Friday, December 28, 2012

19 Years and Counting...

Tommy and I were both born in 1973.
We met in 1983 for the first time when I moved to Red Oak, we were 10.
We graduated the same year from the same school but only spoke once in the hallway
when my necklace fell apart between classes.  He stopped to help me pick up the pieces. 
*Empty 30/30 shells... that's another story.  ;)
We met up again our freshman year of college.  We shared a math class that meet every Tuesday and Thursday from 6:00 to 9:00PM.  I was supposed to test out of it, but ended up missing the test
(on purpose) and for a full semester we talked and became good friends.
Our sophmore year we were both single and went out on our first date.
We never stopped seeing each other after that.
 
It did take 10-months before either of us would say, "I love you",
but soon after we were engaged and married in 1993, at the age of 20.
 
*Our first child was due on our 10th anniversary but showed up a week early.
**The twins came 5-years later, but there were 2 so we still sorta have our 10s.  ;)
 
 
 
 
 
My diary entry, 7-years before our 1st date.  (4/1985 - 4/1992)
 
 
 


















 
 
 
 

















Christmas Morning... FINALLY!

On Wordless Wednesday I was packing up the Christmas decorations.
On Thursday I was celebrating our 19th Anniversary.
Today; Friday... I'm trying to catch up.  ;)






"I don't like sleeping next to my brother.  He's so annoying." 
Really?  ;)

It was a Lalaloopsy Christmas for Blondie. 
Or rather a, "Lala Lucy" Christmas.  ;)
...and yes, that's Little Man rolled up in his sleeping bag.  Not ready to wake up. 


Santa brought a giant inflatable ball for the kids. 
It was a huge hit... pun intended. 

Friday, December 21, 2012

December Fly on the Wall





I joined another fun blog party. This one is a glimpse into our everyday life which is basically what I post on my Facebook page, but it's not quite enough to blog about.

Okay, sometimes I subject y'all to way too many details about way too little... but whatever.  

Today I compiled little stories and photos from a full week around the house. It's been a busy week with Karate Girl's birthday and Christmas, so we're not usually partying this much, but it was a fun week to log.

Hope y’all enjoy looking into the Mayhem that is our home.  But remember, I have a big ole flyswatter so don't stick around for too long. ;)

 
So here we go, a week at my house.  :)
 
 
Friday, December 14th:
Company Christmas Party. 
The last set of photos is my progress through the night.  ;)
 
Saturday, December 15th:
 
Today we watched Polar Express and ate Wing Stop... again.  Second Saturday in a row, but no one complained.  I was able to wrap more presents and 4 dozen cupcakes have been made. Tomorrow I'll decorate and we're surprising Karate Girl with a pinata. She's always wanted one and I finally decided beating a pretty butterfly with a bat was okay. So weird, but hey there's candy and cheap toys inside so it's all good. ;)
Shower and bed, my mom duties are done for tonight.
..

Sunday, December 16th:




Today we had Karate Girl's birthday party. She and her friend's loved the piƱata, but probably not as much as the husband. He got a real kick out of moving it just out of reach and then making sure each got one good hit. It worked out great. All the girls got to hit it and the last one busted it open. He'll be in charge again next year. :)


 


Monday, December 17th:







Today was our Girl Scout Christmas party. I've only been volunteering for two months now, but having these girls in my home each week has been so much fun. It's a great chance to spend special time with Karate Girl without the twins and to share in her GS experience and friendships. I love these girls already. :)




Tuesday, December 18th:

We stopped by Sonic between Karate Girl's UIL and Tae Kwon Do practices.
The car next to us drops their convertible top...yes, it's warm again in Texas... Karate Girl says,
"That's so cool!"
I told her I used to have one.
"So you used to be cool?"
She better work on her blocks today. :/

