Life is not a photo op.

I'm so glad I can live my life without having to constantly yell at people to take pictures of me so I can post them on Facebook for proof and validation.  Outings with my children are not photo opportunities.  I don't have to put a photo of myself with my children at the zoo/park/aquarium/museum and see 100 "likes" to feel as though I did the right thing by taking them on a field trip.  I can do things for my children without having to make it about myself.

I don't need your approval to feel validated.  I don't have to pose awkwardly in front of a mirror every. single. time. I buy a new outfit.  I can remember how I looked yesterday, so I can live today without taking another bathroom selfie, unless I give myself another horribly laughable accidental haircut.  I can put on a bathing suit without saying, "Oh I need to instagram this!" 

You'll occasionally see a picture of me with my kids, but I can take a picture of my children without putting myself in the middle of it.  This is why there are so many more pictures of them than of myself.

4 years ago, I made a huge oops while trimming my bangs, so I took a bathroom selfie.

This one is sure to piss off EVERYONE. . .

Disclaimer: I do not have a problem with teachers.  Every time I mention my disdain for the public school system, a teacher has to get offended.  I dislike the system.

Don't you just love the people who are constantly posting political shit on Facebook?  I know I love them, especially the ones who put their kids on the public school bus and race to the computer to talk junk about medicaid and food stamps.  They want to get rid of all of the "government handouts" yet trust that same government to educate and care for their children.  They actually expect the same government who can't even balance a budget to balance their children's lives.  I don't get it.

On average, it costs around $11,000 per student per year to educate each American student.  Some states spend much less, and some spend way more.  But still, ELEVEN THOUSAND DOLLARS.  Thanks to this glorious shutdown we are experiencing, I can't produce the best links as many of our government websites are down.  Here is one.  We're spending $11,000 per kid and everyone wants to spend more, but they also want to cut spending.  I'll write more about my ideas for budget cuts later, but this one gets to me.

Long story short: I'm working from home so I can educate my children. I could be making triple my current earnings if I worked a traditional job.  My husband was working a pretty good job 3 years ago, but life happened, as well as a pretty bad accident involving partial amputation, and now that job is gone, leaving us with about half his old income.  I'm also buying all of our educational materials out of my own pocket.  Uncle Sam isn't giving my child an iPad, but then again, neither am I.  Uncle Sam isn't buying my children their textbooks, building schools, or making photocopies for me.  This is coming out of the money I could be using to pay for groceries, glasses auto repairs, clothing, or getting my cracked front teeth fixed.

I could put Kaiya in second grade at the local public school, put Ronin in the More at 4 program (rough estimate of cost here), and stick Tanith in a daycare, but I'd (theoretically) rather save the government $17,000 this year ($22,000 next year!  Over $33,000 when Tanith starts kindergarten!) and DIY.  I'll keep getting called trash and watching eyes roll when I pull out my food stamp card and I will accept a couple hundred dollars per month in help, never actually spending the full amount.  I don't plan on doing this forever, but I paid into the system my entire adult life, so I don't mind temporarily benefiting from it.


You keep putting your children on that school bus and I'll keep swiping my EBT card. When you stop accepting the handout of public education, then you can say something about my dependence. 

And before you even lift a finger to start typing a retort about the correlation between food stamps, Cadillacs and your cousin's neighbor's uncle who saw somebody buying his dogs steaks with EBT, no I don't own a frigging iPhone.

What does the fox say?

Nothing.  The fox says nothing.  That's what makes him sly.  He shuts up and does his foxy business.  Mister foxy fox.  Sometimes he'll bark and go all canine, but he's usually silent.  Foxy fox.

I hated Gangnam Style from the beginning.  I'm not big on youtube trends.  I'm not really big on any trends, for that matter.

Because of my knowledge, I refused to watch this video. 

And then it happened.  I saw it. I can never un-see the contents of this video.  I don't want them to be unseen.  I must watch it a dozen more times and I will giggle hysterically at every single sound the fox makes, from the first "ring ding ding," to the "wa pa pa pa pa pa pow," to the "hatee hatee hatee ho," and the "joff tchoff tchoffo tchoffo tchoff."  I'm actually giggling right now because I typed it.  By the time, "jacha chacha chacha chow" and "fraka kaka kaka kaka kow" roll around, there are tears on my cheeks.

I know that a ton of people hate on it because it's dance pop.  I don't dance and I hate pop, but there is something strangely hypnotic about this song.  Yes, it's ridiculous, but don't we all sometimes need a distraction?

The underappreciated milestones

Tanith holds her first ball python.

Everyone  always oohs and ahhs over the typical milestones.  Those first steps.  First words.  First poo-splosion.

Today, at 1 year, 11 months, and 5 days, Tanith has reached a new milestone.  She now has the ability to formulate an alibi.  She poked her sister in the eye, and when I told her not to poke people in the eyes, she fell over and proclaimed, "Did no do it! I schweepan!"

It may not be a believable alibi, but it's a hilarious one.

the fanny pack is back! Week one

After several years of ridiculing fanny packs, I recently decided that they are the most awesome invention ever.  It's like adding a ton of extra pockets and making it all hands-free.  I toyed with the idea over the course of the past year and finally took the plunge when I had some swagbucks available for amazon gift cards. 
The beauty shown above arrived in the mail a few days ago.  Wednesday, I wore it all around our small town.  I got several stares along with a few whispers.  One girl, who was carrying two very large bags and a small, out-of-control child, giggled.  I like to think anyone who carries a large designer imposter purse along with a large diaper bag is lacking in common sense.  Who really needs that much stuff, anyway?  Back to the story.  She was chasing after her kid and knocked him over with her pair of bags.  Who laughed then?  The girl in the fanny pack.
Today, I wore it to do a couple of deliveries for my tattoo supply business.  I had on a seafoam green fanny pack covered in Dragonball Z buttons, cut-off jorts, Avengers T-shirt, cheesy Halloween socks, heart slide on shoes, freshly rediscovered lip piercing, Vanilla Ice on the radio, and three kids in the back of my station wagon.  I hopped out of my car and everyone took me seriously. 
Do you wear a fanny pack? Would you wear a fanny pack?  Would you like for me to add a decoration to my fanny pack?  Contact me if you would like to send a decoration for display on my fanny pack.

