Silent P

"Did you know the word pneumonia starts with a P?" Drake asked as we sat at the table eating supper.
"It is a silent P," I explained.
"P's aren't silent," Drake argued. "Pneumonia can't start with a P. It has to be an N."
"It does start with a P," Josiah answered.
"A P?" Drake asked, incredulous.
"Yes," Josiah confirmed.
"A P? As in pop?"
"No," Josiah explained. "A P as in pterodactyl."

It's A Thing

"Guess what Emery wants to do for her birthday," Mike told me.
"Go to a movie?" I guessed.
"She wants to go to a chicken auction and buy some chickens."
"Chicken auction? That's a thing?"

Apparently that's a thing.

And now we have 27 fancy chickens.

As the chickens were making themselves at home, I tried to figure out just when I had lost all control. I decided it was 17 years ago when the doctor said, "You're now a mom."

Worth it.

Thirteen

My sweet daughter is about to turn thirteen. She is my baby and has no right becoming a teenager. I am quite upset by this.

In spite of my anger, I asked her to write down a few things she might want as presents. Here is her list:  macaroni, 2% milk, socks, fix the broken window in my room, lotion, crackers, Mt. Dew, fruit roll ups, candy, beef jerky.

If your daughter's birthday list looks like a normal grocery list, I believe you can rest assured that she is not spoiled.

And you begin to question past birthdays. 

Kitty Eyes

I am not cut out for country life. It becomes very clear about this time of year. I love the fresh air, bright stars, silent evenings, and vast, empty fields of the greenest grass to ever grow. I do not like the mice who believe my house is ideal for them.

Country mice are bold. They will enter by any means possible. One even ran in through the front door along with my son as he returned home from school. In the bright daylight! In front of my eyes!

So it has been decided that we need a cat. Not one of those spoiled indoor cats who shed on you and demand their way, but an outdoor cat who never smells up the house and spends all of her time catching country mice.

Some very helpful friends told us that their cat just had kittens and we could have one as our mouse bouncer. So we innocently drove to their house and asked politely to see the mice catchers. We had no idea the tiny creatures were overwhelmingly adorable. Their cuteness overpowered me, and I grew giddy. I considered how hard it would be to leave such a delightful creature outside. I wondered if we would be able to stand strong against it's charm. I just couldn't bear to bring one home. I brought two home.

But they are definitely living outside. We did create a small bed and play area for them in our garage until they get big enough to defend themselves. But we will not bring them inside under any circumstance. Well, unless they need a bath. Which they did. Seven times. But then it was straight back out to the garage with them. They will definitely not be inside again. Unless they look at me with their irresistible kitty eyes. Then maybe they can come in for a bit just to feel safe. And maybe to snuggle a little. And play with string because how is it possible to be so cute while playing with string?

I guess I'm just cut out for country life.

Just Stop

The Hintz family has had a rough week. Instead of attending her prom, Makenna had her wisdom teeth pulled. Her face swelled up like a helium balloon, and she threw up for two days straight. Then she had to be treated for dry sockets, which is the worst thing I've ever watched happen.

Josiah broke his hand during a rugby game and is out for the rest of the rugby season. That doesn't bother him nearly as much as not being able to drum until his cast is off. The boy who drums on the countertop, his dinner plate, and when all drummable surfaces have been removed, his chest, is no longer able to drum. He may explode.

Even more disconcerting though, I have to write his homework for him. His handwriting is barely legible under the best of circumstances, so having him write with his left hand is laughable. I now get to spend my evenings drawing wavy physics graphs, writing in Latin, and writing complicated trig equations. I don't understand a single thing.

Hoping the madness was settling down, I went to the gym and enjoyed a stress reducing workout after all the kids left for school. When I was done, I noticed I had a text on my phone. It was from Josiah, which is not a good sign since he was at school. I unlocked my phone and read, "The plastic part of my headphone came off in my ear and I can't get it out."

I have just one thing to say to my kids.

STOP IT.

Hemi

My husband sent me to the auto store to pick up an air filter for my Jeep. I walked in confidently with my daughter and tried to pretend that I knew my way around. I saw a sign that said, "Filters," so I felt sure that my shopping experience would be short and painless. However, although the boxes stretched to the ceiling and down the length of the aisle, they all stated that they were specifically oil filters, not air filters.

Humbled, I approached the front counter and faced the large, sour-faced man guarding the cash register.

"Whaddya need?" he asked, and from his tone I could tell that I had interrupted some very important activity he had been doing. He was probably just about to set a new record for standing in one spot.
"I need an air filter. Are they with the oil filters somewhere?"
"I have to look it up," he grunted, and moved reluctantly from his record-setting spot to the computer. "What's the make and model of your car?"
"Jeep Commander, 2007," I answered, proud that I knew the information.
"What's the motor size?" He asked and yawned at the same time.
"Motor size?" I panicked and searched my mind for the knowledge. I begged the recesses of my brain to dig deep and find the motor size quickly.
"Motor size," he restated.
"Um," I deflated, "is there a way I would know that? Like, does it say it somewhere in the Jeep?"
"I'll have to pop the hood and take a look," he growled with a roll of his eyes.

We walked to the Jeep, and I spent the journey begging God to infuse me with knowledge on how to pop the hood with confidence. He waited at the front, unwilling to waste extra steps, while I took Emery with me to the driver's door and quickly found the lever with a picture of an open hood on it. Thankfully, I did the trick right, and the motor size was quickly discovered. Grumpy man waddled back to the computer and entered the unearthed information.

"Oh!" he said, staring at the computer screen. "You have a hemi."
"Yes, I do," I answered because I had seen that word on the back of my Jeep as I loaded groceries.
"A hemi," he nodded and raised one eyebrow. He looked out the window at my Jeep, and then he gave me a thumbs up.

I gave him my credit card, and he chit-chatted with a smile as the computer settled my bill. He waved to me and winked at Emery as we exited the store.

"What is a hemi?" Emery asked I started the Jeep.
"Apparently it is something that makes you awesome."

Later that same day I dropped my iphone in water. "It was completely submerged," I told Emery, "and look - it is still working!"
She looked at my phone, tested some of the apps, nodded, handed it back and said, "Maybe it has a hemi."

Farm Folk

It happened. We are farm folk.

I apparently lost all control awhile back, and now baby chickens live in my bathroom. We started with 10, but now we have 9 because we also have a chicken-loving husky. I'm not sure how it happened, but I'm pretty sure this wasn't my idea.

Nine baby chicks in my bathroom wasn't enough though, so my husband decided to build a chicken coop. I thought he was going to build a small, safe place for the baby chicks to live. What he did instead, though, is built a mammoth chicken mansion and filled it with grown-up, pecking, clucking chickens.

"Well," I sighed when I saw it, "at least the baby chicks will finally be out of my bathroom, and I can stop guarding them from Arrow all the time."
"Oh," he mumbled, "actually the baby chicks can't live out here."
"They can't?"
"No. The big ones will end up killing the little ones if we mix them."
"So, where are they going to live?"

They are in my bathroom. I'm guarding them.