*Later that day Little Man decided he didn’t like the taste of Red Hot’s so he shoved one in his ear to see if he liked it there.  After a while it started to burn.  Dr. Mom to the rescue. 
s you know the test... it smelled of cinnamon.
It didn't take a doctor to figure out what that meant.
I had him follow me to my craft table, laid him on it, pointed my lamp right on the ear canal and found my longest needle nose pliers... I cracked a joke, he giggled and I pulled the little Red Hot straight out.
Before I could sit him up he was thanking me.
"Dude, ears are not for storage. Neither are nostrils or belly buttons."
So he pulled up his shirt and I found a second Red Hot stuck inside his belly button. <sigh>
The three of them are bathed and in bed.
My day job is complete.
"Dude, ears are not for storage. Neither are nostrils or belly buttons."
So he pulled up his shirt and I found a second Red Hot stuck inside his belly button. <sigh>
 


Wednesday, December 19th:  
After successfully extracting Little Man’s legs from his rocking chair spindles I decided to take the opportunity to suggest a bathroom break. 

(I think I can safely say that Blondie is potty trained, but Little Man still has the occasional accident.) 
A few days ago he overshot his mark and peed all over his freshly laundered jeans and undies so I went ahead and stripped him from the waist down to eliminate any chance of needing to wash more clothes today then necessary.
I helped him up on the toilet and just as I was telling him to hold it down… he overshot his mark AGAIN.  This time my foot was the target as well as the floor. 
 




*Later that night, after the husband had worked 4-hours of overtime he sent me this text:

"Ok, I want dinner on the table with a glass of red wine and a naked woman waiting for me. Got it?"
 

Yep, I got it!
 


 








Thursday, December 20th:  
 
Karate Girl was asked to bring 24 cookies to school...
i.e. mama was asked to make 24 cookies. 
 
NAILED IT!!!
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
*And later that night I made more Ninjabread Men cookies and Bo Staffs aka chocolate covered pretzels.  My guys can beat up your Gingerbread men any day of the week.  ;)










...and don't forget to fly on over to these blog as well:


Baking in a Tornado                      

The Insomniac's Dream                            


                        
My Brain on Kids                                                                       
  

Moore Organized Mayhem





Thursday, December 20, 2012

Fools Go Rushing In


Tonight I realized I’m not a badass.  Now please understand I never actually thought I was, but I was able to really get a glimpse at who I am and I’m pretty stinkin’ cool.  

You see a badass only has a small window of opportunity to shine in.  Something extreme has to happen for them to highlight their talent; be it fighting with weapons or words.  Otherwise they have to create the situation to showcase their talents, and in that case they’re really just an ass. 

Well tonight I had an opportunity to shine and in that moment I realized that to shine I’d have to put out someone else light… and from where I was standing that light was pretty dim and sputtering.  Now this supposed badass was doing something wrong and he was doing it to my child… but I knew in that moment it would not have any long term effects on her, but that it would on him.  He looked foolish, he let his emotions take control… and he doused his own flame.  I didn’t need to say a word. 

I did; however, take the time to forgive him and give my daughter a quick hug and kiss and explain why he did what he did.  Yes it was a mistake on his part, but she did need to learn the rules.  It was her first time in this situation so I explained them.  I was calm… I had my thoughts together… and I didn’t react with emotions.  I was pretty stinkin’ proud of myself! 

I’m a mom, and my gut says tear anyone apart who does harm to my child.  But… I’m a mom and I have to teach my kids that self-control is learned, it’s not natural and it takes work.  So much work that many an adult, like the one tonight, still haven’t mastered it.

So from now on I’ll not be striving for badass status.  Instead, I’m going to continue to work on my ability to stay calm and react with self-control.  Oh, I’ll still visit the gun range and I’ll keep practicing my self-defense moves, but when and if I use them, it will be because I needed to… not because I wanted to. 