Halloween Costumes

Halloween used to be my favorite holiday.  Now it's inching down the list toward least favorite, thanks to my children.  In the course of one hour, I've been asked to make these costumes:

1. Arcee
2. Optimus Prime
3. Megatron
4. Bumblebee
5. Spiderman
6. Captain Jack Sparrow
7. Wasp
8. Black Widow
9. Sarah Sanderson from Hocus Pocus
10. Winifred Sanderson
11. a photographer
12. someone who goes to a lot of parties
13. robot
14. Queen King Diamond 
15. gymnast 
16. dancer 
17. flower girl

That's for 3 kids, one of whom can't even pick a costume.  I can expect this list to keep growing until a few days before Halloween, when I will throw something together at the last minute out of pure frustration.  Everyone will hate it equally and Ronin will just wear one of the costumes he's worn most of the year.

My dogs are trying to kill me.

I have two dogs.  Pugsley is a 13 year old poodle and Alcide is a 3 year old Shepherd/Husky shelter mutt.  I think they're out to get me.  I'm always tripping over them.  It's like they see me coming with an armful of stuff and they decide to play dead on the floor so I'll trip.

This weekend, we were visiting relatives and about to leave to go home.  Pugsley jumped in the car and I thought the kids had let him out.  I also thought that my husband, Blue, had taken the keys out of the car.  I thought wrong.  I headed out to the car with my things, noticed that the dog was in the car, and saw him get excited.  He was so happy to see me that he jumped right onto the lock button. 

So what did I do?  I tried for over two hours to get him out.  I tried to coax him over to press the unlock button.  I tried using a coat hanger.  Somewhere in there, I called 911, hoping that since an animal was in danger, they would help.  They sent out animal control and later, an officer.  Neither one had any idea how to unlock a car door, so I called a locksmith who had it open in 3 minutes.  By then, my husband had to get home with his animals, so he had gone home and we had decided to stay the night so I could avoid driving 90 minutes in the dark with 3 cranky kids and 2 dogs.

Within 30 minutes, we noticed that no one had seen Alcide.  The gate was open.  I panicked.  We ran in different directions, checked under beds, tables, in closets, and I ran down the street in both directions.  I chased a deer, believing it was him.

Then my brother in law came outside and told me he'd found him.  Alcide looked at me and I swear he gave me the most mischievous dog smile I've ever seen. 

Sixth Sense

I've recently seen a few facebook conversations about how children have a sixth sense, making them prone to sensing things.  I'm starting to become a believer.

How is it that my children can sense which body part is in pain and find a way to make it hurt worse?  It has to be some sort of psychic connection.  It's like they're thinking, "Oh, your foot hurts, Mama?  Let me make sure I step on every toe to make sure I don't miss one.  You have a stomachache?  I'll just sit on your belly and be sure to jump up and elbow you a few times for good measure.  You have a massive bruise on your leg?  I'll be sure to head butt you a few times and then figure out a way to stomp on it.  Don't worry, I'll be extra cute and act surprised when you cry out in pain so you can't get angry."

A letter to my children regarding alone time

Dear Purples,
I love you kids more than life itself, but I'm going to flip out on you if I can't start getting some interrupted time to fold laundry and wash dishes. I stay up half the night to work on my ebay store and wake at six every morning so I can do these few things without having demands for milk, lip balm, toenail clippings, nursing, or questions about the dietary needs or life cycle of a wolf spider.

We spend nearly every waking hour together, and often many of our sleeping hours in the same bed, so I'm sure I can tend to these needs during the other twenty three hours of the day. I fully understand that parenting is a twenty four hour job, but I could do a much better job if I were allowed to poop alone and dress myself without being asked to explain the reproductive habits of ball pythons while you repeatedly step on my feet and demand I read the chicken book for the 179th time.

I'm not one of those moms who ditches her kids in daycare so she can get her nails and hair done. I don't have date nights. I've had one child free weekend, albeit a working weekend, in the past eight years. I just want to be able to focus silently on one thing at a time for one hour a day before sunrise while you sleep.
Please forgive me, for I am about to chug my pint of lukewarm Earl Grey before someone drops a transformer into it so that I can fold the ridiculous amount of laundry you have generated while you all simultaneously try to unfold it. 

One day you'll understand this, I'm sure.  In about ten years, I'll burst into the bathroom while you're taking a shower, throw back the curtain, and start demanding answers about things like butterfly poo, the names of the goblins in the Labyrinth, David Bowie's hair, and the manufacturing and quality control process in chocolate factories.

Love,
Your exhausted and frustrated mother

Modesty?

I've never really been a modest person.  Growing up, I wore whatever appealed to me.  I'd show up for school in a wedding dress and fairy wings, carrying a paint can.  I once showed up in a red slip covered in Christmas tree garland.  I didn't care at all.  The school secretary had my mother's work number memorized because she called about my dress code infractions so often.  I modeled for a while after graduation, and while I never really got used to wearing heels and short skirts, I could do it and look kind of comfortable.

Since then, I've changed.  I rarely wear shorts.  All of my shirts cover my middle.  I still don't care, but I'd rather not flaunt my post-partum belly and my thighs have expanded so much that I'd rather not be reminded of the vast expanse of jiggly whiteness every time I look down.  Also, I carry a lot of stuff.  You can't fit anything into the pockets on a pair of Daisy Dukes.  I also have three children whom I love dearly and am trying to set a half decent example.  I've set a few rules for my oldest two now that they are dressing themselves.

• Leggings are not pants.  They will never be pants.  If you are wearing leggings, appropriate booty cover will be used. 
• Shirts are made to cover your nipples.  If you're wearing a shirt and I can see nipples, you'd better be pretending to breastfeed or on your way to change into something that covers your nipples. 
• High heels will not be worn until you're done growing and can walk through the house without tripping over the air. 
• Your shirts will not flop carelessly off of your shoulders.  It makes you look like you're not intelligent enough to keep your clothes from falling off your body.
• Skirts are okay, but until you're no longer sitting crisscross applesauce, you're going to wear something under them.  No one wants to see your underwear, unless they're some sort of pervert.  This is where the leggings are a great thing.
• I'm raising a gaggle of gingers. Bathing suits will consist of a short sleeve rash guard top. Nearly every adult in the family has had or will have some form of skin cancer, and I'm a hundred percent certain you guys have inherited this gene. I don't care who is wearing a string bikini. You're my children and it's my job to protect you. Does anyone know how difficult it is to get sunscreen EVERYWHERE on three squirmy and impatient children? It's much easier to throw on a rash guard and do arms, legs, face.  

I'm not a prude and I'm not doing this as a religious thing to avoid "stumbling blocks" or any other bullish excuse.  I'm doing this because I'm trying to raise decent human beings who value themselves for what's inside, not for how many catcalls they get per day.

