A little piece of me

When I was a little girl I had only one true love.

Horses.

Forget Barbie, Strawberry Shortcake, New Kids on the Block (okay so I was a teenager then, not a little girl...not the point), or anything else.

I was all about horses. Drawing horses, horse figurines, horse books, and riding horses. If it had to do with horses, I wanted to be a part of it.
I was going to grow up and marry a cowboy, and live in the country, riding every single day of my life, raising babies on horseback.

Well, then life happened, and I grew up and married a hunter/football star/baseball star/basketball star and we live in city limits. But the silver lining is that where I live, I'm little bit country ("I'm a little bit rock and roll"-sorry... you can't say that without following up with that), and I'm a little bit city. Our lot backs up to someone else's horse pasture. And I have the best of both worlds.

Tomorrow morning I'll show you what I get to look at out of the back of my house every day. Not today's point however.
The point is that since my boys were born I've done very little riding. And the children that were going to ride before they walked, have only ridden a handful of times.

This summer however we got the chance to go to a really amazing place. My dear friend Ardelle, who is a labor and delivery nurse with me, has started a non-for profit organization at her farm. At Turning Point Stables, her goal is double sided. She began rescuing horses that have been abused and neglected, and allowed some to come live out their last days on a beautiful farm being well cared for. Her hope to is bring children in need of "something" together with horses that need "something".
Whether it's an autistic child, or a troubled teenager, or city kid that has never been to a farm, Ardelle believes that through horsemanship, a lot of life lessons can be learned.

Well, I got the chance to take the boys (and myself) to her beautiful farm and teach them a thing or two about something I know.

Alec was a little nervous at first. I mean that horse looks HUGE when you are that size. (By the way, at the end of the day this was the horse I rode. So gorgeous!)

Ardelle is patient and kind and makes sure that they do all the work.

No free rides. If you want to ride, you need to learn to lead your horse back to the barn. Alec chose a horse named Daisy.
I encourage you to read this quick link about Daisy and her "turning point" at Ardelle's. A true testament of what can happen when a horse is given proper mental and physical nourishment.

Joe on the other hand was pretty fearless.

Sucked up every word of information Ardelle offered him. I got the chance to just step back and watch him learn from her. He was like a sponge that day. He chose a horse named Navarre.
If you were a child/half adult of the 80's you may remember a movie named Ladyhawke-which you would not have forgotten if you saw it.
So remember...Rutger Hauer's character's name was Navarre...

anyway..thus this horse's name. (I think I need to rent that movie again...)

And then came the moment we had all waited for:

Joe independently riding.

And then this one:

Alec on horseback.

And this may not be the best photographic photo,

but just look at that smile.

And here is the whole little point of this tale. This may have been the proudest day I've had as their mother. See I'm a pretty good boy mom. I throw a mean football and baseball. I'm not afraid to hold a frog, or touch a snake. And occasionally, if I've gulped the appropriate amount of pop I can crank out an impressive burp. But I've taught them very little about the things that they currently love. Nick has give them an endless amount of time and energy teaching them about the things he loves. It's because of him that Alec is a baseball-aholic, and that they know about gun safety, and that every night they want to play football in the front yard. See I can support all that, but I didn't teach them that.

But this day....this day I got to shine. To teach them some horsemanship. To teach them subtle things about a horse's character, and how to watch their ears and you'll know whether they are happy are sad, or really ticked off. And when they rode those horses, I was so freakin' proud. I felt like for the first time in their lives I had given them a piece of me, and having them love it, meant more to me than I can express.

The Evolution of Ozzie

In addition to two boys, we happen to have 2 dogs. Both male. Both brought home by me, without hubby's knowledge or approval.

Doggie #1 (we'll meet him another day), was brought home before we were married. A bold move, that made my then fiance wonder about my ability to make snap inappropriate decisions.

Doggie #2 was brough home last April. I was kind of feeling like maybe I wanted to have another baby. I was feeling the need to nuture, to love, to mold. And somehow my need to nuture crossed pathes with fate...at a garage sale. So today I'm going to share with you how Ozzie became a part of our family.