How to Hot Roll Old School Style

 
I've been hot rollin' my hair since I was a kid, so about 30-years now.  After watchin' some other videos today I've come to realize I've been doin' it wrong all this time.  Dang it!  But I made a promise, and I'm pretty good about keepin' 'em so here goes. 
Just do me one favor... ignore the double chin.  It's not mine. 
I swear I'm just holding it for a friend!
 
... and ignore the repeating... there is a lot.  And hand jivin'. 
 
 
 
 
 

Wednesday, December 19, 2012

Wordless Wednesday: What's on the Kid's Menu Board

What's on the kid's menu...




What's NOT on mom's menu.  <sigh> 
I did finish 2 last night.  ;)


Friday, December 14, 2012

Not a Rock Star Wife


The husband likes Zippos.  He’s not a smoker and he usually uses a striker for his jeweler’s torch, but for some reason he just wants one.  Especially after buying his dad and two brothers some a few years ago… because they are in fact smokers; one day I’ll let y’all hear the song, “Five Smokers in a Singlewide”.  We wrote it one Christmas and his band, at the time, played it at a show or two.  I know… you can’t wait. ;)   

So back to my story; knowing that he likes Zippos, but also knowing it would be more novelty than anything, I thought this would be a great year to get him a customized one.  Something no one would think to get him but one of those things he only mentioned in passing.

I would be a ROCK STAR WIFE! 

*I mean for real, his Christmas list is cargo pants, black dress shoes and argyle socks… WTHeck, not rock star wife gifts!!!
 
Just a few I was eyeballin' for him.  :( 
 

Well last night he comes home all excited about his most recent purchase.  I figured he found something for the kids, maybe even me.  Nope, he proceeds to pull out a monogramed Zippo that he bought for himself… less than two weeks before Christmas and our Anniversary.  WTFrack!?!

This rock star wife was not happy.  I think there was a gut punch and maybe a nipple twist involved.  I can’t remember because I was too busy telling him he was a jerk… I do know there were a few back hands to the chest.

All the while he’s just looking at me like I’ve lost my mind and pleased as punch that he had his Zippo.  

Jerk!  <pout>   He's getting a tie and new shoe laces.

December Secret Subject Swap

 
 
 
My subject is, "biggest cooking/baking fail" and it was submitted by Hungry Little Girl.     

 
This is my first Secret Subject Swap and I have to admit I wasn't sure I could come up with anything, even with such a fun subject.  Not to say that I'm always great in the kitchen, but truthfully I don't attempt anything very hard and I leave most of the baking to the husband because he enjoys it. 
So as I'm trying to figure out what to write I mention the subject to him and immediatly he reminded me of the seafood disaster.  Without hesistation I pulled up the picture I posted on Facebook last year of the offending mess.  <shiver> 
 
 
 
We have some great friends who love to have crawfish boils and on a few occasions have brought those little critters over here for us to cook.  Not only are they tasty but they’re fun to eat. Factor in small children and who needs a movie, we're entertained for hours. 
So one weekend we thought we'd take care of dinner and found an inexpensive seafood 'concoction' for sale at our local grocery store and decided to try it out before we served it to our friends. Thank heavens for that stroke of genius because I'm not sure I could have handled a half dozen kids chowing down on this mess. 
As it was we stared in complete awe and a bit of disgust as the twins gnawed on octopus with the tentacles hanging out of their mouths, curled around their lips and trying to chew what has to be the chewiest meat EVER. You could even feel the little suction cups on your tongue. Ewwww!!!
I was able to pick out the shrimp and some other edible bits but the bulk of it found its way in the trash. 
No wonder it was on sale.  <shiver> 

* And don't forget to check out the other blogs participating in the Secret Subject Swap this week:
http://www.cassandrazcorner.blogspot.com                                                                      
http://www.macdonaldsplayland.blogspot.com             
http://www.menopausalmother.blogspot.com                 
http://www.dinoheromommy.com                              
http://www.rushingforbagels.blogspot.com                

Thursday, December 13, 2012

NO MORE RICE!!!