I pity the fool who thinks leggings are pants.

When did crazy become the new cancer?

I occasionally drive by a billboard like this.  "Imagine if you got blamed for having cancer."


Umm, yeah.  I can disagree with this on two levels.  While it's not your fault that you are mentally ill, you can certainly be blamed for your actions.  Cancer doesn't make you show up at my house at 2am, eating a hot dog slathered in peanut butter while dressed like Gumby, ranting about how shoelaces should be sold as singles and claiming that the government is monitoring your thoughts. 

Also, sometimes it's okay to blame someone for having cancer.  I've known people who did three tanning bed sessions per day and smoked while in the tanning bed.  If these end up with cancer, I'm pretty sure it's their own fault.

What are your thoughts on this subject?

Breastfeeding's not normal?

I've been breastfeeding for nearly eight years now.  What once seemed a bit foreign has now become second nature.  Well, not even second nature.  More like first nature? Wouldn't that just be nature?  I dont know.  Something I do without even thinking about it.  It is the most normal thing in the world to me, and especially to my children. 

While I totally get that breastfeeding is not for everyone, my children don't.  They have no tolerance for the nipple Nazis.  You know them, the people who are deathly afraid that someone will find out that I am nursing a baby and demand that I leave the room RIGHT THIS MINUTE for fear of indecency.  Not even a blanket will do.  A wall must be between a nursing mother and all other human beings for their comfort.  Even the words "breastfeeding" and "nursing" must be uttered in a hushed tone as though they are the most offensive of all curse words. Ha, utter.  That sounds like udder.  I bet they'd whisper that too.

For as long as mammals have existed, we've had mammary glands.  What is the purpose of these mammary glands on these mammals you speak of?  Lactation.  We make milk to feed our young.  This is why those things on your chest were created.  We use our feet to walk, our mouths to eat, and our boobs to nurse.  It's a body part being used as intended, and yet some people have to find a reason to be offended. 

Sure, some people find breasts to be sexual.  Some people are also aroused by feet, but I'm not giving up my Birkenstocks just because you're a pervert.  I've had gingerphiles approach me, but I'm not covering my hair for them, either. 

Ronin is 4 and has long since weaned, but he understands what makes the baby quiet.  There have been many times when Tanith has started crying and he's yelled, "Mama, Taniff neez boob!"  He saw a woman nursing a baby while shopping a few weeks ago and excitedly yelled out that the other mama was using her nipples too.

Kaiya heard that a friend of ours was taking a breastfeeding class and laughed a bit.  "That's silly.  I can teach her.  You put the baby on your lap sideways and then you pull your shirt up.  The baby bites your nipple and she gets milk.  Who doesn't get that?"  When I asked her about what happens when other people are around, "They don't need your milk!"

None of my children have ever enjoyed having a blanket thrown over their head.  It either becomes an arms-flailing get me out of here sort of moment or a game of peek a boo, and both of these situations draw much more attention than simply pulling up my shirt and latching.  I still don't understand the views of those who think it's a taboo thing that must only be done in private for fear of offending anyone.  You don't have the right not to be offended here.  If your obnoxious yapping offends me, I don't reserve the right to throw a blanket over your head and demand you only speak in a restroom.

I've recently had it brought to my attention by multiple people that women have been raped because they were nursing in public.  This is one of the most ignorant statements I've ever heard regarding breastfeeding.  Not only is it victim blaming, it's implausible, unprovable, and just plain stupid.  If you google it, you get results about breastfeeding after surviving a rape and one result of a woman raped in her apartment while nursing a baby.  I'm thinking maybe she was raped because she had a madman who wanted to rape her in her apartment, but that's just a theory.  

What are your thoughts on breastfeeding? 

What?  Nursing in front of animals?  Surely, the cobras must object!

Car Seats and Darwinism

I'm normally the first person to jump in and attempt to tactfully correct an improper car seat installation in hopes of keeping another person's child safe in the event of a collision. I've adjusted, installed, dismantled, and reassembled seats to keep children safe. I've done all of this while being compared to a Nazi soldier behind my back because I believe in the laws of physics, or "car seat propaganda" as some like to say.

I'm done. I know that children are 500% safer if you keep them rear facing until they're 35 pounds. Five hundred percent. I also know that if the straps aren't tight enough, my children could also end up flying from their seat. I honestly do not care if my toddler can't see where the car is headed or if you believe her legs are cramped. I know that I'm the one driving the car, so I don't think she'll need to navigate for me. I'd rather she had less leg room and her head didn't flip forward, breaking her tiny neck in the event of a collision.

Oh, you're too busy to read the manual, but you have time to peruse Facebook? Maybe your stupid genes don't need to be passed onto the next generation. What's that, you say? Our ancestors didn't have car seats and they turned out fine? I believe our ancestors also didn't barrel down a freeway in a steel cage going seventy miles an hour. If a parent on the Mayflower didn't attend to the safety of their child during their journey to the new world, the child fell off the boat, was eaten by sea monsters,* and that was that. If a caveman left their children unattended and the cavebabies were eaten by a tyrannosaur, their genes didn't survive.

I'm on the verge of asking our lawmakers to repeal all the car seat laws. If you're just using the seats to avoid the hassle of a traffic ticket and not to keep your child safe, you can be the ignorant cave person whose cave babies get eaten, negating your contribution to the gene pool.  Let's remove all the warning labels while we're at it.  You shouldn't need to be reminded to remove your car's windshield cover before driving.  You shouldn't need to be told that the coffee at McDonald's is hot.  If you don't know that you shouldn't use a blow dryer underwater, maybe the earth doesn't need you to breed.

*I know that neither sea monsters nor tyrannosaurs ate babies, nor did dinosaurs and humans coexist.
**This was intended as a tongue in cheek plea for proper car seat use, not as a threat to kill and eat your children. Put down the burning torch and pitchfork, townsfolk.  There is a much bigger and meaner beast in the castle up the hill with all the dancing household items.

You're not Miley Cyrus, so put your pants back on and sit down.

Everyone is tired of hearing about Miley Cyrus.  I know I've been sick of her for the past few years.  This is more about the aftermath.  I know I'm no expert about what's appropriate for kids (The Purples' favorite song is You're Gonna Go Far, Kid)  but wow.  I'd much rather tell my kids that it's not okay to say, "Dance fucker dance" than explain why it's not okay to grind on random people.  By the way, they still think Dexter is saying frogger.

