Bringing Home the Bac...er...Venison

WARNING:  If you are sensitive to issues of hunting, you may want to skip this post.  Hunting happens to be a sport that our family participates in and has much respect for.  Although we view it as sport, we do also eat the meat of everything we kill.  We understand, however, that not everyone holds our same views. 


It just occurred to me the other day that some folks don't understand deer speak.

I mean, I guess I knew that not everyone hunted, but I didn't realize that deer lingo was truly a foreign language.

And, for sure, I'm not fluent.  I'm like on DoeBuck Level 3.  Maybe 3.5.  But, I'm learning.

My mom's side of the family lives, breathes, and sneezes hunting.  My cousin is a professional hunter, which might as well be NFL to redneckians.  And we have more pictures of my grandpa standing beside some critter that he killed than pictures of him not.  It's just how that side of the ole familia rolls.  So although my own family didn't do much outdoorsey stuff, hunting was certainly not strange or odd or foreign to me.

And then I married this guy.

And it was all over.

And I have been neck deep in wild game ever since.  Not only do I understand the anatomy of a deer, I have the anatomy of a deer in my fridge as I type this.  I've had deer heads in my freezer, and we have horns on our walls. We've spent many a night processing our own meat, and the boys love venison more than chicken or beef.  My closets vomit camouflage, and our entire fall schedule revolves around magical dates on the calendar which indicate what is in season and which gun or bow you can use to shoot it with.

So you can imagine the all-out giddyness that ensued late Saturday afternoon when I got the call that Sawyer shot his first deer ever.  All by himself.  And dragged it out of the woods.  All by himself.

Seriously big stuff around these parts.  Like a rite of passage of sorts.

Because it is one thing to dress the little men up in camo and hunter's orange and send them off for a day in the woods with their daddy.  Knowing that it really is probably not going to yield a successful hunt, and it is really more about the being like daddy part that really gets them excited anyway.

But we're on the fast track to mandome now.

And we couldn't be more proud.

Sawyer with his Button Buck -- November 7, 2009

Arkansas Youth Hunt

** My nephew, Jordan, scored big on Youth Hunt weekend also, bringing in TWO deer.  You can read about that here, at my sister's blog. Congratulations, Jordan!! **

So....... So, So Random

---- So tomorrow is the Youth Hunt for deer season here in good ole' Arkansas.  And Keaton just informed me that he didn't want to hunt because he doesn't want to "hurt the deer."  I quickly put that conversation off on his daddy and am now waiting anxiously for it to take place.  Really just to see the husband's face.  Him being so into animal rights and all. (Just ask our 3 legged dog and the deer he hit with the truck....they're voting him in as the next PETA president, for sure.)

---- So the other day the boys and I were elbow deep in school books and flashcards, and my phone kept ringing.  And ringing.  And ringing.  I usually keep my rule about not answering the phone during school, because I the children have attention issues, and if I get on the phone then I the children forget all about the education of their little brains.  Anyhow, the phone kept ringing.  And ringing.  And the caller i.d. said that it was my parents.  After the 76,456th ring, I decided that I had better answer it, because it was beginning to ring like an emergency.  So I answered the phone expecting the worst.  Well....it was.....

JIM-DAD:  (said with extreme panic) Amb? 
ME:  Yah?
JIM-DAD:  I need help!
ME: (thinking along the lines of falling and not getting up)  What????
JIM-DAD:  I'm on FaceBook, and Randy is trying to chat me and I don't know what to do!

I will now be answering to "Geek Squad."

---- So the next day my daddy calls me back.  To thank me for introducing him to wide wide world of internet chat. 

Dear Jim-Dad,
You're welcome.
Love,
Geek Squad

---- So I'm going to try to be very respectful of my fellow homeschoolers out there, but I just cannot go another day without mentioning the oddities that I'm experiencing.  I realize that I seem as strange to them as they do to me, and I'm not claiming normalcy by any means.  It says a WHOLE LOT more about me than it does them that I find these things odd, but I will tell you that I am in shock awe of folks who are actually able to get their offspring to eat things like chickpeas and wheatgerm and goat cheese.  And that people raise their own chickens for eggs...and live smack-dab in the middle of a neighborhood not on Old McDonald's farm.  And that people don't believe in cheetos.  And chocolate.  And plastic.  And microwaves.  I'm in awe.  Really.  In awe.