An 8-minute phone call to the husband yields disaster… on an already disastrous day. 

The phone call was about a friend of his who was killed by a police officer just this morning.  This was shocking to say the least.  My husband knew this man through his job, he always seemed level headed to him and having once been a police officer he would be fully aware of police protocol… but who knows what a person will do in the heat of the moment.  :(

While talking I hear the kids playing in the next room.  The oldest is in there so I’m not worried.  I had made snacks for them and a movie was going.  I figured I could take the time to call instead of text.  I was glad I did, he really needed to talk.  But as we’re speaking I hear something hit the ground and the oldest came running in to tell me, I just held up my hand.  I needed to listen to my husband, whatever crises could wait a few minutes. 

So I hang up, step around the corner and find the kids have thrown their bowls of rice all over the dining and living room floor.  A thousand tiny, wet pieces of grain… some on top of the TV console, others on the piano, couches and a thousand more on the floor.  Some flattened by little feet, others by toy cars.  I find Blondie standing their stark naked because in her excitement she spilled her water.  Little man is soaking wet as well, but because in his excitement he forgot to use the bathroom.

Just as this is all filtering through my head and my plan of action is forming I get a text, a second later the phone rings (two different people) and then someone knocks on the front door.  I was right next to the front door but had to go back to the kitchen to get the keys.  In my haste I slip on the wet rice.  I wish I could say I started to laugh but truth is I was trying to think of the worst cuss word I knew… but I mentally cuss every day now… I’ve run out of the good ones. 

As I open the door I find my friend on the other side with a sack full of food; fish for dinner and snacks for the kids.  Blondie runs up to her naked and hugs her leg.  My friend doesn’t even flinch.  “Hey sweetie, I’ve missed you.  Where are your clothes?”  Blondie chatters and runs off.  I back up so she can see the rice in all its glory, the discarded clothing, the tossed toys.  The bean bags and couches with their bits of rice.  As I start to say something she just says, “Breathe”. 
Batgirl was no match for Wet Rice.

And so I did.  I’m not even sure if I thanked her for the food.   She left with a smile and I locked the door, turned to the mess again and tried to decide what to do next.  First thing, everyone had to go outside.  The oldest was already.  I guess she didn’t want to be put in charge of cleaning since she witnessed it all.  But she got lucky… my phone alarm went off; it was time for Tae Kwon Do.  So I hurried and dressed the kids, and headed to the dojo. 

We’re back now, laundry is going… again.  Kids are naked… again.  Rice is still on the floor.  It’s been over an hour.  I’m guessing it’s dry enough to sweep up.  But I just want to cry.  Its’ not like I haven’t faced worse; heaven knows this is nothing compared to Sharpie on table tops and vinyl trees torn from walls.  But depression doesn’t care.  Depression doesn’t have some scale.  There is no measuring stick or level we must hit before it starts.   

You can factor in stress, but really, depression is a monster hiding in the closet.  My job is to keep pushing the beast back in.  Today he popped his head out.  I let him look around a bit, but then he pissed me off.  It’s Christmas.  I’ve dreamed of the day my kids would run in to my room Christmas morning and tell me Santa came.  I’m not letting him take that away. 

Proverbs 12:25 (NIV) 25 Anxiety weighs down the heart, but a kind word cheers it up.
 
Also… I just got a Tweet from someone I’ve never met asking how I’m doing.  She was worried because of my Facebook updates today.  I actually cried when I read it… tears of joy though.  Thank you friend, God is good. 

Friday, December 7, 2012

Pretty vs. Practical/ May 2006


Pretty vs. Practical 5/17/06 on MySpace

Today as I was putting away my laundry I took the extra time to rearrange my panties into the correct color spectrum. I know most of you must be thinking, "I wish I had that much time on my hands", but I promise it only took a minute.  ;)
Anyway, as I was organizing them I remembered the time when I didn't fold my panties but just tossed them into a basket in one of my dresser drawers. I couldn't remember why I didn't fold them, but I do remember how pretty it looked with all those satiny bright colors. It didn't look at all messy, but still, why didn't I fold them?
Then I remembered, back then my panties were nothing more than two triangles attached by two very thin strings. They were so tiny that no amount of folding would work. It was best to just toss them into a basket and be done with it. Then it hit me!! Really hit me!!

