Yesterday I mowed the lawn.

What? You want to know why this is an accomplishment?

Well, because I mowed the grass while the boys were here. And Andy was not here.

For nearly six years now it's been difficult to get the grass cut. All summer, every summer, since Drew was born, we've had to plan and dance around each other's schedules and hope it didn't rain on our day off in order to keep the yard from getting out of control, because someone always needed to be with the kids while the other mowed. So if Andy was at work all day Sat. and Sun. it didn't matter how nice the weather was, the grass didn't get cut because I have no one to watch the kids.

But yesterday, I told them that they had to stay in the backyard and play. No going in the house where I couldn't see them, and no trampoline when I couldn't hear them.

It worked! They amused themselves quite nicely with the sandbox and swingset and multitude of cars and trucks that they owned, and I only had to stop once to referee a disagreement.

It takes about an hour and 45 minutes to do the entire yard. This changes everything. Now I can just come home on a weekday evening and cut the grass. No waiting for Andy to get home and starting at 7PM, no putting it off until his day off and praying it stays sunny. Nope. Now I'm free to do the yardwork as I choose, because my kids are getting big.

And now, well, now you think I'm crazy. But oh well.

For awhile now Andy's car (our car, not the cruiser) has been leaking, um, something all over our carport floor. They tell me it's some gasket that's cracked--I want to say the head gasket, but I'm not completely sure. Also, the key sticks in the ignition. It just stays there. It works fine--you just can't get the key out without 20 minutes of wiggling and jiggling.

The majority of our income tax refund was earmarked for car repair. This is a pricey repair, and the car also needs brakes (completed) and struts (not completed). Yesterday we dropped it off to be fixed. Today Andy called to see when we could pick it up. Um, never. Or at least, not for awhile.

Bob, who came highly recommended, fixed the engine problem quite easily. He also changed out some belts and hoses and stuff that were showing wear, free of charge. Of course, it probably really wasn't free of charge, but he said that to make himself sound good. And he needs to be sounding really good, because he broke the ignition.

Andy had told him of the problem with the key, and asked Bob to check it out. Not to fix it, just to look at it and see what it would take to fix it. In looking at it, he broke it. OK, well, I wanted to have it fixed anyway, so he might as well do that, right? That is where the problems begin.

See, this car (2001 Pontiac Grand Prix) has one of those fancy ignitions. The kind where the key is magnetic or electronic or whatever, and the ignition only recognizes your key. Bob cannot fix that. He can't even lay his hand on the parts. Only a GM certified technician (read: Dealer) can get the parts or repair the vehicle. Bob is not a dealer.

So, the car won't start. It can't, for it has no ignition. The dealer is all the way across town. When Andy talked to Bob, he (Bob) admitted that it was his fault, and then recommended a buddy of his to tow it across town for us at a reduced price so we could have it repaired. Um, hold on, fella. You broke my car, and now you want me to pay to have it towed so that I can pay dealer prices for parts and service??! I don't think so.

I was in the middle of something at work, so I asked Andy to call him back and tell him we'd pay for the repair, but there was no way we were paying to have the car towed. I'll get a friend with a trailer to haul it for me before I pay towing charges. That was a mistake on my part, because Andy didn't call back right away (I assume he got a call or something, because he's at work) and now Bob has gone home for the weekend.

Well, I'm not going over there and giving Bob's Automotive one penny until this is resolved. And since Bob has gone home for the weekend, my car will sit there in his garage until he returns on Monday morning. Then we'll talk.

But still, it's going to cost a small fortune to fix the ignition. Heck, it was going to cost me $70 just for a spare key and $120 for a fob! If it costs too much that'll be the money that I have set back for our mini-vacation this summer.

I knew I shouldn't have ordered that camera stuff.

Last night Nicholas was resisting bedtime. He was resisting in a big way. He was probably up at least 10 times after he was tucked in the first time, and he called me in several more times for various reasons. It was really wearing on me, but I was doing my very best to be calm and nice.

The very last time he got out of bed it was to use the bathroom. For the 3rd time. He went into the bathroom carrying his blankie and 2 lions and Rudolph. He was in there for quite awhile before I finally gave up and got out of my chair once again to usher him back to bed.

I knocked on the bathroom door and opened it, and there was Nick, just standing in the middle of the bathroom. He was holding all of his things, and he looked rather annoyed.

"Nicky, go back to bed and stay there. I don't want to have to tell you again."

And then he said something that made me pause, and almost made me laugh.

"Mom, I'm trying very hard not to be mad at you. I am. You need to be quiet and leave me alone before I lose my temper."

Well, that sounds familiar. It sounds eerily like what I say to them when they're jumping on my very last frazzled nerve.

"Oh, you're trying not to be mad at me? You, who should have been asleep 45 minutes ago?"

It was very hard for me not to laugh by this point.

"Yes. I don't like it when you tell me what to do. I will go to bed when I want to."

Oh, really, I thought. I was ready to march him right back into his room with a few stern words and possibly a mild threat about the consequences if he didn't stay in bed this time. But I didn't have to, because the next thing he said was

"And I want to right now. So just leave me alone so I can go to sleep without being mad at you."

So I did. And he did. And all was well until this morning, when he was tired and cranky and didn't want to get out of bed.

Let me tell you, even 3 1/2 year old kids get annoyed when you point out that they might not be so tired had they gone to bed when they were supposed to.

Anyone notice that there are rarely any photos of me? It's not that I don't post them, it's that they're not taken. My mom takes my picture, but that's about it. Andy only seems to want to/think to when I'm looking my most horrible (think old work clothes, sweaty, messed up hair...). The boys are more than willing to take my picture, but it makes me nervous to watch them with the camera for very long.