What kind of person lets a kid watch Miley Cyrus' performance at the VMAs?  I ask this because I caught a younger relative in Daisy Dukes demonstrating Miley's twerking performance to my seven year old, complete with crotch grabbing, booty shaking, and the outstretched tongue of a brain damaged serpent.  My daughter stood there, looking disgusted, much like I did for a split second before I told her that we don't do this. 

Hannah Montana/Miley Cyrus and their ilk have never been allowed in our house.  My children probably think a Kardashian is a breed of dog.  We'd rather watch Jurassic Park or Doctor Who than any of those Disney skanks.

I'm no helicopter parent and my children aren't exactly sheltered.  I just happen to think that certain things aren't for young eyes, especially things of a sexual nature.  My oldest two children already know more about the life cycle of reptiles than most adults, but they don't need to know how humans attract a mate.  

Why are people allowing, or even pushing, their children to mature as quickly as possible?  Let them enjoy their childhood without worrying about body weight or whether they appeal to the opposite sex.  Let them play with dolls without the intentions of it being for practice because they'll have real babies in a few years.  Let them be children, for crying out loud.  There's nothing funny about it.  There is nothing cute about an oversexualized child.  I'm not looking at this from religious viewpoint, but a common sense viewpoint.  You can't pray away a lost childhood.

Ebay Etiquette

I sell things on eBay as a way to make a living and support my children.  No, I don't want to sell your things for you on eBay.  I also don't want to explain the entire selling process to you in detail so you can sell your stuff.  There are a lot of buyers who appear to have no manners, so I feel that all buyers should read this.

• Read the listing.  This should go without saying, but I get a lot of buyers who only half-read the title if I'm lucky.  Even more don't even bother scanning over the listing and are very bothered when they receive their item with unrealistic expectations and find that it's the exact item I described six times over in the listing.
• Email the buyer before leaving negative feedback.  A lot of us will bend over backwards for you, but once you've left a negative, we're done. 
• If you email the buyer and don't receive an immediate response, wait 48 hours.  This is standard eBay policy.  We sellers are actual humans with lives.  Many of us have children or other jobs.  Most of us don't sit in front of the computer all day, waiting for your emails.  
• Emailing us seven times in a row with progressively angrier messages won't get you anywhere, especially if we're not around to view these messages.  See above.
• Things often get lost or damaged in the mail.  If you check the tracking and it says that I took it to the post office, it's out of my hands and I can't possibly control what happens  Many sellers will ship your item again if it was lost without insurance  I did not hijack a mail truck so I could steal back your nine dollar can of H2Ocean spray.  I'm not sitting behind my computer, greedily rubbing my hands together, hoping to con you out of a few bucks.  Most eBay store owners are trying to run an honest business.  We wouldn't have an eBay store if we were ripping everyone off.
• If you're going to leave a negative feedback because were too lazy to read the item listing, please make sure to include as many expletives as the tiny space will allow.  This makes feedback removal much easier for the seller.
• Many sellers will accept lower offers on their product.  Please be reasonable when making an offer.  Don't offer $3.00 for an item that sells for $129.00, unless you like when buyers laugh at you.  Also, don't get butthurt when a seller rejects your offer or sends a higher counteroffer.  We're not selling products to you as a hobby.  We're trying to make a profit here and can't do that if we accept every offer that gets sent.
• Most of us accept returns.  Read the return information before clicking on the buy or bid buttons.  It will save us both a lot of headache.  Most sellers require buyers to return items IN THEIR ORIGINAL CONDITION in order to give a refund, so if you used your entire bottle of H2Ocean and then asked for a return, you're out of luck.
• By all means, please ask reasonable questions about the item.  Read the item's description first, and if you don't have all of the information you desire, ask questions.  Most sellers are happy to answer questions from buyers.
• Pay for your item!  You were obviously interested in purchasing this item, because you clicked "buy it now" and entered your password.  Pay for it so you can receive it. Sellers have to pay fees on each item sold, whether or not the buyer actually had to pay for it.  If you don't pay for it, don't be surprised when you get an unpaid item reminder.
• If you bought by accident or changed your mind, contact the seller and they'll start the cancellation process.  They'll get a fee credit and you won't get a strike.
• Check your address to make sure it's accurate before you buy the item.  Most sellers aren't psychic and therefore don't know that you have moved five states away from your previous address.

That's all I've got for now.  If you can think of something I missed, let me know in the comments section.  Now you can go and buy my stuff!

Reptile Show Etiquette

We attend a lot of reptile shows and often take our children along.  Someone asked my husband for advice on attending reptile shows, and here is his (edited) advice.

• Take your time to make the rounds. It can be a lot to see for a first timer. You don't want to miss anything. Maybe bring a camera.  Asking before you take pictures is the nice thing to do
• Use hand sanitizer. Many tables will have some available for public use, but it's still good to bring your own.
• Some of these animals are rare and high end. Do not be offended if you are denied when you ask to hold one, especially if the one you ask to hold has a price tag consisting of 3 digits or more.
• No ball jokes. That is more played out than a preschool jungle gym.
• Bringing the family is great. Bringing your family pet is not. Unless it's for sale or trade and has already been approved by the vendor, please leave animals at home.
• Refrain from impulse buys. I could write a book on this one, but the best way to put it: a cheap $20 Nile monitor will cost you hundreds of dollars in caging and thousands in food before it's all said and done.  If you're lucky, maybe you'll even get an emergency room bill for some stitches.
• Asking questions and sharing experiences is great, but remember these folks have two days to get business done, so try not to keep them too long if a crowd is forming around the table.
• If you're bringing a child, keeping tabs on them is a good idea.  If you can't keep your child from running about, crawling under tables, and annoying everyone in sight, a leash or electric cattle prod might be a wise investment.  
• Don't argue with or correct a vendor.  They're behind the table, so more than likely, they know more than you.  Even if you know more than them, you're not getting a discount for arguing. 
• Haggling is a good way to make everyone hate you. 
• It's okay to be afraid of things, but it's not okay to act like a jerk.  This is a reptile show.   Snakes are reptiles.  If you're afraid of snakes, keep it to yourself or stay at home. 

That's all I have for now, but if you see something that should be added to the list, post it below.  We'll be at the ICExpo next weekend, so stop by and see us. 

Blaze, my 7 year old's albino red tail.

I had a little dog . . .

But I'm a cheapskate and don't like to take him to get groomed every month.  Sometimes it gets to be a few months between haircuts and Pugsley starts to look less like a poodle and more like a giant dirty walking cotton ball.  Sometimes I'll trim his hair myself, do a horrible job, and swear I'll never do it again.  Until next time.

