That is so inappropriate!

I was informed by my teenager that my blog was highly inappropriate and I should cease and desist these shenanigans because people she knows read my blog.

At first I couldn’t figure out what she was talking about.   I thought maybe she was referring to this post or maybe this one. (because when I think of embarrassing, those are the two that immediately to the forefront of my mind).  Yet all of those things happened long ago.  I can’t imagine a teenager reading through years of blog posts on this mundane blog in order to find some good dirt on my girl.  Especially since I don’t really blog about her.  I’m trying hard to respect her privacy and encourage trust.

Me:  What are you talking about?

Her:  Your magic? The family planning aisle?  Sheesh!  Teenagers are reading this!  Inappropriate!

So I guess the inappropriateness was a few weeks ago when I blogged about things like library fines, becoming vagabonds, buying condoms, and watching movies with the kids.

Me:  So, my blog isn’t really geared towards teenagers.  I advertise on my facebook to my friends who are all adults.  Remember, I don’t friend minors for this exact reason.

Her:  You do know your blog is public.  It is incredibly easy to find!  I can just search for your name and find it!  (turns out if you search for my name on google, I pop up number 6, but it’s not my blog it’s my pinterest account. Number 6 though, I’m freaking famous!)

Me:  I’m rather flattered that teenagers are searching for me on the internet!  Do you think I should start blogging about things that interest teens.  How about things like “100 reasons texting is better than making a phone call”  or maybe “Justin Beiber, he’s so cute!” or…

Her:  Mom!

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I’m a producer, damn it!

I read the book Radical Homemakers by Shannon Hayes last year and it revolutionized my thinking.  If you talk to Dave and the kids, they might say that it was the day I started reading labels and stopped buying delicious food.  And by delicious they mean things like Fruit loops and corn dogs, frozen burritos and canned chili, Wonderbread and white flour pasta.  It might be categorized as the day that I started referring to certain foods as poison.

Radical Homemakers is about men and women across the U.S. who focus on home and hearth as a political and ecological act, and who have centered their lives around family and community for personal fulfillment and cultural change. It explores what domesticity looks like in an era that has benefited from feminism, where domination and oppression are cast aside and where the choice to stay home is no longer equated with mind-numbing drudgery, economic insecurity, or relentless servitude.  —

It’s really right up my alley.  Because though, it is steeped in information about the food industry because the author is an organic, sustainable farmer, it is also full of families who have turned their backs on the future that our society is making.  They are shunning the conventional and striving for a better quality of life.  I long for the existence that many of the families in the book are creating.

Quite frequently while reading the book, I’d turn to Dave and say “Darn Industrial Revolution!” (with a dramatic shake of my fist). 

Dave:  Am I missing something here? 

Me:  If it wasn’t for the Industrial Revolution we could spend more time together.

Dave:  Yes, we could.  We could also be hungry migrant farm workers.

Me:  That’s not what I mean.  You could be Pa Ingalls and could build us a house out of the forest and I could be Ma and I’d be weaving us straw hats right now. 

Dave:  Or, I could save you 8 weeks of work and we could buy a straw hat at Target for $10.

Me:  That right there, is why I’m a producer and you’re a consumer. 

And for months, every time I debated purchasing something it would be weighed upon the Producer-consumer scale.

Dave:  We’re out of bread.

Me:  Well, we could buy a loaf of bread and be consumers, or I could make it and we’ll be producers.  Let’s go buy flour.  I’m gonna produce this.

or

Mckayla:  We’re out of peanut butter.

Me:  We have peanuts, a food processor and the internet.  Let’s make it!

McKayla:  Can’t we just buy it?

Me:  No, we’re producers, not consumers!

McKayla:  I like consuming.

Me:  Don’t worry, I’ll let you consume your homemade peanut butter after you make it.

It’s been a long road.  I know that the big picture dreams of being a radical homemaker will never really make it to fruition because I can’t seem to brain wash convince Dave to hop on board.   I’ve learned that being a producer, is hard work, and I can’t produce everything alone.  The convenience of running to the store is so very, very tempting (and easy).  It also doesn’t make it any easier that I’m still surrounded by a family of consumers. But, I’m winning them over, little by little.

Yesterday, we were making dinner and everyone was helping.

Dave:  What should I put in the Taquitos?

Me:  Shredded pork, some salsa, onions, and cheese.

Dave:  We’re out of cheese.

Me:  Aw, man.  We don’t really need it for the taquitos, but it will make for some very sad cheeseless beans. 

Dave:  Let’s make some cheese! 

Our first batch of Queso Fresco was born.

Because we’re producers Damn it!

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There’s a first time for everything

Yesterday Dave and I went to one of those high pressure sales pitches.  It’s how we like to spend our Thursday nights.  When you have five kids you’ll do anything for a date night.  We are particularly suited to do these things because 1) Dave is not motivated by guilt 2)He doesn’t cave under high pressure propaganda tactics and 3)I’m cheap.