And, really, I don't enjoy having my picture taken. I never feel like I look nice, or good, or even like I look in real life. When it comes to my looks and my body, I'm not the most confident person in the world. I like who I am, and normally I don't worry too much about how I look. Then I see myself in a photograph, and I think "My goodness. I don't really look like that, do I? Certainly I'm not really that tired/angry/fat/pale/poorly dressed/insert adjective of your choice here."

The boys and I were looking at some photo albums last week, and Drew asked me why there were no pictures of me in it. That's one of the reasons I let them take shots at the farm last week--so they could include me in family life. Because according to our family albums, I barely exist. I also had those photos from the farm on my Flickr page, and I got several comments on the fact that I shared a photo of myself. And what do you know, they were complimentary. Of course, strangers can be as complimentary as they like and be lying through their teeth, but still...

You know what? I don't want to not exist. I want my children, and my husband, and family and friends to remember what I look like now. To be able to see who I am now. And that's why I've decided to participate in one of the Flickr groups called 52 weeks. It's a spin off from the 365 days group, where you commit to posting one photo of yourself taken by you every day for one year. I just don't think I have it in me to do that. That's a big commitment. Somehow I don't think the Flickr police will come after me or anything, but I like to finish what I start. The 52 weeks group asks that you post one self-portrait a week for a year. 52 self-portraits. And I'm gonna do it. It doesn't have to be a full body portrait, or even include your face. As long as you are in the photo in some fashion it counts. And, at the end of the year, I'll have 52 photographs of me, taken and edited and approved by me.

Some of them I'll share with you guys, but probably not all or even most. However, I'm going to create a set on my Flickr page that has them all in one spot, so feel free to browse if you like. So far it only has one photograph, but it'll grow each week. I may even include "rejects" to round it out a little more at first. We'll see.

So anyway, check it out, or don't. I just wanted to let you know. If you see something you like over there, leave me a comment. If you think the photos are horrible, tell me that, too. I wouldn't want the world looking at horrible photos of me!

What a lovely weekend. This may bore you, but I'm doing a weekend recap post. Both so I can share with you how nice it was and so that it will be recorded for posterity. Someday I'm printing this blog up into book form--won't that be neat for the boys to look back on when they're 25?

On Saturday Andy had to work, as usual. But it was OK. Everyone slept well on Friday night and we got up Saturday morning ready to face the day. And a beautiful day it was. The sun was shining and the temp. topped out at 84 degrees. There was a breeze, so it wasn't too hot, and the sound of the windchimes was lovely. Of course, being the weekend, there were chores to do. Over the course of the day I completed 4 loads of laundry, vacuumed the carpets, and mowed 1/2 of the grass (the backyard and side yard and right outside the fence). But, we also saw Spiderman (the real Spiderman!) at Wal-Mart. Drew was thrilled, Nicky not so much, but still fun. Drew had his picture taken with him and everything. We ate lunch from Wendy's outside on the deck. I grilled burgers and potatoes and we ate supper outside on the deck, too. We played on the trampoline, and in the sandbox. We went to the playground. It was a great day.

On Sunday Andy did not have to work. After my little tantrum last month, he arranged with one of the other officers to trade out 2 Sundays this month for 2 Thursdays. So, he was off yesterday and will be off Sunday after next. The plan was for all of us to go to church, but Nicky didn't want to go and I didn't want to deal with making him, so Andy and Drew went and Nicky and I went to Lowes. We had a fun time picking out stuff for the yard, and then he helped me plant and arrange things when we got back home. Nick and I ate lunch outside yesterday, too--Andy and Drew ate at church. After everyone was back home, Andy finished the mowing while the boys played in the backyard and I read a book. Then there was some more trampoline time, some more sandbox time, and another trip to the playground. Pizza for supper because I'm lazy, and again we ate out on the deck. After the boys went to sleep (early, because they didn't have naps) Andy and I played with the cruiser and took the "ghost car" photo up there. It didn't turn out quite the way I envisioned it, but still kinda cool.

And today is Monday. The weekend is over, but it's been OK as far as Mondays go. The weather is still warm and sunny, I took a walk at lunchtime, my errands are all caught up, and my brand-new flash unit is waiting for me at home (according to the UPS tracking page). Tomorrow my new lens should arrive! Drew will have homework tonight, but he won't be doing it until after supper because we're going to need to play out at the wetland, I think. It's too nice to be inside.

I hope everyone's weekend was a nice as mine. Did any of you do anything interesting?

Photographs Drew took:

In the country...

• Spring is official when you can hear the peepers in the pond and the crickets at night
• Summer is official when you can see lightning bugs after the sun goes down
• Daffodils and Iris and Daylilies grow wild in roadside ditches and open fields
• You're just as likely to see a tractor or Spray Coupe or a grain truck on the road as you are to see a delivery truck...
• ...and people don't get too upset when they get held up behind them on the highway
• The smell of fresh turned earth is pervasive in March, and it's one of the best smells ever
• There are more deer than there are dogs...
• ...and you have to really watch for them on the roadway
• Kids can run and play without fear of being hit by a car or being stolen by a stranger...
• ...because the homes are so far back from the road that it's not an issue
• You can shoot a shotgun or rifle or revolver for target practice in your back field and no one calls the police...or even notices
• You can hear coyotes after the sun goes down
• It's possible to while away an entire afternoon throwing rocks in the pond...
• ...and catching frogs
• There are cows, and horses. And other livestock
• There are turkeys
  
• The air is cleaner and clearer and fresher...
• ...and I'm pretty sure the sky is bluer

Guss where I spent the afternoon? I really need to find a farm and move.

Double photo feature this weekend--tomorrow will be "Photography by Drew and Nick", and then I'll cover Photo Sunday as usual.