---- So I just saw on television a story about a couple who were in bed sleeping and a car slammed through their wall and landed on them.  That is scary.  But thankfully they were wearing clothing.  And I am tucking that story away for all the people who argue that you should sleep..ahem...comfortably.  Hello!  A car could smash through your wall at any given moment while you are sleeping.  Wear clothes.  The firemen who come to rescue you will thank you.  This has been your Rascal Raising PSA for today.  You're welcome.

---- So this post may just be the best post that I've read in a very very very long time.  Tiff's words are powerful and meaningful and encouraging.  If you are a mom....go now.  NOW.  This is an order.  LOVE.HER.LIKE.CRAZY.   What?  Did you miss the link??
Go HERE.

---- So I had someone comment the other day about my lack of correct grammar and punctuation in my posts.  And they were curious about my lack of grammatical discernment because my history is in teaching..uh...Grammar.  Um...my answer to that is that I know my way around a gerund phrase and can identify dangling participles with the best of 'em.  And I really do sit around and diagram sentences just for fun (you think I'm kidding, don't you?  I'm not.).  I just choose to not do it here.  Because this is my place to chat.  And I write like I speak.  And though I understand that fragmented sentences, extreme usage of ellipses, and prepositional phrases lacking appropriate objects bothers many of you....they don't bother me.  So continue to write like this, I shall.  Thanks for asking!  And a big conflicting pronoun antecedent to ya!

---- So I'm heading into the bowels of my kitchen in a few to clean up dinner from two nights ago.  Goodness....I heard your "Oooo, gross"s and "Nasty"s from here.  Don't be so judgy.  I've been busy.  Fieldtripping with folks who eat figs for dessert; watching Grey's Anatomy; and rockin' my groove thang in Hip Hop Dance Class (watch out, Beyonce!...that's all I gotsta say!).  So I'm just now getting to scrubbing the crockpot.  Hey...you knew my domesticky (props to the HighHeel Mama Who Wants To Gag Me With Carrot Juice for that word!) wouldn't/couldn't last forever!

Off to the bowels....and possibly to diagram a sentence or two....

Impressy

I mentioned my domestic-tivity yesterday. 

Fried chicken.  Clean sheets.  Hot breakfasts.  Folded towels in cabinets.   

I did cook chicken nuggets and BlueBox mac-n-cheese tonight just so as not to throw my family into a full blown shock from the healthy home-cooked from-scratch meals. 

Tonight though, I've been working on this.

I have a habit of starting things and then putting them away for awhile and then dragging them back out when the notion hits me.  And since I'm being all June Cleaver, then I dragged out the goods.

And I guess the boys thought it looked like fun.

And before I could lose my thread scissors for the 56th time, I was busy threading needles and tying off ends for the boys.

And smiling to myself as they tried to construct something out of leftover toille and black herringbone.  Cuties, I thought.

And then they showed me what they made.

Shut.My.Mouth.

The redheaded offspring made a shirt.  Albeit fit for a pirate wench, it is still a shirt.

And the eldest offspring made a pillow.  Complete with a monogram for his baby brother.

Impressed?  Me, too.

Their daddy?  Uh...not so much.

Betcha Didn't Know...

 

-- That I threw up in Zumba yesterday.  Oh, yes, I did.  Well, I didn't actually throw up IN Zumba, but I did make a mad dash out of the room and into the bathroom with my hand covering my mouth. 

-- That before going to Zumba one should not consume 14 mini-Snickers out of the Halloween candy bowl.  They do nothing for the body when said body is trying to keep up with the disgustingly perfect washboard stomach of your instructor who has birthed seven babies.  YES. SEVEN BABIES.  That alone will drive you to eat 14 more mini-Snickers.

-- That November brought in my domestic side.  I am cooking, cleaning, quilting, and causing my husband to say things like, "Who are you?" and "I don't know you anymore."

