Hack and Whack

The weapon of choice.

Evidence gathered from a crime scene.

 

Close up!  ‘Waaaaah!’ cries Mom.

The perpetrator is caught and taken in for a mug shot.

Then whisked away to the cheapest hair cut place I could still find open.  I guess I got what I paid for  - a cheap cut.

Sadly, the stylist spoke very little English and even after I kindly held up my hands to Hope’s hair (three times) trying to show her how short I would prefer the hair cut (to hide the evidence of a crime).  Well let’s just say I finally gave up trying to communicate and brought the culprit Hope home.   And here’s the uneven mess the hairdresser left me with.

Are you kidding me? 

How uneven can you get?  So seeing that I had no extra money to go find someone to cut it right.  Well let’s just say Hope had to pray hard I wouldn’t mess it up even more as I tried to fix the extra mess the hair dresser made. So, here’s my attempt at a fix.

And the front, which I must mention in my defense, is much fluffier when dry.

Dang, I miss her hair.

 

Snapped this picture the same day she whacked it all off.   Well at least it will grow.  Meanwhile the scissors are under lock and key along with the permanent markers.   I think it turned out as okay as any inexperienced, untrained person could have cut it.  And I have to say it matches her sassy personality quite well.

I think she chopped it off because big sis Princess recently got a shorter do.  Princess has a nasty habit of chewing on her hair when concentrating.  That and I could just see her gnawing on it at school so she got a cropped look too.  But I’m missing both my girls hair.

The other hack and whack we attempted today was for a National Day of Service to commemorate the Anniversary of Sept. 11th.  No we didn’t whack or hack anyone.  We, along with thousand of others in our area participated in service projects all over the community.  We ended up helping out weed a garden for a local non-profit organization Camp Korey.  Sadly, I forgot the memory card to my camera.  The whole family went and weeded for 4 hours.  Let me say, the time flew by and I have to say pulling weeds is much more fun when there’s lot’s of people helping out.

The spirit of  whacking was preserved long after we went back home.  We decided to attempt to fight the jungle out back.  We mowed down weeds taller than myself and have now started laying out plastic to kill them off so we can till up the ground next spring.  I want my garden back. 

Weed hacking I can handle.  Let’s just hope the hair hacking has come to an end.

When it’s Not Okay to call 911

*  Someone breaks into a dance move that is so horrible it should be illegal – Don’t Call, just avert your eyes.  I do it all the time when watching my kids, because I don’t want to burst out laughing, snorting or hee-hawing at them and ruin their self esteem.

*  Someone attacks the sensibility of your brain with their lack of fashion sense (An often occurrence around here).  - Don’t call.  I know the fashion police might be real in TV land but they don’t have an office at your local police station.

*  See an out of control fire in your fire pit that’s being fueled by a teenage boy and a couple of gallons of gasoline.  This is a gray area folks.  If the fire is close to consuming the teenager then you might want to call.  If not, and the fire is stupid high but not really a danger. – Ugh, this is hard but there’s not a office for Stupidity at the local police station either.

*  Have a Nightmare – Don’t Call – Trust me.  I’m speaking from experience here.

So our friendly neighborhood patrolman stopped by our home as we were screaming verbally directing the kids for the umpteenth time to get their tails into bed.  Apparently someone had called 911 from our house.

But Who?  Any Why?

We lined up all the registered cell phones in the house and checked the call history on all of them. – No 911 calls.

Then we checked Dad’s old cell phone that was next to the bed where little Hope was laying.  BINGO.  Even though it had no Sim card in it – apparently it was still able to make that emergency phone call.

So after lining up our half dozen bedtime delinquents in their various states of (probably fashion illegal) nightwear, and having little Hope admit to playing with Dad’s old cell phone the officer was appeased enough not to issue anything other than a smirk and a warning for Miss Hope about when not to call 911.  Apparently being scared by a person who threatens you  and your safety is reason enough, but being scared out of your pants because of a nightmare, well, that doesn’t count.

Now, after getting Hope to swear on my grave, not to call 911 if she has another nightmare,  I’m going to go take my red face and hide it under a pillow.

Quick, Hide the Scissors

Nope, it’s not what you think.  Princess did not take the scissors to her hair again.  Dad did.

So Valiant Prince Erik has been taking over the girls hair Sunday morning.  He has mastered pony tails, and even taken a stab at braids.  The girls looked Fabulous.  However, when it comes to trimming bangs…

Opps!

Less than 24 hours later...

Yesterday I bought Hope a cute butterfly, flower decked white sandels. Don't ask me what I was thinking getting white. You would think I would know better by now. I was hoping it would match the little white eyelet dress she has.

Less than 24 hours later...

Hope found Abner's War Hammer painting supplies and was impressed at the speckling effect she could make with the can of black spray paint.

Regrettably the sandals were casualties of her creative efforts.

As was the floor.

We lucked out with the floor however, because it's nothing the magic eraser and a lot of elbow grease can't take care of. I shudder to think how things might have turned out if she had been on the carpet when she tried her latest experiment.

No, I don't make this stuff up. I'm too tired chasing a half dozen kids 24/7 to be creative enought to come up with all these wild creative urges.