I don't know if I've ever mentioned it here or not, but Andy has a second job. Not only is he a police officer, but he works security for the local Wal-Mart 1-3 nights a week, depending on his schedule. As second jobs go, it's a good one. Not hard work, regular hours, nice people, decent pay. He gets a paycheck every 2 weeks, and that money is a very welcome addition to our strained budget. He worked last night, and picked up his paycheck. Imagine his surprise when it was considerably larger than usual--4 times what it typically is, plus some.

Apparently Wal-Mart gives an annual bonus to all employees that work a certain amount of hours per week and show a good work ethic (dependable, honest, etc...). There was also a cookout, but he missed that because he napped before he went in. This bonus was a surprise to him, and definitely a surprise to me. A very nice surprise!

So, we could put the money towards bills. I definitely have plenty of those. We could use it to fix the car, but the tax refund (that I also got today) is marked for that, and what's left after fixing the car will pay off the last little bit that I owe on my camera. We could invest it. We could put it into a college savings fund for the boys.

But I think we're going to spend it.

We work hard, and most of the time it just doesn't seem like enough. We have debt, not through reckless spending (well, not the great majority of it), but as a result of medical bills and job losses and the like. The majority of our paychecks are spoken for before we're even paid. Our tax refunds for the past few years have been used exclusively to pay off medical bills or vehicle repairs. Yes, we eat out occasionally. The boys get new toys and I'll buy the occasional pair of blue jeans for myself. But mostly we're very frugal.

We talked about it, and this time we're going to be frivolous and just enjoy the windfall. Talk about irresponsible. My stomach is a little uneasy just thinking about it.

Some of the money will go towards one new lens and a flash unit for my camera. This is a luxury for me, but hopefully it'll help out in the long run by allowing me to make a little income with the camera. Some of the money Andy is going to use to buy new tennis shoes and new boots. And the rest is going to be spent on a short trip this summer to take the boys to Mammoth Cave and Kentucky Down Under. We've never been on a family vacation, not even a weekend trip, and this gives us a chance to do that without stretching the budget or putting us further into debt.

So, there. I'm being fun and whimsical instead of practical and down-to-earth. And it feels kinda good.

Alison tagged me again today, for another meme of sorts. This isn't your typical meme, with a list of questions to ask or a specific number of points to make about a particular subject. This one is more open to interpretation, and alot more serious than most that I see floating around the blogosphere. I'm supposed to use the phrase "Real Moms..." as a writing prompt, and finish the sentence. And then elaborate on that sentence. I've seen several other people write on this topic, and the answers have taken the form of bulleted lists and one line phrases. Here is my take on just what a real mom is:

Last week, Susan left a comment about Drew's name. She has a son named Andrew, and mentioned that she thought she was being original calling him Drew rather than Andy. Well, it's still pretty original. I haven't run across another Drew (not a boy, anyway) in the past 5 1/2 years.

But her comment got me to thinking about names, and why people choose the names they do, and how we chose the names for our boys.

When I was pregnant with Drew, we elected not to find out the gender of the baby at the ultrasound. It drove some (OK, alot) of people crazy that we didn't know, but we really wanted it to be a surprise. It made things difficult in some ways, because these days everyone knows, and nearly all newborn sized clothing is either pink or blue. Not much neutral stuff. Drew was born owning LOTS of onesies in yellow and white, and not many real clothes. Not that it mattered much--he was into 3 month sized clothes inside of a few weeks, anyway...

At any rate, we didn't know the gender with Drew. But I was pretty sure he was a girl, mostly because I desperately wanted a boy. I had a girls name mostly chosen--Cady Elizabeth or Cady Alissa, depending on if I could bring myself to break the family tradition of giving the daughter the mothers first name as a middle name. The boys name was more difficult, as Andy insisted that we had to use his middle name somewhere because it's a family name. OK, fair enough, but there was no way I was naming my son Boyd. So that had to be the middle name, and we absolutely could not agree on a first name--not one that went with Boyd and our last name that we both liked. Andy wanted names like Rowdy and Dillon and Remington (see a theme here?) and I like more traditional names. So, we went to the delivery room figuring it wouldn't matter anyway because I was so sure it was a girl. It was a healthy, 9 lb. 1 oz. baby boy. And Andy decided on the spot that we should make him Andrew Boyd II, and call him Drew, which was something we had toyed with much earlier in the pregnancy. And Drew fits him perfectly. Sometimes I'll call him Drewie, or Drewster, and my dad calls him Drewbie quite often.

My pregnancy with Nicholas was somewhat unexpected, so we weren't all prepared in advance with names and such. Again, I desperately wanted a boy, but I was certain it was a girl. I needed to know the gender this time, for my own reasons. And I don't think Andy really liked the idea, but he went along with it because I was not a happy camper during that time. I had morning sickness for forever, I was still off balance from the shock of being pregnant again, and he was more than willing to do anything to keep me happy. But it didn't matter, because even after they told me that the baby was a boy I was convinced that they were wrong and it was a girl. I got to name this baby--again, anything to keep me happy. Whatever I wanted, Andy said, as long as he didn't absolutely hate it. Again, I came up with a girl name pretty easy. This baby, if it was a girl, was going to be Caroline Grace. Or possibly Caroline Alissa, depending on that tradition thing again. I settled on Nicholas for a boy, but was stuck for a middle name. I chose Tate for a middle name after seeing a movie with Tate Donovan in it, and my plan was to call him Tate. Until several people pointed out that he'd probably become Tater somewhere along the way, and I formed this picture in my head of a big bellied redneck with overalls and a trucker hat and a big wad of tobacco in his lip. Not that that's horrible if that's you, but not exactly what I pictured my future son to look like. So Nicholas it was, but again, it didn't matter because I was certain he was a girl. Then, 2 days after Drew turned 2 I delivered a 8 lb. 2 oz. baby boy, and Nicholas he was. Sometimes he's Nick, or Nicky, or Nick Nick, or Nickelodeon, and occasionally I'll call him Rooster (I've forgotten the reason why, but whatever it was it stuck) but Nicholas is still my favorite version.