So innocently enough on an April morning, I drive my kids to school, little turds farted around and missed the bus, so I had to drive them.
"Bye, love ya, see you after school." And on my way,down the street, back to my life of laundry and dusting. Cruising along just fine, past a garage sale, and there they are.
There in that little pen in the front yard. Small tiny black furballs, bouncing around, rolling on top of each other with a sign on the pen that says "Puppies for Sale".
Now mind you, I have no intention of getting another dog. Hubby was not happy 9 years ago when I brought the first one home, I learned my lesson. I'm just going to stop and take a look. I mean they are so stinkin' cute, I just gotta look at them.

Whip the car into park and quickly walk up, scoop one out of the cage and let it lick my face with the fabulous little puppy breath smell. I oogle and google over the thing. Find out they are Shih tzu's, all boys left, all the girls are gone. So I stay for like half an hour loving each and every one of them. "Okay, I must go home." "Bye, guys, your really cute, hope you find good homes".

So I head back home. A couple hours later, while manning my own garage sale, I say to my sister. "There was a sale this morning that had puppies, they were SOOOOOOOOOO cute (sounding like I'm about 7 when I say "so cute".)
"Well, lets go see them"
"Okay"
"Mom, we'll be back, we're going to go see the puppies."

Now when you come back a second time, the people selling the puppies start to work you over a little harder.
"Oh your back"
"I just brought my sister to see them"
"I see" (chuckle, chuckle)
Then lots of questions about where we live, what type of family we have, you know, working us over as possible buyers. Same thing again, half an hour of looking, and then your outta there.

Now here's where it starts to get ugly. You go pick up your kids at school and tell them there is a garage sale with puppies,
"What....can we go see them....PPPLLLLEEEAAASSSEEE." Then you try to act like no we aren't going to go see them, but inside your thinking "yes".

Okay, now when you show up for the third time with your kids, they pretty much hand you the puppy, his papers, and they ask for $350 (yikes!-for a dog?)

But see, this is the evil part. When you take the kids home and they beg their Dad for the dog, it doesn't look as pathetic as if you beg for the dog. Saying things like "well, get me the puppy and I'll stop whining over a baby" or "if I don't get to nurture something I might decide to buy a horse, or a pot belly pig, or adopt a child from Romania" don't seem totally appropriate.

Now insert the horrific look of "your not serious are you? It's taken me 9 years to like the other dog, don't push your luck lady. For the love of God, tell me you are not going to do this!".

Now insert me going from endearing and kind of cute, to me thinking "I don't really care, I think this will keep me sane".
"I'm getting me a puppy, I mean.....I'm getting the kids a puppy."

And so we all four went and look at the puppies, and the kids and I picked out which one would become my new psuedo child, the thing that I would nurture and try to make it seem like it filled the human void. And Nick stood there is disbelief, hoping it was all just some bad dream, hating EVERY second of the whole process, and basically looking at me like "don't even think for a second that I am going to do anything to take care of that thing".

Love, a lot of love.

And so, in all reality, it was one of the best decisions I ever made. Having a new little something, that thought the world of me, needed me, went ( and still does) everywhere I go, gave me back a little tiny sense of being needed. That animal loves me, and the kids, and Nick (shhh, don't tell him, it still wants to act like he doesn't like him, but I've caught him teaching the little furball how to hug).

He's brought a lot of mindless joy (and frustration in the form of housebreaking) and I always say to everyone that he's my third child.
With that being said, I don't carry him around in a purse, dress him up in clothes, or take him for pictures with Santa. I haven't totally lost my mind.

And that my friends, is the the Evolution of Ozzie. A little black and brown Shih Tzu that helped keep my sanity. He might have only a face a mother could love, and he's not the smartest dog ever, but he's served a very important purpose in this house.




And don't tell anyone, but I think maybe, just maybe, Nick actually likes the little guy. What do you think?

The smell of boy

Okay all of you with only girls, I have a little treat for you. Think of it as a scavenger hunt. A little project in what you are missing out on.