We very much enjoyed ourselves, mostly because we find ourselves entertaining and we like free stuff!  On the way home we received a text from Mckayla who was home babysitting her brothers:

Her:  Are you guys ever coming home?

Me:  Soon.  Why?  I thought you were all going to bed at 8:30.

Her:  Jake fell off the pool table at 8 and he’s been crying ever since.  (It was 9:40)

Me: What?  You should have called.
Her:  I didn’t want to ruin your evening.  I  was waiting for him to stop crying.  Don’t worry, I did the break test.  He can wiggle his fingers, but he won’t let me touch his arm.

When we made it home Jake was sitting on the couch whimpering holding his arm.

Dave:  How did this happen?

Jake:  Nate wanted me to test the safety of a stunt.   I got onto the bar stool, stood up and jumped onto a big pillow.

Dave:  That sounds dangerous.

Jake:  It was.  When I jumped my arm made a noise.  And now it hurts.

Dave examined his arm and determined we needed to head to the E.R.  McKayla started to cry.  She felt absolutely terrible.

On the way to the ER I used my favorite parenting technique:  distraction.

Me:  Do you want to call Grandma?  (Grandma is always my default when someone gets hurt.  She is so much better at the sympathy than I am)

Jake:  No, it hurts too bad!

Me:  Maybe after this we could stop at McDonalds and get an ice cream. (distraction followed by bribery.  Best parent ever!)

Jake:  I don’t want ice cream.  My tummy doesn’t feel well.

Me:  I’m sure it doesn’t feel well because your arm hurts so much.

Me:  Do you know if you broke your arm, you’ll be the first of my kids to break something?

Jake:  It’s not broken!

Me:  I’ve never broken anything.

Dave:  I haven’t broken anything either.

Me:  You’ll be the FIRST in our family to break something!  How cool is that!

Jake:  ITS NOT BROKEN!!!!

When we got to the hospital we checked Jake in. He was the only patient.  What luck!

A man named “Big Joe”, seriously, that was the name on his name tag, took us back to a room.  (He was a really big guy) They brought Jake an icepack and situated him in the bed.  The nurse started asking us questions.

Her: What’s your name?

Jake:  Jacob

Dave:  Tell her your middle name.

Jake:  Adventure

Her:  How did this happen? Was it on an adventure?

Jake:  I jumped.  Without a parachute.  It didn’t end well.

The doctor came in and looked at his arm and ordered an x-ray, which they brought right into the room.  Only one of us could stay with him.  Dave wanted the extra radiation exposure, so I waited in the hall.  It’s  a good thing I did too, because there was lots of crying involved.  I’m not sure if I could have been the one holding his arm very still while he cried in pain during the long process of taking a picture of his bones.

While Dave was torturing Jake, I posted this picture on Facebook and captioned it: “His adventures have finally caught up with him.  At the E.R”

When I was allowed back in the room, he just about broke my heart with his tear stained face.  I tried my distraction technique again.
I showed him the picture I posted on facebook and told him all of the comments every one had posted in such a short time.  He was very excited about all of the love.

The doctor brought in his xray pictures and determined that it probably wasn’t broken, and if it was it was a very, very, small fracture but decided to cast the arm anyways in case, and await the reading from the radiologist.

Jake:  But it’s NOT BROKEN!

Her:  We’re just going to put a split on it to make it feel better faster.

Pacified, Jake asked if he could keep the xray picture.  She willingly obliged.  He then asked her to autograph it for him.  She was tickled pink.

The caster man came in and offered Jake four different ace bandage colors.  He chose red.  When the man walked out, Jake whispered to Dave.

“It’ll be like Ironman’s arm!”

The transformation into the man of steel wasn’t a very lengthy process, but it wasn’t the most comfortable process either.

Trying the distraction route again:

Me:  OOOO Auntie Red just texted me.  She said ‘Hey, I just saw the pic of the ER…What happened? Is he ok? are you still there?”

Jake:  Text her back ‘yes I am still here.  What are you doing?’

The radiologist spoke mostly in vague broad terms rather than specifics.  It may or may not have a fracture.  It may or may not be bent.  We should follow up with our regular pediatrician next week.  And that was it.  We were discharged.  Jake tucked his xray pictures into his sling (aka secret spy pocket) and we went home.

He had a hard time falling asleep, and somewhere in the middle of the night ended up in my bed.
This morning:

Jake:  It’s going to be a busy day today.  First we need to check facebook and see what everyone said about me.  Then I need to get ready for my phone call with Auntie Red.  After that maybe we could text some people.

I think I’ve created a monster!

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the disjointed post

that is a tad bit embarrassing and if you mention some parts to me during a baseball game, I will laugh and tactfully act like I have no idea what you’re talking about.  (which would be too long for a title)

Jake:  When are we going to move?

Dave:  We aren’t going to move for a very long time.

Jake:  maybe never?

Dave:  I don’t know.  We’ll move when God tells us it’s time to.

Jake:  God is going to get us a new house?

Me:  or a motor home.  Maybe God will say, “Sell your house and all of your belongings and become a vagabond!”  (this was done in my ‘God’ voice) and then we can travel all over the country seeing cool stuff.