So there. Whether you were interested or not, now you know where my kids got their names. How about you? Any interesting stories?

Alrighty. First off, Nicholas is going to live. Was there ever any doubt? The Dr. says the lump in an Osteochondroma. The link there has really detailed information, but if you're just not feeling the doctor speak I'll give you an overview. Basically, it's a tumor made of both bone and cartilage. It's benign. It normally occurs in long bones, like the femur and humerus, and it normally occurs in children over the age of ten and in young adults. So, Nicholas is a rarity. Not so rare, though, because our Dr. saw a 4 year old boy with this exact same thing just a few weeks ago. Same bump, same location. And they jumped through hoops diagnosing it, so the did all the work for us! Basically, we just monitor it, and it should stop growing when he stops growing but will not go away. If it starts to hurt, or if it grows faster than Nick grows, then we go back in and re-evaluate. So, there. Big sigh of relief!

Now, I gotta tell you, I'm feeling a tiny bit popular over here. And trust me, that's not normal! I've been tagged, by more than one person, for a song meme. I know that Susan tagged me, I know that Alison tagged me, I think perhaps Briana tagged me (ok, I just looked and she didn't, but now that I've gone to the trouble of making a link I'm leaving her in), and I know someone else got me, too. But I can't remember just who it was. At any rate, I'm supposed to list 7 songs that I am "into" right now. So, here goes:

1. How 'Bout Them Cowgirls, by George Strait (of course, I'm always into something by George!)
2. Lips of an Angel, by Hinder
3. Far Away, by Nickelback
4. Patience, by Guns-n-Roses (yes, dating myself. but I love this one!)
5. How to Save a Life, by The Fray
6. Irreplaceable, by Beyonce (only because listening to the boys sing "to the left to the left, everything you own in a box to the left" from the backseat of the truck is hilarious!)
7. Baby Girl, by Sugarland

So, there. 7 songs I am "into". I am not all trendy with an ipod or anything. I rarely even listen to a CD. I just listen to the radio, whatever music genre I'm in the mood for, and hope that a song I love comes on. Or that I will love a new song that I hear. I'm not tagging anyone this time, but if you do the meme anyway please leave a comment so I can check it out!

I would like to report to everyone that the boys seem to be healthy again. They are in the living room arguing over a toy even as I type. Drew is still on antibiotics and Nick still doesn't have much of an appetite, but I'd say the worst is over. Except, while my sinuses seem to be clearing up nicely with the antibiotics that I received, Nicky's rotavirus seems to have found its way into my intestines despite the many, many times I've washed my hands over the past few days. Tons of fun, let me tell you. Hopefully since I'm bigger it won't last as long for me.

And, lastly, Drew has brought home a pamphlet for his final fundraiser of the year. They are raising money for a school walking trail and for playground equipment. He's selling scented candles, dip mixes, and air fresheners. It's all "Home and Garden Party" brand stuff. If anyone is interested (I'm talking to all my relatives out there) let us know. He needs to sell 12 items to receive a movie ticket for the movie of his choice at the local cinema, and if his class averages 12 items per kid they win a popcorn party.

OK, I'm off to prepare tonight's pizza feast, to be eaten by everyone but me.

Alright, someone tell me what that lump is on Nicky's ribcage. It was not there yesterday but was there first thing this morning. It is hard. It does not move--it actually feels like it's attached to a rib. It's between pea-sized and marble-sized.

So, tell me what it is. Or at least tell me that you know for certain that it's no big deal.

If it's not gone by tomorrow he's going to the doctor.

Illness has invaded our household. Drew has strep throat, Nicholas is down with what I thought was a stomach virus but is probably Rotavirus caught from a little boy at the babysitter, and I have a sinus infection or something that's got me feeling pretty crummy. Andy? He's fine, but he's at work.

We all have medication, and we're going to try our best to be better by Monday. But right now this house is a pretty crabby, unpleasant place. Stay away, you guys, and stay healthy.

Photos tomorrow, I'm not sure what yet but likely something cheery in a lame attempt to help my mood.

I mentioned in passing yesterday that there was an accident that happened a few years back that made me more than a little nervous about what happened yesterday. I have nothing else really to write about today, so I'll tell you about that.

Oh, and Drew is fine, in case you were wondering. He has an impressive bruise/burn from the seat belt on his neck/collarbone, but mostly he's just excited to tell everyone he sees about "the crash". You'd think his dad was a hero for hitting that guy.

OK, so, Friday, January 11, 2001. Drew was almost 6 months old. At that time Andy worked in another town and had to pass the sitter's house on the way to work, so he took Drew there each morning. Both of us left the at the same time that morning, between 6:45 and 7:00, each of us heading in the opposite direction. Andy was driving a Chevrolet S-10 extended cab pickup. Drew rode rear-facing in the passenger seat, with the airbag on that side turned off.

It had rained the night before, and it was cold, and there was ice on the deck. I drove to work without incident. I had probably been at work for 45 minutes when Trish called, and she said "I don't want you to panic, but Andy and Drew aren't here yet. And Paul says there's an accident up the road--a bad one." Well, of course I panicked. I called the emergency room, but they hadn't admitted them. They suggested calling the EOC, so I did. "Yes", they said, "there was a vehicle matching that description in an accident this morning. The victims are en route to the hospital now." And that was all they would tell me. Turns out that the police had tried calling me at work the instant they arrived on the scene, but our answering service told them they'd have to call back during business hours--after 8 AM. That's why I wasn't notified immediately.

