Silly Putty- It's not for wimps.

I really think Silly Putty was invented by Satan himself (right along with panty hose, but I digress). I quit buy the silly putty, goo's, slimes, farting sludge, etc years ago and forbid it to be in the house. Ever since Her Majesty placed the lovely goo on top of her head, and it melted into every strand and refused to come out. They are banned objects in this house.

So, My hair brained husband (it started growing inward on his head instead of outward and has affected the part of his brain that is able to hear me and retain information I tell him), well...anyways, he takes the kids to a family gathering and what does his precious little princess come home with???? The Forbidden, Dreaded, SILLY PUTTY!!!!

Sure she had a blast playing with it. Contraband material is always a more joyful thing ya know. I threatened her that it must not be placed ANYWHERE but her hands. Her daddy says "Oh, she will be fine with it". She says "BUT IT'S GREEN, MY FAVORITE COLOR, I LOVE MY SILLY PUTTY AND YOU CAN'T HAVE IT!!" Yes, there was yelling involved as soon as I mention something about a trashcan. Okay, didn't seem like I would win this battle. Maybe hubby was right, maybe she was old enough to take care of it and I wouldn't have any problems.

Maybe I will sprout wings and be able to fly too!

Want to guess what became of the silly putty???

That's right folks, this is what lime green silly putty looks like shoved into carpeting. I knew this would turn out badly, but I really did hope I would be proved wrong. REALLY!

Of course Her Majesty has no idea how this happened. She did offer the suggestion of just cutting it out of the carpeting though. Thanks for the help Sweetie.

I tried cussing it out, didn't work. I tried using ice cubes on it, it turned it to green sticky mush. I tried sweeping it up. I tried just sitting there for an hour and picking it out one molecule at a time. It didn't work. I became resigned to just live with the green blob right in front of the couch. Maybe I could just re-arrange the furniture to hide it? *sigh*

Then in one last desperate battle to remove the dreaded silly putty, I grabbed my bottle of windex and sprayed! Then blotted with a paper towel. Hmmm I think some of it came up. I repeated the procedure until all traces of Silly Putty no longer existed on the carpet.

I think I need to make a "No Silly Putty" sign to hang out by the "NO TRESSPASSING" sign in the front yard. Think they would get the hint?

At least she is pretty!

My husband works in the farming industry. He came home one day telling me the story that a mama Killdeer had built her nest in their lot. A Killdeer is a ground nesting bird. He was telling me about how she had put her eggs in a little indentation in the middle of their gravel lot. Where tons of trucks, and various farm equipment drive through daily. He said if any of the guys got too close to her nest, she would drop a wing, pretend she was injured, and try to lead them away from the nest, as Killdeers are known to do. What did these burly Menly-Men do to help remedy the situation? They put up bright orange caution cones around the nest to protect her. The story fascinated me, and I wanted him to take me to the plant so I could see this nest.


We loaded up into the mini-van (yes, God forgive me, I drove a Mini-Van), and he takes us to the plant. As we were pulling into the parking lot, we were talking about the bird. Our daughter says something about seeing a bunny in the lot. Okay, we continue talking about the bird and how they make their nest on the ground, how they fake injury to draw predators away from their nest, yadda yadda yadda. We wanted to give them a quick nature lesson.


I get out first and go look at the nest. It was just a little dip in the gravel, and sitting neatly in the center were these perfect little eggs. They looked just like little spotted rocks. WOW! I go to the van and ask the kids if they would like to get out and go look at the eggs too, when our precious little girl says "YES, I've never seen bunny eggs before!!!" God love her, she was so fascinated with the bunny she had seen earlier, that she totally forgot that we were initially talking about a bird.


The good news is, at least she is pretty!