Over the weekend, I was mildly intoxicated and decided I wanted him to be pretty and white and fluffy again.   I started on his face with a pair of scissors, thinking I was just going to trim a bit so he could see until I got him to a groomer during the week.  It looked nice, at least in my intoxicated mind, so I thought it would be a good idea to keep going.  I have about 4 sets of clippers left from my days in the hair salon and keep one reserved for dog hair, so I grabbed that set and a bag of dog treats.  "I'll just trim a bit down from all over and leave his tail nice and fluffy," I thought.  The clippers disagreed with a, "Nnnnnnnnrrrrrrrrrfffffff," as they became entangled with mounds of fluff.  I stopped for a moment to clear the tangle and got back to work.  I was halfway there, with his back looking nice and short and soft.  All I had to do was get his belly and legs, then I'd be done and could bathe him.  All of the rest would blend together afterwards and he'd look wonderful!

"Nnnnnnnnnrrrffffffftttttt."  The clippers sputtered their dying breath as I begged them to keep going.  I gave up, did a bit of touching up with the scissors, and thought again that he would look fine after everything blended together after a good shampoo.

It didn't.  As you can see, it looked far from great.  What do I do now?  Let it grow back?  Take him to a new groomer and claim he's a stray?  Blame my children?  I can't say he did it himself, can I?  Plenty of parents tried to pull that one on me, but unlike a child, the dog can't snitch.  Dogs aren't capable of cutting their own hair, either.  In the words of my cosmetology teacher all those years ago, "It'll blend.  It'll blend."

Society Rant Part One.... "Let's Talk Truths"

So the question on my mind today, more of less over the weekend as well. What happened to our society?
I've been watching for months and months hoping that a change will arise to fix what is obviously damaged we're almost to a point of non-repair. Some of you I imagine are wonder what am I talking about, that rock your under is pretty large if you can't see what’s so obvious around you.
Where should I start? I guess with men and women. We all remember the 80's if you don't that’s cool you can catch up, just watch 16 candles or fast times at ridgemont high. Sex was all the rage, something we failed to learn from and it took time to control. Something that has evolved far beyond what we were prepared for. We went from gentle conversations between friends to everything being dropped on to facebook and other social media sites. Everyone remembers the first time, and what we learned from it, most likely heart break and sadness. Now and days men don't work nearly as hard to get what they want and women everywhere are learning hard lessons and moving forward.
I say men, but most "men" are just boys who in this day and age get whatever they want in an instant. If they don't want to meet a woman and work hard all they do is go online and chat with porn actresses online or just watch porn in general. Men stopped being men a while ago, the internet has made it easier for them no hard work when you can call a number and find a mate or search craigslist and make an appointment for blow-jobs. Leaving those of us woman who work for a living and have no interest in being used for a one night stand, for lack of a word alone.
Lately numbers have come out that women are now the bread winners of the family, the GOP says that it’s the reason our society is falling apart and why our children are suffering. It's one thing to say family's suffer in general do to the recent changes in society, the internet etc. but blaming woman is a whole other thing. We didn't plan on this we have dreams like men, and because of the recent fall of chivalry there are more single mothers, rape culture has gotten out of control and to be honest there's no money anymore. Before men can blame women for all of this let me point something out. The unregulated capitalist companies that are raking in 400 to 500 billion a year, are not pushing the money back into the economy. If they were, there would be a stay at home parent handling business. Also since were on this look around at the general status of men.
Most of them just ignore us and use the internet to replace us; while some women end up on the heart broken end of the stick other women have reduced themselves to being the person they sleep with just to get some things that they want. We've created a generation of I want kids, where the older generation in the 20's like myself get married in hopes to keep a man only to realize we had done it far too quick and either gets divorced leaving a scar, or just live in misery hoping that eventually the issue will resolve itself. In a crowd of unhappy people I sit and watch. The instant gratification that was supposed to create something new and amazing, has only created slaves to capitalism, women who have to work hard for less money and men that learning no lesson act like a bunch of children.
Not to say we didn't know most men we're un-evolved, we just figured they would grow up by now. But when no one learns anything, and science thwarts Darwinism where do we grow from here. Women should be running this society we've earned it at this point, from the moms who are a one woman army handling work and the kids while their husbands watch TV and ignore the surrounding area, to the women who just want a full relationship that we have no chance of getting with the guy who look like he walked out of New Jersey. We have earned our stripes to run this show, you have not. It about time we have a moment to run this shit; we've spent our lives fighting for this. Getting lip from members of the GOP about how we're bad mothers because we have to work is only going to piss us off; parenting is a multi-person job not just for women.
The fact of the matter is that fathers make just a strong difference in this life as mothers do, the fact that about 90% of men are spoiled brats means that as fathers you have done the worst job in teaching chivalry and gentlemenisms to your sons. How dare you step to us and blame us for this insanity, if we had a fucking say this bullshit wouldn't be happening in general.
You think we like being ignored? Paid less? How about the fact that you make the decisions on how we handle our health? Personal choices are what this country is all about yet somehow women have less choice than most. You can blame as you please, but know this we've done nothing to deserve what it is you are throwing down. We do our best, try our hardest to create a path for other younger woman to follow. Yes there are some who make us look ridiculous and you would like to blame all of the issues our society has on bad mothering.
You will have a reason to blame us the minute we get fair treatment for anything. The biggest joke on the internet is about all of us belonging in the kitchen making sandwiches and serving you. Remember this we are stronger smarter faster and we are the reason that you live today because without us there would be no next generation. And I would knock off those kitchen jokes,seeing as that's where the knifes are. To my fellow women, stand with me we've no need for boys. We need men, who treat us with dignity respect and pride. We need partners not masters. We need the next generation to be respectful and understanding and intelligent.
Stand up and lets end this degraded society together, let us take the congress the white house the school systems. Because we all know,we are never fucking wrong and we're keeping it this way!

What's with all the princess crap?

I've refrained from posting anything for over a month now, partly due to the fact that I can't think of anything that won't offed people, partly because I'm swamped.  Here goes.

I can't deal with the constant princess-ification of everything.

Kaiya turned 7 a month ago.  Among other things, such as puppies and beef jerky, she asked for a kids' telescope/microscope combo, Doctor Who's sonic screwdriver, a pair of binoculars for the zoo, and a trip to see Dinosaurs Alive.  What did she get?  Makeup and princess toys.  She still got some other really cool stuff, but it kind of stung a bit for people to ask what she wanted, be told in detail, then buy makeup and tell her she's a princess.