Anyway, I left work in a rush and got to the emergency room just as the ambulance was pulling in. I ran inside and told the girl at the desk what I was there for, expecting to be taken straight back. No. She insisted I sit down and fill out paperwork. I made enough of a fuss that they brought me my baby, but wouldn't let me back to see Andy until all the admissions forms were filled out. Drew was unhurt except for a scratch on his forehead (windshield glass) and a black eye--he was rear facing and they thought perhaps he hit himself in the eye with his fist upon impact. He was also vomiting consistently, and they thought perhaps shock was causing that. He threw up everything I put into his stomach for nearly a week!

So I'm sitting at the admissions desk with a crying, vomiting infant, and filling out paperwork. The girl rolled her eyes at me no less than 3 times. But I finished, and finally they let me back to see Andy.

I have no words to describe how I felt when I saw him. I heard him first, because he was hollering for pain medication, and finally asked them to please just knock him out. They refused. He had a dislocated/fractured right hip, cuts on his hand from putting it through the windshield, and bad gashes on his forehead and chin. Plus many, many cuts and scrapes.

A co-worker arrived at the ER to check on us, and after Drew was examined and pronounced fine she took him out to the babysitter for me so that I could focus on Andy. I hated more than anything putting him in that bloody car seat and sending him away, but I really couldn't care for them both and I had no food, diapers, or anything for him.

Why was the car seat bloody if he wasn't hurt? Well, that's why Andy was so injured despite his seat belt and airbag. When he hit a patch of black ice and lost control of the vehicle, he realized he was going to hit a tree and there was nothing he could do about it. In an effort to protect his child, he leaned over to place himself over Drew. In doing this he leaned out of the protection of the seat belt and airbag. The dashboard hit his knee and drove his femur straight back through his hip socket. His hand went out through the windshield and pulled back in, slicing 2 tendons. His face made hard contact with the stereo, resulting in a gash on his forehead and a major one on his chin--down to the bone. And then, before rescuers arrived, he attempted to get the car seat out of the truck because he was afraid of fire.

So, Andy had to be taken to Vanderbilt by ambulance because there were no doctors here who wanted to take on his injuries. I did not go with him, because the doctors said that because of Drew's instability (the constant vomiting) I shouldn't travel with him long distances--I needed to stay within a few miles of an ER.

Andy's parents and some friends went to Nashville. Saturday morning the doctors at Vanderbilt did surgery to place a metal plate in his hip and to repair the tendons in his hand. My parents came down and stayed with me and my normal-except-for-the-vomiting baby. It was quite stressful.

They released Andy from the hospital on Monday, and I left Drew with the sitter again so that I could drive down and pick him up.

He used a walker and then a cane for months until his hip was healed. He had physical therapy until well into May for his hip and for his hand. He was fully out of work (with no sick time or paid time off, mind you) until March and only worked part-time through May to accommodate his physical therapy schedule.

We have insurance, but the expenses were huge, and out of pocket we paid nearly $13,000 before it was all said and done, including physical therapy.

Here is the truck. Obviously it was totaled:

And that is why I got a bit nervous when Andy announced he'd had "a little accident". Because when I saw him in the ER, the first thing he said was "I'm sorry--I had a little accident. Is the baby alright?"

Well, I've been ready with a blog post in my head since about 9:00 this morning. Every time it seems I have it ready, something else happens that I could write about. And most of it isn't the greatest stuff, either. Enough, already. I have plenty to write about.

My original post was going to be about report card day. Because today is report card day. The plan was for Andy to pick Nick up at the babysitter and for me to meet Drew at school, talk with his teacher to go over his report card, and perhaps visit the book fair.

It didn't happen that way at all.

At 10:40 my cell phone rang. "Is this Drew's mom? This is Nurse Donna, at Drew's school. He's in my office right now, he says his throat hurts and he does have a bit of a fever..."

A - Available/Single? Nope. Married 8 years now...
B - Best Friend? I have 4 best friends, all special in their own way: Annie, Mike, Jeff, Mark.
C - Cake or Pie? Cake. Chocolate.
D - Drink of Choice? Big Red
E - Essential Item You Use Everyday? My computer
F - Favorite Color? Green
G - Gummy Bears or Worms? Worms
H - Hometown? Lebanon Junction, Kentucky
I - Indulgence? Candy
J - January or February? No preference
K - Kids & Their Names- Drew and Nick (Andrew and Nicholas)
L - Life Is Incomplete Without? Books
M - Marriage Date? June 12, 1999
N - Number Of Siblings? 2 baby brothers
O - Oranges or Apples? Apples
P - Phobias/Fears : Needles
Q - Favorite Quote? Just keep swimming...
R - Reason to Smile? Sunshine and Springtime
S - Season? Summer
T - Tag Three People: Mom, Natalie, Peggy
U - Unknown Fact About Me? I don't like to drive. I really don't like to drive.
V - Vegetables You Don't Like? Most of them. It'd be easier to list those I like--Corn and Lima Beans.
W - Worst Habit? Biting my nails
X - X-rays You've Had? Wrist, twice.
Y - Your Favorite Food? Pizza, Cheeseburgers.
Z - Zodiac Sign? Leo

Today I visited Drew's Kindergarten class to talk about my job. It wasn't a career day, really, because all of the careers aren't visiting at once. Rather, there's a guest speaker or two every day for a week or so.

So, I arrived not really certain as to what I was going to say. I'm pretty good at explaining my work to adults, but explaining it so that a 5 year old comprehends it is an entirely different matter.