Jake:  We’d have to sell all of our stuff?

Me:  Yep.

Jake:  Maybe I could keep some toys.

Me:  Stuff isn’t really part of the vagabond lifestyle. How about this:  I’ll let you keep a library card and a deck of cards.

Dave:  Jacob, we are not going to move for a very long time.

Later

Jake:  I’d like to pray.

Me:  okay.

Jake:  Dear God, please let us be vagabonds, but please don’t ask me to get rid of all my toys.

***

(dave doing our finances)

Dave:  What was this check for $20.80 to KCLS for?

Me:  Oh, that was to the library.

Dave:  For what?

Me:  Um, overdue library books.

Dave:  That’s ridiculous!  Don’t you get email reminders?

Me:  Yes.  Think of it like a small rental fee.  We check out hundreds of books a month.  You say late fee, I say investment in our children’s future.  Or you could think about it as an investment in the library.  I’m sure it might even be tax deductible.  Maybe, my forgetfulness is going to save us money in the long run.

Dave:  That’s not how it works. That $20 is coming out of your budget!

Me:  Wait!  I have a budget?  Okay.  That’s fine.  Instead of buying 6 bottles of wine, I’ll buy 3 boxes of wine.  I’m sure that will save $20.

Dave:  Nevermind.

 ***

We watched Tombstone with the kids last night.  It has been declared the new favorite movie by all three of the older ones.

Mike: Is there a part two to this movie?

Me:  No, this is a true story.  This is all there is.

All three kids: WHAT?!?!

Me:  Next movie, Schindler’s list.

***

My favorite part of the movie:  When Wyatt Earp meets the beautiful actress out on a horse ride.  Queue romantic music.

Mike:  I’m going to the bathroom.  You don’t have to pause it.  I don’t need to see this kissing part.

Marshall:  Me either.  I’ll be right back too.

About an hour into the movie, after 5 minutes of non-stop questions Dave pauses the movie.

Dave:  Okay, Get it over with.  Ask all your questions now.

Mike:  Wouldn’t it be awesome if instead of a shot gun, Wyatt Earp had a portal gun and opened another dimension and aliens came out of it?

Dave:  Does anyone have any questions that pertain to this movie, not a hypothetical movie?

 ***

This may be a little bit too much information, but I’ve recently had my magic removed.   We aren’t trying for a baby, but my body just needed a little break.

Dave:  What’s your plan.

Me:  Think of it like a science experiment.  I’m eliminating this variable and we’ll see if  anything  changes.

Dave:  Um, like implantation?

Me:  No.  There are lots of other forms of contraception.

Dave:  Then we should use them.

Which winded up that I had to go and purchase said contraception because I avoid the pharmacy like the plague.

Dave:  So, is there something you wanted to tell me?

Me:  About what?

Dave:  Well, you bought “Make him last longer and her go faster”.

Me:  Don’t read too far into that.  I was standing in front of a whole display of these things and trying to figure out the per use cost – and do you know these things cost like a $1 each?!

Dave:  Well worth it.

Me:  And I didn’t know which ones to buy and I didn’t want to buy a jumbo pack which would lower the cost to like $0.45 per use, but what if I don’t like ribbed for her pleasure?  and then we’d have 50 of these things left and I’m pretty sure they have no resale value on craigslist, at least, I hope people aren’t buying these off of craigslist. And if I had to throw them away, the per use cost would skyrocket to like $25.00

Dave:  Again, well worth it.

Me:  So, after I’d been standing here for a long time, seemingly engrossed in the condom display, I was rather embarrassed.  What if someone I knew walked by while I’m engrossed on the condom aisle at Target?

Dave:  Don’t be embarrassed because you have a sex life.

Me:  The story I’m going with is either a)we’ve only done it 4 times or b)immaculate conception.  Maybe one of these children could be Jesus’ brother.

So anyways, I was standing there embarrassed for standing on the ‘Family Planning’ Aisle, which should be renamed Anti-family planning aisle.  So I bought the ones that fell right in the middle of the average range.  And this was them. And to tell you the truth I didn’t look too closely at the box.

And then I had to add a few things to the cart so that I wouldn’t just be buying these and I’d have to endure that awkward moment with the checker.  So I added a bottle of wine and some deodorant, bandaids and a package of socks.  Then I artfully stacked them all on the conveyer belt so the contraception was on the bottom.  Then I started the most animated conversation with the checker ever to distract her from what I was buying.  So really, it doesn’t matter what the per use amount was for these things  because I spent $40 on stuff I really didn’t need, well except for the wine.  I needed the wine after that.

Dave:  So you do know that $25 a pop is still much cheaper than a month of diapers right?

***

This week is VBS at our church. The Bible verse for Monday was 1Samuel16:7 People judge by the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.

Mike looking over Dave’s shoulder while he was posting his blog on facebook:  Dad, I think facebook is very much like today’s bible verse.  All these people are judging by things on the outside.

Ouch.

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