Maybe she doesn't want to be a freaking princess.  She told me today that she wants to be a Time Lord who helps animals.  I have an intelligent little girl who already knows she's beautiful, but also knows that looks aren't everything.

The next morning, she had already stripped the princess dolls of their dresses and accessories and declared that Merida would now be known as Amy Pond, Rapunzel had become Rose Tyler, and that Ken required a tiny bow tie so he could be the eleventh doctor.  Our shelter mutt ate the doll who would be Martha Jones, so I'll get on that next.

I know that we want our daughters to feel special and like they can do anything, but I feel that by calling them princesses we may be limiting them.  I don't want my girls to think they're dainty little damsels in distress who must look pretty and be rescued by a prince.  I want to raise strong, independent girls who can take care of themselves. The only princess with those qualities is Merida.  Before she got sluttified.

I can't remember ever buying anything with a princess on it, yet my house is overflowing with pink frilly things because people insist that my girls have to love these things.  Why?  Because they're girls!  It's not that I don't appreciate it when people buy things for my children, because I do.  But why not buy something that they actually want that costs less than the thing you want them to like?

I get that some girls are really into the princess thing, but mine aren't.  They like snakes, superheroes, climbing things, science fiction, volcanoes, and heavy metal.  They're not fragile little creatures who need saving.  They're awesome.

What's with all the skinny hate?

Every time I log into Facebook, I see where someone shared some sort of post about curvy girls.  I get to read about how curvy girls are better, or how only dogs like bones, or how skinny girls have to starve themselves, or that I'm just a skinny bitch.  I can't count the number of times I've been told I should go eat a cheeseburger/sandwich/etc.  Skinny girls have feelings too!

I hate the times when people try to pretend that Marilyn Monroe was plus-sized.  Seriously, look at her pictures.  You can see collarbones and sometimes even ribs.  According to her dressmaker, her measurements were usually around 35-22-35.  I get called a skinny bitch, but my waist has never been anywhere near that 22 inch mark, even when I was modeling.  People have claimed that she was a size 16.  Sizes were different 50 years ago, but she still wasn't exactly able to wear clothes off the rack. 

I'm sick of it.  Sure, mainstream media is biased and prefers thin, blonde, and rich.  Instead of just complaining and posting stuff on facebook putting someone else down to make yourself feel better, why don't you put down the fashion magazine?  Why don't you turn off the TV if you're so tired of all of the thin actresses?  If you hate the skinnies, then why are you trying to diet and be one?  Don't tell me it's societal pressure; you're trying to rebel against that same societal pressure by spreading the skinny hate.

It's okay for you to say, "Real Women Have Curves" or "Real men like curves; only dogs like bones" but it's not okay for me to say it loud that I'm thin and proud?  You can call me a skinny bitch, but if I call anyone a fatass, I'm a horrible person and need to shut my mouth because it's a condition and not their fault.  I don't go around calling people fatasses, but if I wanted to, I would still censor myself.  I can find much meaner things to say about people I want to put down than just the obvious appearance things.  If I don't like you, it's for a real reason, not just your appearance.

Real women come in all shapes and sizes.  You can be a size zero or a size 24 and still be a real woman.

Screw you guys and your whole "real women have curves" movement.  My real body has made and nourished three children. 

You don't get more real than that.

Poor People

I am writing this using my phone in the local WIC office. If you didn't already know, it's a government program designed to improve the nutrition of lower income women, infants, and children.  Oh wait, that means you're reading a blog written by (gasp) a poor person.  I love the way people look at me differently when they realize I'm a member lower class.  Poor people aren't supposed to be literate, are they?  We're all supposed to be a bunch of horrible, uneducated parents who dress our children in rags while we buy and sell drugs, get our nails done, drive Escalades, and collect welfare checks.  We're supposed to take advantage of the system and put our kids in daycare even though we're all a bunch of Peg Bundy-esque couch potatoes who have never worked a day in their lives. This may be true for some of us.

The truth is, I'm kind of smart.  I might not have a PhD, but I went to community college, own a home, drive a Taurus (named Boris), and I've never used the TANF system.  My kids might wear rags, but it's only because I choose my battles when they'd rather wear an old and dirty Spiderman costume than the nicer stuff I got from a consignment sale or with gift cards I earned for surveys.  I've always worked, sometimes two full time jobs at once, and was back at work within a couple of days after giving birth to my last two children, baby in a Moby carrier while I packed orders for my ebay store.  Hell, I don't even have cable TV and the thought of fake nails or daycare makes me feel a little queasy.

I've veered off topic again, haven't I?  The WIC system was started with good intentions.  I took advantage of a free breastfeeding class while pregnant with my oldest child.  I was 22 and had never been around breastfeeding, but I knew it was best and wouldn't do anything else.  I was completely clueless and was the only person in attendance.  I learned so much about breastfeeding and how boobs work.  I probably wouldn't have been successful if it weren't for that wonderful, patient teacher.  For years, I thought about going back and thanking her, but I had since moved and couldn't remember her name.  A few years later, our WIC office got a new nutritionist that seemed vaguely familiar.  I knew I had seen her or heard her voice before, but I'm no good with names or faces.  I finally noticed the plaque on her wall from my former county and it clicked.  She had been the teacher! 

Today looks like a slow day, but sometimes this place is has so many examples of bad parenting. Sure, let's fill a sippy cup with Mountain Dew, encourage the kid to drink it, and then hit him for acting like a kid high on a caffeine/sugar/chemical kick. That sounds like a GREAT idea!  Then we can jerk them up by one arm when we're called because we're too busy talking on the phone to pick them up properly.  Let's leave the baby screaming in an infant seat while we text.  Don't get me started on infant seats. That's a whole 'nother rant.  Let's show up and demand to be seen, even though we don't have an appointment or we missed ours by an hour.  I wonder if the WIC employees ever want to hand out vouchers for sour milk.  I know I would.

Baby Showers

I don't particularly like baby showers.  Due to my new-mom-itis, I allowed family to throw baby showers before my oldest, Kaiya, was born, but I didn't particularly enjoy them.  Granted, I was appreciative of all the gifts, the food, and the effort made, but the rest of it was just pretty bleh.  Loads of people trying to impress their opinions about birth and child rearing upon a expectant mother, along with making jokes about how fat she's become.  I've encountered comments like this at baby showers:

"Oh I know you said you were going to TRY to breastfeed, but here are some bottles for when you come to your senses" I sighed and rolled my eyes.
"I bought some diamond earrings for when you get the baby's ears pierced.  The doctor can do it for you."  No.  No.  No!
"I only bought a gift for one baby.  You look like you're having twins!" The expectant mom almost cried.
"I bought you some gauze and Vaseline for after his circumcision.  Snip snip, hahahaha!" I almost vomited, then wanted to cut a skank.
"Here are some earplugs for when you let your baby learn to soothe herself." I wanted to slap someone.
"Don't let that baby ruin your life.  It's going to try to manipulate you for her own benefit."
"I can already tell you'll have to get a c-section because you're little"
"Anyone who says they're going all-natural is crazy.  You'll learn."