First, you will need to get a bag of Frito's. Set on your counter.

Next, go get out a pound of freshly ground hamburger. Now set it next to the Frito's.

Now, out to your garden and grab a handful of dirt. Set next to the other items.

Lastly, grab your husbands nasty smelling gym shoes and set them next to the other items.

Now scoot all of them items next to each other and cup your hand and waft those smells toward your nose.

You know, kind of like wine snobs swirl wine, and then sniff the bouquet. "Smokey, with a hint of cedar, and cherry."

Okay back to the wafting: "Corn chippy, with a hint of raw hamburger, intense fresh dirt smell, ending with the smell of old shoes."

That, my friends, is the smell of boy.



I'm serious. You don't know the pheromones that they give off until you live with them. It doesn't smell good, but the longer you live with them, the more you get used to it.

And somehow, I would imagine, that when they are grown men, I will actually miss that smell. But for now, I'll just continue to look at them and say, "You smell, go take a shower."

And they will continue to grin with the little smile that makes me think they are very proud of the smell that give off.

Okay, now go make dinner with that hamburger, it's been sitting on you counter for 10 minutes now.

Fall in Minnesota

One of the best parts of Midwest living is the amazing change is season that we are able to have. And I LOVE the fall.
Nothing beats the amazing color change that you get, the smell of the leaves, the sound of the leaves crunching underneath your feet. And the great fall harvest that you get.
Apples would be the best part in my opinion. And if you've never had a Honey Crisp, your life is not complete. I'm serious.
If you are an apple eater, they are the best. Hard, crunchy, sweet, and so very satisfying.
Saturday was our annual trip to an apple orchard to do some picking, eating, and wandering through corn mazes.

Just look:

These my friends are Honey Crisps. Yummy, yummy, yummy!


Wandering through the orchard you get to sample one or two, if your a hungry 9 year old who needs to be fed every 2 hours.


I'm starting to cherish pictures like this, because my little boys aren't so little anymore and pictures like this are getting harder and harder to capture.


And mister "I'm getting to cool for stuff like this" even went and stood in the corn for a picture. (Look at the child's hair--anyone want to sneak into my house and shave his head while he sleeps?)


And if could have only heard the discussion that occurred leading up to this picture.
"Hey guys, go put your head through the ghosts."
"SERIOUSLY?"
"YES...SERIOUSLY"
"Mom, come on....do we have to?"
"Yes"
"But mom, it's stupid"
"Exactly!"
"You're so weird"
"Thank you"
Insert groaning...something I hear a lot.

(To be followed later with a discussion that went:
"Mom, your not going to do anything with that stupid ghost picture are you?"
"Like what?"
"Like print it off and show it to people, or put it on your blog or something?"
"Of course not"--my fingers were totally crossed, TOTALLY!)

And after enduring such things, at least they each got one of these at the end of the day!

YUMMY!!!!

Join the Journey-year 2

Wow what a busy, busy week I have had. Sorry I've missed you all, I just had to put the blog on the back burner for a few days. But life is back to normal now, and I get you caught up on my little life.

For those of you that have read from the beginning, this will be a repeat of information, for those of you new to the blog, it's just one more installment in my life.

So, last June my sister was diagnosed with breast cancer at 41. My mother is a breast cancer survivor, her sister died of breast cancer in her late 40's, and my father's mother had breast cancer. So you might say that I have a slightly higher risk of getting the disease (gee, ya think?) So last September we walked in our first Join the Journey breast cancer walk, that is a grass roots walk here in our community. The walk is only 4 years old and every year it grows and grows.

So last Sunday it was our second year to walk. 10 miles, by the way. I have to tell you that it is an amazing sight. Those that are walking that are survivors wear a pink shirt, and everyone else supporting them wears gray. I cannot tell you the lump you get in your throat watching this sea of over a 1000 pink and gray shirts walk through our city.

We start the day with a kick off speech at one of the high school stadiums.

Here we are sitting on the cold wet bleachers waiting to get our walk going. A little tough to not get a little choked up listening to the ladies kick it off.