MY PANTIES ARE SO BIG NOW THAT I CAN FOLD THEM!!!

Oh man! When did that happen?! When could I start folding my panties like men’s underwear? You know the fold where you turn the outsides towards the middle and then fold the crotch up towards the top? I went from pretty panties to practical panties and don't even remember when it happened.

I'm feeling old and fat. I need to take a nap after I eat a gallon of ice cream.

Thursday, December 6, 2012

A 20-year Scavanger Hunt... and I lost

I remember being around 21 and looking through my mom’s collection of books for something to read.  She had converted the 3rd bedroom into a library with two walls lined with custom bookshelves.  She and her twin sister started collecting books about 5 or 6 years before.  Oh, they were both avid readers already, but they turned their hobby into a bit of a… well… obsession.  ;)  Between the two of them they could have opened a small bookstore and my cousin and I had joked about it for years, even envisioned a little tea room and calling the place, “Matching Bookends”. 
I think my cousin and I liked the idea more than them.  Not only did we both love to decorate we had also started collecting and swapping books back and forth years earlier.  Admittedly she was the better collector.  She would find her books at garage sales and half price places while I’d buy them full price because I couldn’t wait for the next book.  I remember joining book clubs by mail.  And though I wasn’t trying to hide my collection the only place I could store them was in a couple of empty drawers I had, which might be why my mom had no idea I loved to read so much.
When I was getting ready to move out, just weeks after finishing my associate’s degree and days before my wedding, I remember taking my books to Goodwill; I think I had around 60 or 70.  A small collection but considering the prices I paid… it was a nice chunk of change.  After settling into married life and full time work I went back to reading and was so thankful that my mom and her sister were now buying them up.  Since ‘fun money’ was nonexistent now that I had rent and car payments it was great going through her loot. 
One day, while our moms were making lists of authors, books and which series were complete and which books they still needed, my cousin and I started talking about some of the books we had shared over the years.  Many were pretty forgettable but there was one we had passed back and forth on several occasions.  The book was already in bad shape when she bought it, but by the time we had both read it 2 or 3 times each there was half a cover left and more dog eared pages then not. 
Neither one of us could remember the title but my cousin was sure she still had it.  She was going to mail it to me so I could read it again and see if it was as good as I had remembered it at around age 13 or so.  Days past and I hadn’t heard back from her and no book showed up in the mail.  The next time we saw each other she informed me that it wasn’t in her collection or her mom’s.  So we started to search my mom’s just in case her mother had passed it along to mine… no luck.  That day we decided to keep our eyes open for it but didn’t talk about it again for years. 
In 2003, nearly 10-years later, my folks moved out west and my mom had a room built just for her collection.  I wasn’t joking… OBSESSION!  ;)  To fuel her “passion” every time my aunt, cousin and I came to visit we’d check out garage sales and tiny bookstores.  I was surprised by how many there were but what do you do in the middle of nowhere?  Yep, you read.  So one afternoon we stumbled upon a little wood framed house with a shed full of books and an old lady that had a collection that surpassed my mom’s, course she had longer to collect.  My mom will get there.  ;)
Anyway, as we’re looking through the books my cousin find the one we had searched for years earlier.  We had a good laugh about finding it in the middle of nowhere and talk about buying it, but my cousin (having forgotten that she’d already looked) said she had it at home and she’d mail it to me when she got back.  So we put the book back and left.  A few days later it was the same story, not in her collection, not in her mom’s or my mom’s.  WTHeck!?! 
We both could have kicked ourselves… or each other for having forgotten and because we just stumbled on the place and it was weeks later before we talked about it… we couldn’t remember where the house was.  Side note: my mom lived 3-hours away so it wasn’t like we could just hop in the car and go check… and we didn’t show my mom the book so she didn’t know what to look for… AND we didn’t write the info down because… well I blame my cousin on that one.  (Love you Cuz!) 
So this time we actually take notes.  We try to brainstorm and remember character names, locations, timeframes… anything we can think of.  We narrow it down to a Zebra Romance, the main character being Cat and we’re pretty sure it’s short for Catherine.  We think the guys name is Gray Wolf and we know it’s set in the frontier and she’s been kidnapped by Native Americans… but that’s really it.
Years of Google searches, book review pages, quick trips in to old and new book stores yielded nothing.  I stopped actively looking for it, but my cousin… well… she has that obsessive gene as well.  That and she had the book longer so she remembered it better.  ;)  A few days ago, 11/26/2012 to be exact, she tried researching it again online.  This time leaving out a few things like Zebra Romance Novels and Gray Wolf and bam, she found a blog that had the book cover and a review.  She recognized it instantly and went straight to Amazon and bought two copies.
This morning I open the mail and there it was with a big purple post it note that says: “I Win! :)”  Inside the front cover: “Do Not Ever Give Away!!”  No problem Cuz, it’s been about 25-years since I last read it and 20-years of looking for it.  If it’s total crap I’m still going to pass it down to my kids and tell them how important it is.  Not because of the cover or content, but because it’s one of those childhood/teen/young adult and now ‘mature’ adult memories that I shared with my cousin. 