-- That as a result of my domesticness, I actually fried chicken the other day.  Like real chicken.  Fried.  I can see that you are as shocked as my family was.

-- That I have been staying up to watch the World Series even after the man-child goes to sleep.  Don't ask me why.  Because I don't know what to tell you.

-- That I am not getting the flu shots for my family.  We're going to take our chances and roll with it.  If we all end up oinking...you can tell me that you told me so. 

-- That I got to keep the nursery at church the other day, and it had the exact opposite effect on me that it usually does.  I snuggled this little precious squishy baby face and decided that I need one of those.  The husband is highly dismayed.

-- That I'm thinking of putting up my Christmas Tree this week.  Because it makes me happy.  And because we are going to be traveling so much in the next couple of months, I want to be able to enjoy it.

-- That the children ruined a piece of my antique furniture by lysoling the pull handles on all of the drawers.  In case you wondered....lysol strips the stain off of furniture.  Kudos to the rascals for trying to be all germ-free and stuff.  But you don't really have to worry about germs if your necks are wrung plum off.

-- That in exactly a month I will be sitting in the home of my bestie that I've never met in the skin.  We'll be sipping coffee and giggling and enjoying the sounds of our babies playing together.  And it will have been a long time coming.  And I.Cannot.Wait.

-- That I still know e.v.e.r.y.w.o.r.d. to "Ice Ice Baby."

-- That I have been known to bust out in song and dance to honor the almighty Vanilla.  And my children are starting to say things like, "MOM!" when I do.

-- That you can totally rip this post idea off and steal my button if you are suffering from bloggy block.  You're welcome.

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-- That this picture makes me laugh every.single.time. I see it.

Cracks.Me.Up.

Have a great day.  And a highly domestic November.

My Sweater Looks Like the 18,293 Pieces of SuperBubble That Came Home With Us Last Night

So Sawyer was a Ninja.

And he kept sucking on the red mask thing that covered his mouth.

So he was a Ninja with a big wet circle on his face.  So intimidating.  Because if I met a Ninja in a dark alley, I'd be extra scared if he was sucking on his face mask.  Weird kid.

And Tate, who started out as an army guy, changed his mind 20 minutes before time to leave for trick-or-treating and decided to be Batman. 

Whatever floats his cute little boat.

Then there was Keaton.  Our nerd brainiac.  He wanted to be a book.  An Open Book.  Clever.

And he misspelled all the words on all the pages himself.  It was sweetly precious.  And torture for my OCD soul.

We hit a trunk-or-treat/fall festival at one of the local churches in town, and then we headed around town and hit the houses with the good candy of the people that we knew. 

And Batman fell into an all-out sugar-induced coma.

And I was thrilled that Halloween was over and that we could move on to the REAL holiday season.

In fact, we were all so giddy about November's arrival that we were up and ready for church earlier than usual and headed outside to take a few celebratory pictures. 

We posed.

And smiled.

And climbed trees.

And looked just downright beautiful.

This post is dedicated to the grandparents who are beside themselves with glee because of the huge volume of pictures that are included here.  This post is also dedicated to all of the rest of you sweet people who had to suffer through the huge volume of pictures that are included here.  You're welcome.

Halloween Scrooge

This should come as no surprise to you.

Because after all, I'm the one who hates birthday parties, dresses my child in girl pants, and was guilty of actually forgetting one of the rascals' birthdays.  (I'm as proud of my mad parenting skillz as you are.)

But...I don't like Halloween.

I'll be honest with you....

It does have a bit to do with the historical aspects of Halloween that have given me the initial sour tastes in my mouth.  I just don't like it.  But, I have come to the point of realizing that dressing up in a superhero costume and begging candy off your neighbor isn't really that big of a deal.  We do, however, stay away from all things scary and haunted and gross.

I so wish that I could just take hold of that whole "We Don't Do Halloween" thing and run with it.  But, then I'd be lying to everyone.

