Everyday Life, hilarious adventures

I have chosen a talent.


You know. Sometimes I feel like I’m on the Truman Show and that everyone is secretly watching me on a screen somewhere. The things that happen to me just don’t seem to happen to other people.

For instance, this morning I woke up to EIGHT dogs in my garage. I also have eight tunnels dug up underneath my fence.

And I’m assuming I will have 8 or so puppies soon because apparently Dixie is in heat.

The thought never occurred to me.

Until 8 male dogs were beating on my door this morning.

As if ALL THOSE dogs weren’t enough, they had all taken refuge in my garage from the pouring down rain.

So the girls and I have to fight our way to the car through the mob of dogs and then I started backing out and pushed the garage button.

And this is when all heck breaks loose, people.

Every.Single.Time. I tried shutting the garage door a dog would dart underneath it as it was coming down, triggering the sensor and making the door go back up.


I totally lost my religion on those dogs.

Now, remember, it was pouring down rain.

I would have all the dogs cleared away from the garage. I’d push the button to shut it and get in the car.


I am still so angry, y’all.

I finally decided to brave the weather and play goalie.

So there I was, guarding the door like a soccer goalie, yell “GET DOGS, GET!” (pronounced more like ‘git’) in my best Southern drawl while flailing about trying to scare them away.

Well I’ll be dang if one of those dogs didn’t dart through and make the garage go up even with me standing there.


So, me being COMPLETELY RATIONAL at this point, hauled off and kicked the fire out of this massive dog.

Helpful Hint: Don’t kick a huge, muscular dog. It’ll cause much pain to your leg/foot/etc and NO PAIN TO THE DOG.

Y’all. WHY ME? WHYYYYYY? Why do these things happen to me? Can you tell me?

It’s the Truman Show.

In other non-news, my kids are still hilarious.

Rory and Andy had the following conversation this week when we called him while he was at work.

Rory: Daddy! Are you at the Paper Mill????

Andy: Yeah! I am! (it was loud because he was actually IN the mill so he was shouting)

Rory: Oh! Ok! Are the fans blowing?!

Andy: Yep, they’re blowing.

Rory: What about the duct work? How’s that?

Andy: It’s good.

Rory: Is the smoke still blowing out?

Andy: Yep.

Rory: Okay, good. When I get bigger and I get 4 I’m gonna come be a genius with you at the Paper Mill, okay dad?

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It was the sweetest, smartest, most hilarious and completely over my head conversation I’d ever heard in my life.

Oh, that child is her daddy made over.

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And then there’s Ryder.

She’s turned into quite the terrible two year old. Bless her heart.

This morning her boot zipper seemed crooked to her so therefore…



She’s also become QUITE THE AGGRAVATOR. Like x1000.

This morning I had taken Rory into her room to have a talk about obeying.

Well Ryder kept poking her head in and saying in a bit of a song type rhythm,

“OOOOOOOOO Whoa-wy gettin’ a spankin and I am no-ot.”

She only did that about 21039203 times.

She is also way into the “do it myself” stage. Except she says, “I do’s it mys-selfs.” She obviously loves plurals.

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Please excuse the quality of these photos.

So this week I had the following conversation with my friend, Kristen, and it has tickled me all week.

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Now this isn’t the first (or last) conversation we have had like this, but I just loved it. Anyone else have needy kids that actually want us to parent?! ha!

One more little random tidbit.

I think a lot about what I would choose as my talent if I were ever in a pageant.

I don’t know why I think about this a lot but I just do. I’m a semi-okay singer so that is a definite no. And then I can’t twirl a baton. So no.

I can dance like Beyoncé, but I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t be a great talent to show.


The other day the kids fell asleep in the car on the way home and I FINALLY realized what my talent would be.

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It would be getting my kids out of a car and into their beds without them waking up.

It takes so much focus, strategy, and mind-over-matter that I know it would be a serious contender for the ol’ beauty pageant.

I have a whole map out of this task.

They fall asleep and I rush home so that they aren’t asleep more than 18 minutes. Because 18 minutes is that do or die number. If it is more then you can forget more of a nap from Rory.

BUT. If is LESS than 15, you can forget it too. It has to be between 16-18 minutes.

I park the car in the driveway. I quietly go to the GARAGE entrance and open it up, letting out Jersey and whatever animal is storing up in my house.

Then I go back and get Rory. I slide her buckle out and wrap my arm around her back and press her head firmly against my chest. Then I quickly (but not too quick!) whisk her up into my arms. I then go in through the garage entrance straight to her room. I lay her down without letting go until I can place the pillows so she thinks someone is still holding her.

I leave the room and breathe for the first time in 2 minutes.

Then I go out and get Ryder. Now it doesn’t matter with her about all of this because if she wakes up I simply lay her down and say, “Ryder, it is time to nap sweetheart.”

And she smiles at me and says, “ok momma, come back and get me soon, k?” and just like that she is out like a light.


So there you have it- little known fact about me and my talents.

Have a great weekend, y’all!

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