*Shh, my favorite cousin.  ;)  I love you Marnie!  You ROCK!! 
And I bow down to your greatness!!!


 



 

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

My Year with Brown Girl/ July 2009


I wrote this a few months before the twins were born in response to a magazine ad.  The prompt was: Poultry Pets. It was for a contest, the winner received $100.  They liked my story, but I didn’t win.  However it felt great to write this all down. 


*********************************************************************************

Poultry Pets (due October 9, 2009)

It was early fall when we sold our home, packed up our RV and moved to a small country town. My parents had 20 acres and we parked our RV on an acre of it. We had grand plans. My husband had a job already lined up and without the crushing bills of a mortgage we’d pay off what debt we had and start to save for our own place just a few acres down from my parents. But alas, plans don’t always work out and sometimes we have to make changes as we go.
What was to be 6 months in a 27’ RV turned out to be 14 months of what I like to call “Wondering in the Wilderness”. (Our Fleetwood Wilderness to be exact.) Those 14 months were a real test of our marriage, my relationship with my parents and had me questioning decisions I had made about staying home with our daughter. Questions I had been so sure were right, but was questioned daily by others. To say it was not a good time would be an understatement.
While trying to figure out how we’d get out of the mess that was our new life I started to care for my dad’s chickens, just yards from our RV. He had a scraggly bunch that only produced about 1 or 2 eggs a day. After reading up on chickens and how to raise them I discovered that the problem was simple. He had 5 hens and 2 roosters. That would never do. So my first order of business was to separate at least one of the males until he was big enough to eat. Dad helped and in no time we had the girls looking better and egg production went up to 4 and 5 a day. This worked out well with the new addition of my husband, daughter and I. We were never short on eggs.
It wasn’t long till my 4-year-old daughter decided to name them. First it was Cinderella, she was a pretty speckled hen. Next I would name the two long necked hens the Ugly Step-Sisters. She loved that since neither liked her. (Truth was none of them did. She chased them daily.) The other two we kept simple, Brown Girl and White Girl. You could guess how they looked. And the roosters we never named. We didn’t like them since they harassed the girls so much.
As the weeks turned in to months and I started to care for our little herd, as I called it, I found Brown Girl was always the first to greet me and would follow me as I cleaned out the coup. I expected her near when I feed and watered them, but to follow my every step while cleaning seemed odd. So one day I tested her. I bent down, put my hand out expecting a peck, but instead she stepped closer to me. So I picked her up. I was ready for an attack, but instead she settled in to my arms and looked around the yard as if she was in her rightful place.
I had to laugh because she was the scrawniest of the hens. Not only had the other girls pulled half her feathers out, but she had to fight for whatever food she could get. I was never sure if she laid eggs or not, but was pretty sure she didn’t. After that experience though I made a point to water and feed her first. I always called out her name when I was walking past the yard and I would pick her up every chance I got. It wasn’t long before I would go to the yard during bouts of depression and I would sit on the straw with her in my arms, petting and talking to her. She had a calming effect on me.