Turns out I worried for nothing, because Drew had already announced to his class that his mom cuts up dead horses for a living. Yeah. And nothing I had to say about what my job is really like had any effect on them whatsoever, because all they really wanted to know is what it looks like inside of a dead horse. Technically, yes, my job consists entirely of cutting up dead animals. But not like it sounds. And yes, I am well acquainted with the insides of a variety of animals. But that's not my "career".

At any rate, the teachers asked some good questions, and the kids just asked my several variations of the same question, which was "what does a dead horse look/smell/feel like?".

All in all the talk went well, in that I managed to impress all of the kids. Whether or not they learned anything is another story, but at least they think I'm cool.

Andy's going to talk to the class on Friday. Let's hope Drew didn't tell everyone that his daddy shoots bad guys, which is his standard description for what Andy does, no matter what we tell him. I can only imagine the questions they would ask!

I really have nothing to say today. I can't think of anything worth putting down here--my mind is too distracted by the 70 degree temperatures outside. So, I'm going to share with you a neat idea that came to me in one of my photography newsletters. Or perhaps a photography magazine? Or maybe it was a scrapbooking magazine? Who knows? I guess I should have bookmarked it or something, so I could give credit where credit is due. At any rate, know that this isn't my original idea.

A really cool, easy way to prepare a time capsule of sorts is to purchase a few of the disposable cameras. They're super cheap these days--I picked up a 3 pack for less than $10 this weekend. Then, just fill them up. Take photos of family, and friends, and the gas station sign. Pictures of cars and billboards and menus at restaurants. Take at least one photo that shows the date--a newspaper or a bank clock would work. Then, just put the cameras away. Stick them in a drawer or a closet or up high on a bookshelf. Wait a few years (best if you forget about them for awhile) and then have them developed. 5 or 10 years from now (or even a year or two--however you prefer) it will be really fun and interesting to look back at those photos, to see how people have grown and changed in just a few short years.

Like I said, I purchased a 3-pack. I gave a camera to each of the boys after taking the first photo on the roll of them holding yesterday's newspaper, Drew on Drew's camera and Nick on Nick's. That way I'll know who took each set of pictures (I guess I could just write their names on the cameras, but what fun would that be?). The other camera was mine. Andy was at work, but I saved some spots on my camera for him. Then, well, we took pictures. Of each other, the cats, the house, and the vehicles. Of town, the school, and the playground. We filled up the cameras, and I'm putting them back in the far corner of the top shelf of my closet. I'll completely forget about them in a day or so, and I won't run across them for a long, long time--in putting them there I found stuff I haven't looked at since we moved in 7 years ago. Then, one day in a few years I'll find them, and have them developed.

And it'll be totally cool. Don't you think? You should do it, too.

Some of these photos obviously convey a spring-like feeling. Others are a little more subtle, but pay attention to the green of the grass. Oh, and it was 60 degrees or warmer when I took each of them--the day I took the duck photo it was 73.

Happy spring, everyone, and don't forget to set your clocks up if you haven't already!

I have learned that there really isn't a good way to photograph a bruise. Trust me when I tell you that this injury is much more spectacular in person.

So, my klutz of a child has done it again. He had some help this time, but normally he doesn't. I was trying to recall, and it was about this time last year that he tripped over a rake and scraped his face all up on the sidewalk. And he turned over a kitchen chair this past fall and cracked his head on the kitchen floor. And he got hit in the eye at the babysitters by a falling kitchen set (that he knocked over) and had a cut and a bruise.

This time he was climbing through the dog door set into the garage door at a friends house. Drew was behind him, waiting to crawl through. Just as Nick got through his brother reached through the flap and grabbed his foot. So, instead of standing up and running away as he intended, he fell headfirst into the Ranger, which, unfortunately for him, had the tailgate open. He hit his head on the very corner of the tailgate. I did not see it happen, because I was facing away. My friend did, and all he said was "Oh! Wow".

Nicky didn't even cry for 2-3 minutes, even though he had a spectacular lump growing on his head. Then he cried, hard, for just a tiny little while. We put some ice on it, and within 5 minutes he was running around with the dog like nothing had ever happened. I figured everything was fine.

They played for a few more minutes, and then we headed into town. We stopped by the bank and then headed home--the trip took about a half an hour.

We got home and came into the house, where Nick promptly threw up on the kitchen floor. That concerned me some, but I couldn't remember if I was supposed to panic yet or not. So, I did what all kids with great parents do--I called my mom. She handed me off to my dad, who told me that as long as he wasn't continuously vomiting and he wasn't groggy and unable to stay awake, he'd be fine. And since he was neither of those things, I figured he was alright.

He slept soundly all night and is playing with Power Rangers right now, so I'm assuming he'll survive. He has quite the impressive lump on his head, though (the photo was taken last night, it's bigger now but he won't consent to another photo) and has asked for Tylenol twice already.

This kid will be the death of me yet. Drew, for all his daredevil stunts, has never gotten hurt or scared me the way Nicholas seems to on a regular basis!

It's barefoot weather!

If you know me in real life you're probably already aware of this, but I hate shoes. OK, let me rephrase that, since I recently wrote an entire blog post on how much I love shoes. I hate to wear shoes. As much as I like to buy the things, and I suppose it's fine to wear them out and about, I don't much like to have anything on my feet.

The minute I get home my shoes come off, and usually the socks, too. And unless I leave the house (meaning, get in the truck and drive away, not just go outside) they don't go back on. The only exception would be if I'm using the lawnmower or tiller--then I throw some old tennis shoes on. I am barefoot to get the mail, to work in the flowerbeds, to walk next door and visit the neighbors. I've been known to go barefoot into town, if I'm only going to the drive-thru window somewhere. At a friends house, I'll usually shuck the shoes but not the socks--but if it's even remotely warm outside I'm probably not wearing socks, anyway.