See, baby showers invoke a violent response in people like me.  Still, my bestest friend is having one this weekend and I'm going.  It's not supposed to be your usual baby shower, one with a keg and a bluegrass band, but I'm sure the mainstream mommies will show up with their impassioned cries for "me time", rice cereal, epidurals, and sleep training.  This is the reason why I have no friends with kids. 
 

Kids' Bowling

Did you know that school-age kids can get two free games of bowling every day this summer?  You can sign up here.  I'm not getting paid to plug them; I just think it's pretty awesome.  You can get a family pass for $24.95 so that up to 4 adult family members can bowl free all summer.  When they ask who sent you, enter in mamersnc@gmail.com and there might be a chance for me to win a prize.

We'll be taking advantage of this deal.  Wouldn't a kids' bowling team be so cute?  Tiny, slick, and smelly rented shoes and nerdy little bowling shirts with screen printed logos!  The Dynamic Daleks?  Splendid Sycorax?  Tiny Time Lords?  Junior Jedi?    A summer sporting event that's indoors, away from the sun and bugs!  And it's (almost) free!  I shouldn't mention the bowling alley food.  I know it's toxic, but can you resist those cheap soggy nachos?

Who's coming with me?

Facebook

When I was younger, the internet was my escape.  I could go there and no one knew me.  None of my classmates, no one in my family, and none of my neighbors knew me.  I wasn't doing anything really wrong.  Just general mischief, message boards, napster, AOL cerver, and trolling.  It was great, unless you remember the sounds of the old 56k modem, all-night CD download times, and the fact that it cut off every time the phone rang.  Almost everyone you encountered online was literate, intelligent, and capable of a good debate.  Back then, everybody was afraid I was being stalked by Captain Howdy and anyone with a computer was a secret sex fiend, out to ensnare a 16 year old girl who carried a paint can.  Thank you very much, Strangeland.

Now, everybody is on the internet, regardless of literacy levels.  It can be a great thing, but at the same time, EVERYBODY IS ON THE INTERNET!  My parents are on craigslist buying vehicles, my kids are on PBS kids playing games, and great grandmas are setting up facebook profiles.  It's gone from a place where I was separate from everyone and everything to a place where everyone can find me.

I can't post about beer and burritos on Facebook without someone telling my parents.  Someone alerts my family if I mention using a power tool.  I'm almost thirty!
This brings me to the fact that I can find you guys, too.  I have 330 friends on Facebook, which pales in comparison to some, but it's enough for me.  Most of them are people I know and value in real life, but a good deal of these people are just online train wrecks.  I keep them around for when I feel like my life isn't so good and need a reason to smile.  That's my inner troll coming out.  If you have a Facebook, you have at least one friend who constantly posts about how horrible their life is and how it's not their fault, but you can trace the events leading to their current condition.  Oh no, you just had your third baby and have no idea who the dad is?  It couldn't be related to the drunken, half-naked party pictures you posted 9 months ago, proclaiming the fact that you were on the prowl!  The person who posts photos of their drug use and then laments the fact that they got sacked from their job after a drug test always entertains me, as does the single girl who takes relationship advice from Taylor Swift.

This is me around the time I discovered the internet.

Huge Ferocious Mutt

This morning, Tanith, the 18 month old tiny terrific terror, ran off into the bedroom after breakfast.  I caught Tanith sprawled across the floor, face to face with Alcide,our gigantic evil 50 pound German Shepherd-Husky shelter mutt, having a conversation.  She then stuck a Cheerio up his nose and laughed.  When I went to get it out, I found a White Rabbit wrapper jammed up the other nostril.  He sighed and laid back down. 

We got him two years ago from the animal shelter.  He was underweight, dehydrated, and very sick.  He was afraid of everything and let our toy poodle boss him around.  It's amazing to me how many people have remarked that he's a big scary dog.  He barks when people walk past his fence, but runs in fear when they approach.  This is a dog who has hurt more people while running from a thunderstorm than by biting them.  Someone even let him out of our chain link fence and called animal control about a big wild dog with a green collar.

2 years ago, Tanith and Ronin.  "Naybe he wikes me!"

Homeschool Rant #3: school fundraisers

See those buttons to the right of the page where you can donate a dollar or a penny or a million dollars?  They're not mandatory at all, yet I still catch crap about them.

"You mean you want me to give you money to educate your kids?  Shouldn't that be your responsibility?"

Yes, but I'm constantly being inundated with requests to buy cookie dough, books, bags, delicious doughnuts, candles, candy, raffle tickets, carbonated beverages, and other random crap from your public school child.  Save the soup labels, box tops, and cut the corners off the pancake mix for my child's school!  Doesn't my tax money help pay for their education? 

With our fundraiser, you can get some original one of a kind artwork and maybe even the story behind it.  Or not.  And I'm not going to send my kids over to your house with puppy dog eyes and an order form attached to a clipboard. 

We're going the cheapest route possible, not buying a set curriculum, getting everything used, planning to re-use the same learning materials between children, and DIYing whenever possible, but the first few years can get a little expensive (not to mention stressful) for most homeschooling parents.  Sure, I could do it all myself and put everything together on my own.  I tried that, and between my jobs, three kids, and the actual act of educating the children, I started going a little batty.  A person can only handle so much before she starts thinking about ways to put a saddle on the mutt and using him to raise the children.

And now for the gratuitous cuteness:

 

I don't like

I like a lot of things.  I have a strong dislike for a few others. 

Deviled eggs.  They are the malodorous ovum of Beelzebub.  Nothing like Devil's food cake.
Mustard.  It's like ketchup, but gross.  And it looks like newborn poop, but I do enjoy asking people if they have any Grey Poupon.  Do they still make that stuff?
Chick flicks.  Why do people think I want to watch that crap?
People who look forward to a zombie apocalypse.  Like they'd survive.
People who say coldslaw and giraft.  Really?
Mesothelioma lawyer commercials during Maury Povich.  Do you really think most of these viewers can even pronounce mesothelioma?
The same goes for structured annuity settlement commercials.  "If you get long term payments, but you need cash now" and "It's my money and I need it now"  Do these people really watch You are Not The Father?

