fighting over getting shoes on him. At this time I was having daily morning battles with Johnny over socks. The line across the toe had to go just so….or off they would come and start again. There were mornings when after 45 minutes I would crack, grab the offending socks…stuff them onto his feet and tie on his shoes. All amidst tears (Johnny’s not mine). Second week of school rolls by. I’m enjoying a cup of coffee when the phone rings. To my surprise it was the school asking for me to come down immediately for a conference. UH OH. I cannot imagine what is wrong. Fret all the way to the school. Sit nervously in the hall waiting to speak to the teacher AND the principal. Soon the teacher comes walking down the hall with Stevie beside her. He is shuffling his feet, head hung down, and his jeans are wet from the knees down. I could tell he had been crying and he wouldn’t make eye contact with me. I follow them into the conference room.

To make a long story short…

That rascal decided he was a Dancing Cowboy. He was caught dancing in the urinal in the boy’s bathroom while singing Achy Breaky Heart!

 

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I really am a horrible Aunt. We were all down at the Cabin fishing. Robin and Jim had made it down with their family. I was making chili for the evening meal. Austin came in and looked into the pot. He gets a horrified look on his face and says...WHAT is THAT? Jim pips up, He won't eat it Sindy, He hates everything. Well...I figured I had nothing to loose so I reply to Austin...Road Kill. His jaw hit the floor and I kept playing it up. After all, it is fair game to torment the Yankee cousins.

No way

Way

MOM...is it really

Austin, hasn't your Momma ever made you road kill chili?

Robin, your neglecting the boy

MOMM

It's okay Austin, I only used the possum that was down by the bridge...here want a taste?

Austin had a peanut butter sandwich for dinner :)

The boys were very small, I think 5 and 6. We were all down doing the never ending cabin repairs. Uncle Marshall was there too this visit. My boys ADORE Marshall. They shadowed his every footstep that weekend. Marshall took the guys on a hike up the road. Along the way they stopped and saw an old graveyard close by. They found an old sardine can opener in the ditch and Marshall decided to have some fun. He announced that what they had found was nothing less than A SKELETON KEY. Since they found it right at the grave yard it had to open one of the graves. Stevie started crying to go home and they started back. Now I am not sure exactly how it came to happen...but Stevie spit in the graveyard. Marshall just couldn't pass that up. So on the way back to the cabin he concocted a story about what happens to little boys who spit in graveyards...and how the ONLY thing that will keep the skeletons from coming and getting you is if you sleep with the SKELETON KEY under your pillow. So here we are all trying to sleep that night. All 7 of us in one room on air mattresses. The sleeping arrangement was...Johnny on a single, then Marshall and Stevie on a queen, Jon and I on a queen, then Nanna and Papa on the last queen. We were snug. We were also all very tired and worn out from a long hard day of working and repairing. I woke up some time later to see a flashlight beam waving around and Marshall whispering, "It's okay, it's okay." I rolled over and asked what was happening. Marshall quietly admitted that he had scared Stevie a bit too much...and the poor child had an accident. "BUT" he added..."I'm a good Uncle and it's all taken care of now. We just got dry clothes out of the bag and all is well" Fair enough. I rolled over to go back to sleep. I can still hear Marshall quietly telling Stevie everything is okay. It took a few minutes but Stevie did drop back off to sleep. I hear Marshall moving around getting comfortable, then a GASP! "Oh NO" he moaned. "What?" I ask. "My WOOBIE! He pee'd all over my WOOBIE!" I started laughing so hard I crawled to the door and went outside. Where I was promptly joined by my disgruntled brother. Seems you can't sleep with a pee'd on woobie :) What's a woobie you ask? That would be the blankie that Marshall has had since he was a little guy. LOL...it was also the only blanket Marshall had brought to sleep with. Woobie was hung on a clothes line between 2 cedar trees. That was all we could do for the poor thing as we had no running water. Every time I looked at Marshall I started laughing again.

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It is a small house and we are a close family. Momma suffers from what the rest of the family calls constipation. Did you know guys expect you to be able to poo every day?! I am too busy quilting and designing to make that a daily occurrence, lol. Seriously though, I am eating my bran cereal and hoping for at least a bi-weekly event. So now that you know my bathroom habits you have to be sitting there wondering why on earth this warrants a blog entry. This past weekend, because it has become such a family joke (okay and concern) I made the announcement that I was heading to the bathroom. As the house erupted in cheers and giggles I made my way down the hall. Teddy and FatCat raced on ahead of me, no one ever said I would have privacy. The cats jump into the bath tub and I plant my ample behind onto the throne. CRACK! There was this earsplitting sound that I swore was the seat cracking in half. Teddy launched over my head. FatCat clawed past my feet. Both of them now hiding in the towel cupboard. I sit there wondering if I was about to fall in. Thinking, Great, now i need to buy a new toilet seat. Soon (as business was frightened out of me) I was able to lift the seat and inspect it. Did I find a crack or a break? Nope not at all. Instead I found the remains of several carefully placed Snap Pops. Snap Pops for those of you who are not readily familiar with them are little twists of rocks and gunpowder. The kids get them on the 4th of July and have a blast tossing them at feet. When they hit the ground they make a POP and a small puff of smoke. Under a toilet seat I now know it becomes a CRACK instead. I wash my hands, reassure the hiding cats and make my way into the kitchen. Once there I holler at the kids, "Front and Center, Family Meeting!" The house erupts in panic. Kids are quietly sitting on couches. Jon is at his desk with a concerned look on his face. I hear mumblings of, "wasn't me", "well I sure didn't do anything". I instruct Jon to carefully watch kids faces as I make an announcement from the kitchen. The look he gave me was priceless. "Alright you guys, While I commend the ingenuity of who ever boobie trapped the toilet..." And that was as far as I got. Stevie is giggling and laughing so hard he can barely breath. It is obvious who the culprit is. I toss a stern look his way, and announce that he now has kitty poop duty for the week. Still laughing and gasping he lets all know it was well worth the punishment. The only thing he regretted was that he had upset CowDog so much with his test run, that Jon had to give her some of her medication to calm her down. "The acoustics in there were great for that, weren't they Mom?" Then quietly I hear "And you guys wonder why she can't poo..."

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I don't care how well we raise them, they still sometimes do Guy stuff. Like when I first went to work for the school. I started work a week before the kids started school. That meant they were all three home alone! Yikes! I came home the first day and all looked well, but there was a funny smell in the living room. I went about cleaning up and made dinner. Next day when I got home I once again smelled something as I entered the house. It was stinky! I swept, mopped , vacuumed and cleaned the living room up. Next day I come home and the smell is worse! The kids have no clue what it is. Again I scrub the living room, I sweep and mop, and spray Lysol on everything. The next day, by now I am tired, and same thing happens. The awful smell is like a green cloud you have to pass through as you enter the door. I am at my wits end trying to figure out what it is and where it is coming from. I go through the whole routine again, then flop exhausted onto the couch. Out of the corner of my eye I see something white. No way! I leap up and rip the cushions off the couch. Low and behold there is an entire week's worth of dirty stinky boy socks that have been being stuffed between the cushions all week long! No wonder it smelled!

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