Perhaps my saddest day at work was when they outlawed open-toed shoes. *sigh* No more sandals to work. No more Crocs. I have to close my feet into suffocating shoes all day long.

But today, oh, today... It's 73 degrees right now. Who in their right mind stays at work on the first absolutely perfect day of the year? Well, I suppose if you have to you have to. But I didn't have to. I finished my work and scooted out of there before 10AM, and I've spent the past few hours happily working in my yard. Wearing my favorite old worn out Levi's and a t-shirt. The sun was shining, the breeze was blowing, and birds were singing in the trees. The peepers are peeping in the ditches and the pond. And I'm not wearing any shoes!

Now, I've started a load of laundry in the washer. I already folded the clothes in the dryer. The house is straight, and the windows are open so the breeze can blow through. I have 2 1/2 hours before I have to pick the boys up, and I think I'll spend it outside. Barefoot.

Oh, and before anyone asks...Yes, my toes are painted metallic purple with turquoise glitter. My toenails are always, always painted, usually some unusual color. I own over 60 bottles of polish, just for my toes!

OK, so, tell me what you think. Do they resemble me? Or, you can just tell me what an absolutely adorable child I was. That would work, too...

There were a few things that I forgot to mention earlier, and one thing I didn't even know about earlier, so you're getting a bonus post. And a bonus photo. Nice, huh?

First off, I meant to tell you this morning about this cereal I got for free for agreeing to tell you guys my opinion about it. It's called Nature Valley Crunchy, with Granola Bar Pieces. I have the Oats 'N Honey flavor--it also comes in Cinnamon. I gotta tell you, I was pretty sure I wasn't going to like this stuff. It's got "healthy" written all over it, and I'm very much a fan of either plain cereal like Cheerios or kid cereal like Lucky Charms. Actually, it's not bad. I ate a handful of it right out of the box, and it's sweet, and crunchy, and pretty good. The little granola bar pieces annoyed me--they got stuck in my teeth. I had another bowl last night with milk, and honestly I liked it better dry. It didn't stay crunchy as long as I would have liked in the milk, and the little granola bar pieces seemed to be glued into my teeth with the addition of the milk. I think I would buy it if I were trying to be all healthy, but I'll probably just stick with Cheerios for the time being. I have a feeling this stuff is expensive, but I haven't seen it in the store here so I couldn't tell you.

Secondly, Green Mountain Country Mama inquired about the weather here. I suspect, but am not sure, that the question was prompted by the photos of my kids running around in light jackets. Well, for all you people in the frozen north who don't want to hear how warm it is, stop reading now... Today it was 64 degrees with cloudless skies and a warm breeze. Tomorrow it's supposed to be cooler, like 58ish. I hear rumors of 70 by Saturday. Ahhh, spring. I love it.

Also, I read the boys all of your comments and they were thrilled! I'm considering letting them guest-post in the near future. Won't that be a treat?

And last, but certainly not least, one of my real-life friends, Dr. Deb (she's also a co-worker of mine) wrote the inaugural post on her new blog today. You guys definitely need to check her out--I can guarantee she'll have some wonderful stories to tell. She's alot of fun, and she's got a great family. Please visit her at The Old Cow Doc (which is just what she is! well, the cow doc part, anyway...). Just promise me you won't listen if she says anything about me :-)

Alright, I'm outta here. See you guys tomorrow.

Gah, I hate when I do that. I sit down to make a mention of something and everything in my head just flows out. It always helps, and then I just feel like a big whiny baby later on. At any rate, thank you all so much for your words of support--it helps more than you know just to realize that I'm not the only one feeling the way I feel. And Andy does read the blog, so perhaps reading just how desperate I'm getting will prompt him to do something about it, if he can. But now, now it's done, and it's time to talk about other things.

I posted the photo of the boys and their new haircuts yesterday, but I think it was overpowered by the accompanying post. So, here's another view of Drew's hair. He asked last night what the "computer friends" thought of it, so let me (him) know your opinions, please. I guess a few of the kids at school have made fun of him, although most have been supportive and one kid even got the same haircut. I feel bad for him, but he says that he still likes it so obviously it hasn't made too much of a difference. I only hope he doesn't end up in another fight...

I also wanted to mention what a math whiz this kid is. They've recently begun addition and counting, and he is so good at it. I have to say, I'm a little jealous. I've never been good at math. Last night he'd walk through the kitchen and say things like "Hey, Mom? Do you know that 12 plus 3 is 15? It is. And 9 plus 5 is 14." Any number combination (under the number 20) that I tossed at him he added, in his head, in under 5 seconds. And he got them all right. I am amazed. I don't guess I should be surprised--his daddy is great at math and chemistry.

And in other news, Nick asked that I tell everyone that you cannot turn into a Pop Tart just by eating alot of them. He's testing the theory daily, and is still a little boy.

Andy and I had a discussion last night. Actually, I talked, and he listened. I even raised my voice a little bit, although that wasn't really directed at him. It was more out of frustration. I am not good at expressing my emotions--no matter how I feel it always seems to come out as "angry", even if the true feeling is frustration or concern or sadness.

I am tired. I am so tired. I can sleep for a full eight hours and wake up completely exhausted. I never feel rested, I never feel like I'm at my full potential. I have a headache all of the time, and I'm irritable more often than not.

I am being worn down from the weight of the responsibility that I carry all the time. Andy works alot. He's almost never here when the rest of us are. His time off is inevitably a weekday when everyone is in school or at work. And even then he's back and forth to court. I thought it would be better when they gave him a day shift, but he's working Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday from 8-6. So still, no break for me.

I am tired of being in charge. I am tired of being the responsible one. I realize that Andy works hard. I really do. I know that his job is important, and for the sake of his career he needs to be available. I know that you have to start at the bottom and work your way up, and that someday it will be better. But that doesn't make me any less tired.