1 Straight-Jacket: Girls size 8, Please!

HOLY CRAP! I always heard that girls were easier than boys. So, with the challenges of our son, I thought a daughter would be a breeze. Right!! Monkey boy is ADHD, Her Majesty, is just a B.R.A.T! I'm not talking about the freakishbigheadeddollswithtoomuchmakeupbratz either. I'm saying she needs to be tied up in her room, with duct tape covering her mouth, and a straight jacket on.
I remember holding her as a new born baby. Her sweet little baby face promised me pink, ribbons, baby dolls, and hair barrette's. I pictured doing her hair and playing Barbie's with her, then sitting down to a tea party in our fancy dresses. Instead, I spend my days trying to control the next temper tantrum, pulling gum out of her dolls hair, fighting with her over what clothes she can wear, screaming at her just so I can get her to sit still long enough to comb her hair, and dreaming of ordering that straight-jacket I found online. What the hell happened???
All that "Sugar and spice and everything nice!" Pfffftttt. It's all a lie! It's more like "Eye of newt and tail of skunk!". There is no peaceful Mommy and Me time, it's more like a constant fight for supremacy around here, and I really think she is winning. Pretty Pretty Princess my foot! She is more like Attilla the Hun! Don't get me wrong, she does have that sweet peaceful attitude, when she is sleeping!
The dream has died. I think it happened about the same time I found her "poop paintings" in her crib for the 6th morning in a row. I think she is a little demon wrapped up in some very pretty trappings.
My dream: She stands before me with beautiful little braids in her hair, dressed in perfect little pink lace, clutching a sweet baby doll and in a perfect, peaceful little voice asks me if I will play dolls with her.
My reality: She stands before me with hair that hasn't been combed in over a week because it's not worth the energy and tooth enamel to try to comb it. Her hair and dirty face makes you think she may have been raised by wolves. Her clothes are a wild combination of colors and patterns, stained with everything she has ate for the past three days, since she refuses to change clothes ya' know. She is clutching the baby, covered in permanent marker and naked. She is screaming at the top of her lungs in a voice and whine that can only be equated to a chain saw trying to cut through tin sheeting, "WHY WON'T ANYONE PLAY WITH ME DAMMIT!!"
The website says that they have next day shipping on the jacket for an extra $50. I wonder where my husband hid that credit card?

Sweet Marie

200 years from now, if there is an archaeological dig on our property, I feel so sorry for those who do the digging. They will wonder what kind of family lived here. They are sure to think we were odd animal worshipers. Why, because of the amount of, and different types of animals they will find buried. We have a zoo of bones buried. Heck, we have even ran out of space on our nearly 5 acres to find a clean, UN-used grave space. I guess we are really rough on pets. I know of 3 cats, two dogs (one not even ours), a flock of chickens, several hamsters, a cockatiel, a frog, a snake, and several fish. I guess the learning curve with pets is pretty broad around here.





When our son was about 3, I decided he needed a pet of his very own to help care for. I wasn't silly enough to think a child that age could care for one all by himself, but it also gave me an excuse to use with my husband to add a new pet to our menagerie.


We go to the pet store and I help him pick out this precious little dwarf hamster. We had an unused aquarium at home to house him in, so I didn't have to buy the cage or anything. It was a very inexpensive pet and oh so sweet.


He loved this tiny little hamster and named her Marie, from one of the characters of "The Aristocats", his favorite movie at the time. We placed her aquarium in his toy room on a little table. That was the worst mistake. He could easily reach into the tank and take her out by herself. He would pull her out and kiss on her, and pet her. He SO loved this little critter and I would lecture him constantly that he shouldn't take her out of her cage by himself. This was mistake #2. Actually believing that my precious child would listen to me and mind what I said. WRONG! I was a reasonably new mom and still experiencing this euphoria of being a mommy and having my perfect little family.


One morning, he came carrying Marie into the living room in his little hand and said "Marie just died this morning!" I said the expected "What?" and go take the little critter out of his palm. Still warm, but totally lifeless. She had passed to the great hamster wheel in the sky. I got the story from him. He said "I was giving her hugs and I think I loved her too much". We buried her under the willow tree, and I placed a cardboard tombstone on her little grave with the following epitaph:

"Here lies sweet Marie

The prettiest hamster that ever could be.

But now we're sad, our life's been marred

Because our sweet son

Squeezed her too hard."

Now see, I thought this was a humorous way of dealing with the situation. My husband found no humor in it. He just knew this was the first signs our son would be a future serial killer. Don't worry. Ten years later, he is very compassionate toward the furry critters, but to his sister? Not so much.