Most commercials.  I turned off our cable a few months ago and can do without.
The sound tape makes when it comes off the roll.  I don't mind nails on a chalkboard.
Little girls in booty shorts and stripper heels.  Go be a kid.
Saggy skinny jeans.  Sagging is one thing and skinny jeans are another.  Putting them together makes you look exponentially more idiotic.
Side ponytails with multiple headbands.  Choose an accessory.
People who say uh-sess-er-ee.
Cats.
Single friends who constantly send invites to Facebook events, then ask why I couldn't make it.  Sure, let me just pack up my kids and let them play lawn darts in the mosh pit while I do Jager bombs at your show.
Single friends who quote Taylor Swift songs on Facebook that lament their singlehood.  Taylor Swift really knows how to avoid being single, right?
Taylor Swift
Boy bands.  I still shudder a little bit at the thought of Backstreet coming back (alright)

Gain laundry detergent.  I'd rather smell like feet than that crap.
People who drive a Nissan and get a custom made sticker to go across the windshield that says, "NISSAN" so that it matches the custom license plate that says Nissan.  I think that's already been established.
People who tell me to take it easy.  I have 3 kids, 2 jobs, and I homeschool.  When will I get the chance to take it easy?
Reese's Pieces.  Why did no one ever tell me they contained no chocolate?  It's like my whole life was a lie.

Malodorous ovum of beelzebub, be gone!

We have nothing to fear but . . . frogs.

I normally embrace the change of all seasons.  I get tired of the monotony, tired of keeping my arms and legs covered, tired of keeping my limbs uncovered, tired of warming/cooling the house and car.  You know.  You might be the same way.

I looked at the weather forecast and thought, "It's spring.  Finally!  The weather is going to stay warm all week and we can do fun stuff and go outside!  It'll be awesome!  I can open the windows!  I can plant a garden and go to the park.  Yay!"  Exclamation points galore! 

I opened my windows last week, thinking my sweet and stumpy escape artist of a youngest child was still too short to reach them.  Ten minutes later, she had knocked the screen out and I was catching her by her ankle as she attempted to jump out of the window into the sandbox so she could play "si-side" with her sister.  Now they're open just a crack.

I saw the pine pollen covering everything in sight and sighed, thinking it wouldn't be so bad.  I still get my warm weather, so I don't mind so much.  It'll be worth it.  I never minded it when I was younger.  I used to call it my protective layer and refused to wash my vehicles for several years.  Now it turns me into a hacking, coughing, bleary-eyed mess.

I ventured outside after dark tonight, forgetting my fears for a minute there.  I had a laptop, reusable grocery bag with about 10 pounds of food, and a baby in hand.  Freaking frogs.  Everywhere.  Frogs croaking.  Frogs jumping, frogs hopping.  Frogs just sitting there and looking at me.  Don't look at me, you froggy freaks with your creepy frog eyes.  Stupid frog faces.  I saw this lumpy thing, looking like conjoined froggy twins, glancing around and rocking there.  Muthascrappacrimetycrap.  Craptacular little amphibious frog farts.  I ran back to my parents' house, which was locked by then, banged on the door, and got back inside.  Tucked my pants into my shoes so the little froggy buggers couldn't hitch a ride up my pants legs.  Handed off the baby.  Placed my laptop with the groceries and went into survival mode, swinging a broomstick.

I turned on the porch light and went out the door, armed with a bag of groceries and a broom.  I got closer to the evil conjoined twinny frog monster and saw that it was two frogs doing the deed.  Making more frogs.  The thought of frogs mating is even more terrifying.  The female bullfrog can lay 20,000 eggs at a time.  Just the thought of twenty thousand tiny terrifying things, leaping about with their frog legs and squishy parts and those eyes and long sticky tongues.  It's enough to make me go into a cold sweat.  I gave my battle cry, swung the broom while slowly lurching across the yard, threw the bag into the hatchback, and peered around to find more of the jumping maniacs.  I swung some more with my broom and used my best ninja moves to make it to the driver seat, then stood on top of it to scan for more of the bouncing bow legged beasts.  I surrendered my weapon to my heroic mother, who was amazed at my bravery (or possibly wondering how I have made it this long without being institutionalized) buckled in the youngest of my offspring.

All of this to say screw spring.  You can keep those jumping cold blooded strange legged bug eyed beasts.  I can deal with the pollen, but you can take those morphing amphibious critters.

Don't reason with me.  I don't fear snakes or spiders or bugs or dogs or anything you consider normal.  I don't like being startled and I freaking hate frogs.  You can't reason with a frog.  They're evil.  Nothing cute about those jumpy transformative suzzabeezus.

A little zoo.

Yesterday, we took the kids to Aloha Safari Zoo.  We've been there once before, about 2 years ago when I was pregnant with Tanith.  We went with a group the first time, so it was a bit crowded.  This time, it was just the 5 of us (it still seems odd saying that) and we had a great time.  The staff acted like regular people, which seems to be a rarer and rarer occurrence as far as customer service goes. As we were walking through the building housing the reptiles, the employees mentioned that they were getting out the Burmese python, so my darling husband and oldest daughter were busy playing with it for a couple of hours.  I'm not exaggerating. 

 Ronin was able to observe many different types of poop.
"Wook mama!  Ho-wass poop!" That's horse for those of you who don't follow Roninspeak.
"That snake pooped on the gwound!"
"Wamb poop wooks wike waisins." That's lamb and raisins.
"Derr's pecans in da poo-da-potty! I can pee on da pecans!"
"Fish poop in da waddah?"
 Forgive me, but I took no photographs of this poop-venture.

Kaiya and Ronin fed a giraffe that was rescued out of someone's garage.  It takes a special kind of person to look at their garage and say to themselves, "You know what's missing?  Not an expensive sports car.  Not a new tool.  A giraffe!  A freaking giraffe would look great right about here.  And when he gets tall enough, he'll add a skylight for me."

 Tanith was able to tell us about milk.

"Mama.  Baby.  Ninny.  Mee-yoke."

"Cow.  Meee-yoke"

And, at the very end of our visit, after I deposited the camera inside the car, we were able to bottle-feed lambs.  I wish I had gotten a few shots of the kids, especially Tanith when she tried to sneak a taste of the sheep formula.  She enjoyed the taste of the lamb food, so why not the milk?  It's white, animals love it, it's in a bottle.  Seems legit.