I pay the bills. I am in charge of the banking and budgeting. I fix all the meals, I do the laundry and change the bedsheets and keep the house clean. I mostly do the dishes. I do most of the vacuuming. I do all of the grocery shopping. In the spring/summer I do at least half of the yardwork, if not more. And on top of all that, I'm the mom. Shopping for clothes? My job. Notes to school? All me. Discipline? Definitely me. Oh, and did I mention that I work a full-time job, too? When I am not at work I am with my kids. All the time. It used to be I could get out to the farm for an hour or two here and there, but once he hit this new schedule it's just not to be. I am never alone. Never. I can't even take a shower without someone coming into the bathroom to ask a question. I do not have family nearby to watch the boys for me, and I can't afford to pay a babysitter extra just so that I can sit at home and be by myself.

And last night, well, last night I had it. I worked all day and then picked up the boys. They were awful. Talking back, picking at each other, throwing toys, etc... The final straw landed on the camel's back and snapped it right in half when I told Nicky to go and sit on his bed until he could be more pleasant and he told me that he didn't like me anymore. That he didn't even love me any more. That he wished Daddy was always here and I would go away.

Something is going to have to change. I don't know what or how, but I need a break. If Andy would be home one Saturday a month it would help. If I could know for sure that in 6 weeks I would have the house all to myself for an entire day, that would help. Just something.

I told him all of this. The problem is, I don't know that there's anything he can do about it. He has no control over the schedule at the police department. I knew when he decided on this career path that it would be crazy, with weird schedules and long hours and stress and worry. I agreed to it, to support him and do my part. But I didn't know it would be like this. I didn't count on it being so hard.

And I'm tired. I'm so tired. And what's worse, it makes me so angry at myself to be so self-pitying. But I can't help it. And I don't know what to do.

I have several things running around in my head today, but nothing that I think would stand as the sole topic of a blog post. So, it's time for another bulleted list.

• Yesterday I cut Drew's hair. All of it. Off. The child is bald. Now, don't get all concerned--he wanted it that way. As a matter of fact, I tried to leave it a little longer but he wouldn't stand for it. He wanted it just like Daddy's hair, and that's what he got. He loves it. Me, not so much. I like it short, but not quite this short. But, it's hair. It's his hair, to do with as he pleases (within reason). And, it'll grow. Photos are forthcoming, as soon as I can get him to slow down long enough for a few shots.
• Nicky's new obsession is Pop Tarts. He's as addicted to Pop Tarts as he used to be to Cheetos. Yesterday he ate 7 cherry Pop Tarts between breakfast and bedtime, and at bedtime he requested another. I said "Nicky, if you eat one more Pop Tart you will surely turn into one!" Do you know that the child believed me? Andy and Drew jumped right on the bandwagon, declaring that they could see him getting flatter. He said "Mom, tell me you're just joking. Tell me!". Finally I told him I was kidding, and got him a Pop Tart. Watching him take a bite was the funniest thing I've seen in a long time! And he only took one bite, deciding to see if he was a Pop Tart when he woke up in the morning before he ate any more.
  
• The boys and I drove out this afternoon to look at a house we'd seen advertised for sale in the local newspaper. It looked perfect in the paper--exact right location, not too big, in good shape, etc... But there was no price listed, it just said "reduced". I drove out there, and it was just where I'd like to live. It's in the right school district. The house looks pretty, and well kept. There's an outbuilding. There was a box in the front yard with flyers, so I took one. Of course, I was driving on a narrow winding country road, so I didn't look at it until I got home. They want about $75,000 more for that house than I'd like to pay, and about $60,000 more than it's probably worth. It's on only 2 acres (I wanted at least 5, but I'd settle at this point), and it's 2,000 square feet (about the right size). If not for the price it'd be perfect. *sigh* Ya'll just don't know how close I am to giving up. I drive around every week, and I see property. All I want is a few acres. Certainly someone could spare a few acres for a nice, neighborly person like myself. It makes me sad.
• I got a new free product today to blog about--it's cereal. I'll tell you guys about it once I've eaten it, but a preliminary taste tells me I'm going to like it, and that surprises me. I'm generally a plain, Cheerios or Rice Crispies kind of girl. At least it's healthy cereal--perhaps if I eat it for every meal this week I'll lose some weight.
  
• As I type this, the boys are playing outside. By themselves. Of course, they're in a fenced in yard and the windows are open so I can hear them, but this is a real treat for them and for me. Rarely are they outside totally unsupervised, and rarely do I have quiet moments to myself. One of the perks of them growing older, I suppose.
  

Anyone have a MySpace page? I never made one, because I feel I'm a little too old for MySpace. I know there's no age limit or anything, but it seems like it's geared more towards the younger crowd.

So, remember my friend Jeremy that I told you guys about? My old friend that I recently got in touch with? He has a MySpace page. And in order to look at MySpace pages, you have to have a MySpace account. I opened an account, with the intention of doing nothing with it except look at Jeremy's MySpace page. I mean, it's free.

Well, I had some free time at work (ok, I had LOTS of free time) so I searched around to see if I could find anyone else that I had lost touch with. And there were several people. But some people have private profiles, and you can't look at them unless you are on their friend list. And you can't get on friend lists unless you've actually done something with your profile.

To make a long story short, now I have a MySpace page. It's not all fancy or anything, but it's there. I don't intend to spend hours perusing MySpace or anything, but I'm on there.

The sad thing is, I don't have any friends on there. OK, I take that back. I have 3 friends. 4 if you count the friend request that I put in to George Strait, but he hasn't gotten back to me yet. So if you have a MySpace page and you'd like to help keep me from feeling like a total loser, would you please swing by and add me as your friend? I'm here.