After several months of pampering I noticed she was filling out and she started to make a point of announcing when she had laid an egg. This is by no means odd behavior, as most hens like to announce all their accomplishments. But this was different. When I’d step in to the coup she’d hop on her nest as if to say, “See what I did?” And she did well. She would lay the biggest, prettiest brown eggs, and nearly ever day. She became the top producer and I could swear she knew it.
As spring rolled around I started to notice that White Girl was lying on her nest all day. After a bit of research I realized she was brooding and decided to be kind to her and remove the fake eggs and replaced them with a few real ones. Never knowing if it would work. Low and behold one day I went out to feed my girls and saw a chick pop its head out from under her. I was like a little kid on Christmas morning. I yelled in excitement, I took pictures, I ran all over the property telling my daughter, calling my husband and running up to tell mom and dad.
A day later she hatched another, in total she had 5, so we created an area just for White Mama as she was now dubbed. It was a special time for me. My girls were flourishing and I had just found out I was pregnant. My daughter and I watched the chicks grow and as we sat outside the smaller nesting area Brown Girl was always in my lap, patiently letting me pet her. Between the pregnancy, the chicks and Brown Girl, my 14 months didn’t seem so bad. But like our other plans, things changed.
At 12 weeks I miscarried. This was not my first miscarriage, but it was my worst. After two trips to the ER I was lower then I had ever been. Life just didn’t hold much for me anymore. I remember walking to the coup and thinking we would never get out of this mess. That life had been so good until we had decided to take a leap of faith. It felt like we hit every jagged outcropping along the way. And Brown Girl knew it. She stopped bragging about her eggs and started to peck at my feet each day until I’d pick her up. She’d stand in front of the gate and not let me leave unless I picked her up and moved her. She made sure I never ignored her.
One day, just weeks after the miscarriage, I sat down with her and just cried. My daughter was with her grandparents, Tommy was at work, and I was feeling nothing but self pity. Normally Brown Girl would just sit in my arms and look at the other hens, but this time she moved closer to me and put her head right under my chin. I think I cried even harder. She had been going broody and sat on a nest for nearly 8 weeks with no success. In my mind she was mourning right along with me.
It wasn’t long after that one of my husband’s three jobs turned in to full time. He had seen what those 14 months had done to me and decided to take over. He took the job, bought us a house and moved us to a bigger town where I could start over. He would have been happy in the country, but I was too lonely. As much as I loved my girls, I needed human interaction.
Just weeks before our move dogs got in to the coup and killed Brown Girl, it was as simple as that. One day we were comforting each other and the next she was gone. My reaction was strange to me. I’m usually quick to cry, but instead I found myself hugging her lifeless body and telling her it was okay. Starting over is a good thing. I had dad dispose of her body because I couldn’t and that was it. My time with the girls was over. I had no desire to do it any more. I was moving on.

It’s been a year since the miscarriage and I’m happy to say that in less then a month I’m expecting twins, a boy and a girl. My husband loves his job and I’ve met and befriend a lot of people in our new town. Many people will tell you that once you leave a bad situation you eventually look back on it fondly. I guess it’s not been long enough, because I still don’t. Life has changed, for the better, and though my 14 months was the lowest period of my life, Brown Girl made it bearable.