Because really what it boils down to is that I just despise the whole costume THING.  And the fact that our town STINKS like skunk when it comes to Halloween-alternative activities also makes me just want to go to sleep on October 30 and not wake up until November.

Here's my take on the costume thing.  When I was growing up, my parents let me participate in Halloween activities like trick-or-treating and such, but we always, always, always MADE our costumes.  I was a gypsy and a hobo for years on end...because we scrounged around for stuff at home.  I'd get into my mama's makeup and doll up in my grandma's jewelry.  It's just what we did.

But now everything is so commercialized.  The racks and racks of neatly packaged costumes that cost $19.99 for cheap polyester hypnotize my children and put these weird voo-doo spells on them.  And it isn't that I can't say "no."  Because I can say "no."  It is the whining and perpetual asking for polyester that just makes me want to pull my hair out one blessed strand at a time. 

AND....

$19.99 x 3 = $59.97 for paper costumes

Do you know what we can do with $59.97??????  But the children don't tend to think in terms of $59.97.  They only think in terms of what's hanging on those racks.  (Do you know that one of my boys actually wanted to be a guy from KISS this year?  Why?  Not because they know who KISS is...but because it was hanging there.  Case in point.)

So this year (actually just yesterday...because I procrastinate), I put my foot down.

Each kid got $5.00 to spend on Halloween costumes.  They could use it to buy supplies to MAKE something (wahoo!!) or they could buy makeup or they could buy something to go with a costume that we already had at home.

.....let me interject here with the fact that we have a costume/dress-up cabinet at home that has no less than 48,397,342 costumes in it of all shapes, sizes, and colors.  Masks.  Hats.  Shoes.  You name it.  But, of course, none of those were "good enough".....

And I'm pleased to report that after much whining and crying over not getting to buy the prepackaged Obi Wan Kenobi or Gene Simmons or Michael Jackson (yes, MJ) costume, we came out successful. 

And today the children are excited about their costumes.

Tate found an army guy hat that he desperately wanted, and when he remembered that we had a soldier costume in the dress-up cabinet...he was thrilled.  $2.99 for army guy hat -- Score.

Keaton decided that he wanted to be a book.  Yes.  A book.  So today we are turning him into a book about whales (his choice), and he is going to end up looking relatively like one of those "The End Is Near" guys from New York City.  But he's happy, so I'm happy.  $3.29 for foam board. $1.29 for elastic. -- Score.

And then there was Sawyer.  He was dead set on being a ninja.  And making a ninja costume would be easy IF you owned a black sweatsuit.  We don't.  (Well...we do, but it has red paint all over it from when one of the boys painted the dog house.  And last time I checked....ninjas don't do paint stains.)  So, we priced everything at the store and GASP! it was going to come out cheaper to just buy the polyester get-up in the package then to buy a hoodie and britches and red material to make all the masks and ties and stuff that he was sure he needed to be an authentic ninja.

So we hatched a deal.  I'd put my $5 towards a ninja costume.  But he'd have to foot the rest if he wanted it that badly.  Smart kid spotted a $12 ninja costume (which was nowhere near as elaborate as the $19.99 one that he was eyeing) and decided that it was just fine.  And he decided that $7 was worth being able to hi-yah his way around the streets tonight.   $12 for a ninja costume. -- Kinda score.  (Because I put the $7 back in his piggy bank without him knowing it...I'm a sucker like that.)

Ah....Halloween.  My least favorite of all the holidays.

But I'm putting on my big girl britches tonight and making the most of it.  I'll parade my soldier, book, and ninja up and down the streets, and I'll come home and fish all the good candy out of their buckets.  I'll tell them that I need to "inspect" those pieces, and then I'll eat them.

And then we'll wake up tomorrow and it will be November.

And it will be time to get ready for my two favorite holidays.  Thanksgiving and Christmas.  Now those I can get excited about.

Conan and the Mini-Me

Meet Conan.

He's the Man Beast.

And here is Conan's proud new owner.

Oh. Wait.

Nope. That's the Mini-Me.

Have you ever seen anything cuter?  I think not.

There's Conan's real owner.  Look! He's smiling!!

Welcome to the family, Conan!