Here we are on about mile 6. Me, the ever dopey clown that has to take a flying leap as my dad photographes from across the street.

I love my mom and sister laughing at me making a complete ass out of myself while the teenage girls behind us completely ignore me.
(Can just insert that it is killing me to look at myself in the picture-I'm going to go eat a salad. Don't you hate yourself in pictures?)

And at the end of the 10 miles they feed you an amazing meal. Here is my sister enjoying these amazing brownies with a fabulous ganache on the top.

The significance of this picture is that last year she was in the middle of chemo when we walked and couldn't taste anything because of the chemotherapy. So not only did she make it the 10 miles last year, but she couldn't taste a darn thing.

Here she is last year:

Just compare those 2 pictures. What a difference a year makes. Amazing gal she is, pretty amazing.

And they have all of this great information for everyone to have, including really encouraging everyone to do self exams. And these two gals walk around the whole day. Man they just crack me up.

And all I can think when I look this picture is, "I'm really glad I wasn't in a testicular cancer walk."

Summer Love

Shhhh....don't tell.

I covertly took these pictures of my oldest this summer. See, he really liked the little neighbor girl that was here to spend the summer with her dad. See, it all started out normal.
You know, they didn't want anything to do with each other. Yuck, I mean, who wants to play with a girl. They only like Barbies and wearing dresses and watching Hanna Montana right?

And then...well,

Turns out that home girl here, is well, a little bit of tomboy. Likes to skateboard, play guitar hero, and knows a thing or two about sports.

And so would be a 9 year olds version of summer romance. You know, adamantly denying to little brother and the other neighbor kids that you like her, yet spending more time with her than them, and finding out that some girls are "cool".

(Ahhh....duh....your mother is one of the cool ones....just ask your dad----insert eye rolling from all the males in my house)

But as with all good summer romances, they must come to an end. Saying goodbye is tough, especially when you are 9. I mean do you SAY "goodbye", or "see ya next summer", or do you hug-------no way! No this is what you do:


you stand in your front yard, making weird postures that involve crossing and uncrossing your arms and making a large spread leg male stance that shows your uncomfortable with the whole situation. Meanwhile your mother hides in the office and takes pictures through the screened window to document it all and post it to the world. See how cool your mother is?

And finally a quick "see ya", and you say "see you next summer" and then find out that actually, she will be back a Christmas for a couple of weeks and maybe you all can go snowboarding together. "Sweet!"
(what to the kids say these days that means "sweet" or "cool"---maybe I'm not so cool.)

So would end the first of the summer romances. You know the kind the mother finds sweet and innocent, because there was no kissing and hugging, and making grandbabies that I don't need at 43.
Whoa.........the reality of being a labor and delivery nurse does occasionally slap me in the face and remind me what a summer romance can lead to.

And those of you with teenage sons, you just keep your yaps shut, I know whats going to happen all too soon, and personally I like the state of denial I am living in--it works for me!

Seriously...how do they do this?

In case you are just tuning in...I'm the mother of 2 boys. 2 VERY active, somewhat stinky boys, that are magnets for dirt. Not like the playing in mud puddles dirt.

Like outside sand and dirt.

There is some sort of molecular pull that brings the dirt to them.

Let me show what I mean.
Exhibit A: Son # 2's socks:



Now one might believe this child was outside for like 24 hours without shoes on, running across muddy fields. But no, this child was outside for a day playing, in shoes, not running through mud.

People...this is my life. Socks that have to immediately be taken off before entering my house. I have a bucket in my laundry room known as the "dirty sock bucket", (I came up with that clever name.) And every 3-4 days a cycle starts that involves soaking overnight in Oxyclean (the best product ever made!), and then HOT water and bleach in the washing machine.

Inventors of the world, I'm calling out to you!

Hello, do you hear me?

Someone, not me, needs to make disposable socks for boys. Something that holds up during the day and then disintegrate upon coming into my house in the evening.

Could you please work on that? I'll be a test marketer for you!

I'm off to clean some socks, aren't you jealous?