Random thought: What in the blazes is elbow grease? Does anyone know the root of the term, and why it's related to hard work? I've never in my life known an elbow that produces grease.

My children are Doomed!

My children are Doomed, Doomed I say. They have no hope! What with their Dad's genetic's running through their veins and my klutziness. Heaven help them - cause they're gonna need it. I can't complain too much about their destructive tendencies because they learned everything they needed to know from me. The only difference is I don't do it intentionally.

I grew up in a home with no Barbie dolls - No one should be put through the torture of seeing her without clothes it might give you a body complex. Or at least that's how I was raised. Cover your eyes.

So I avoided the doll's as well, but my kids would get them as gifts. I eventually relented and even purchased a few Disney Princesses because my mom had taught me a nifty trick. Just piant a swimsuit on the doll that won't come off using, get this, Fingernail polish. I had to as soon as my boys started noticeing them and saying Ewwwwww, whenever the girls forgot to dress them.

So this morning I was attempting to give Jasmine a little top -

- and no, I would never wear that shade of green on my nails. I bought it purely for the doll. I've got quite the assortment of wild colors that match the different moods of my girls Barbies. Somehow I accidently knocking it off the night table onto my carpeted bedroom floor.

This is what you call two feet long PURE HORROR!!!

No magic eraser for carpets. This picture is taken after I downed two whole bottles of polish remover directly into the stain.

I guess we will never move now, or complain about my kids messes. Mine are much more expensive. Remember the hole in the wall. Well it's time to re-arrange my bedroom furniture.

From now on, I'm painting outside!

Oh Rats!

Lea came running into the house from the garage last night, as we were furiously cleaning for out-of-country company, and told us she saw a mouse in the garage. Of course we've suspected the little varmints for a bit now with the tell tale signs of droppings. But the mouse traps have stayed empty. I've been suspecting that Spooky the cat is just too old to chase them any more.

Drat.

She then proceeded to tell us how huge this mouse was and that it had an extra long tale. Hum, this doesn't quite sound like the little mice I grew up with. I then asked her to show me how big this mouse was. She proceeded to widen her hands to about a foot apart.

UGH! It was a RAT!

According to Lea, the Rat ran across the food storage jumped on top of the freezer, scaled the shelves and disappeared into the insulated duct in the ceiling. The evil thing has tunnels in our walls. I don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight.

Needless to say there is no way that Spooky will ever take on a critter as big as she is so I guess it's time to call the rodent exterminators. That and find out how much $ damage the pesky four legged menace and company has caused.

I'm now ultra sensitive to every little sound and movement in my peripheral vision and I've been jumpy all morning. Yuck, Yuck, and double Yuck!

It seems uninvited little creatures always happen to come calling at the same time we have company coming. A few years ago Spooky picked up fleas from the vets and spread them all over the house. Of course we didn’t notice them till Grandma and Co. had arrived and we were all itching our ankles like crazy. Fleas I can deal with, just a good cleaning and a couple of toxic spray cans. Very affordable. Rats however, Ugh, I don’t even want to think of what this mess is going to cost to clean up.

That and I just don’t know whether to tell the cousins or not.

Uh-oh!

'Mom, Hope's eating my computer,' Abner yells.
'What?'


Never, ever leave your valuables unprotected. Little curious fingers my find them and discover how fun it is to pop off the alphabet letters...


And Abner and Candyman, and all the Kings Men, couldn't put Mr. Computer back together again. Well, actually they could it just took all day to find all the missing pieces.

One Sorry Princess

I’m surprise they lasted this long. Truly, I think of all the decorations I’ve made, they lasted the longest. The ceramic Thanksgiving figurines, I painted nearly 13 years ago, bit the dust. More like, shattered into so many pieces, that I’m unwilling to make an effort to resuscitate them with super glue (again). I also lost 3 pumpkin/gourds. The feast was spared, but seeing it without guests might make Princess start to cry and say she is sorry all over again.
I know she didn’t mean too, I’ve reminded her and Hope not to play with them like little dolls. I even told them they were special because Mommy painted them a long, long time ago. Two days ago I moved them to the untouchable top shelf. At least I thought it was untouchable. Still all the little colorful pieces of food on the table were too tempting. I would catch Princess climbing the bookshelf to pull them down again. She and 2-year old sister Hope would pretend Thanksgiving. Princess loved the blue pilgrims and Hope always got the Indians. They always got along and it was soooooo cute to see Hope ask for the ‘pum-in (pumpkin)’. Maybe I should have just let them play. But I was partial to these decorations. Not only had I painted them but I had purchased them after two months of coveting them at the craft store. Guess you really shouldn’t covet. At the time I had just finished taking a tole-painting class and they were calling to me. Plus, if you’ve ever been in the stores this time of year, Thanksgiving decorations are few and far between. The poor Holiday gets skipped right over in the retailers’ effort to start picking up your Christmas moola. Since I happen to love Thanksgiving, I couldn’t resist another reason to bring them home.
Yesterday evening, I heard the dreaded crash. I knew exactly what had happened. Princess was climbing the shelves again. She only had to step on the bottom one to reach the top, but it was enough to start to tip the bookshelf. I was panicking as I rounded the corner expecting to see the whole piece of furniture on top of her or Hope. I had been thinking of bolting it to the wall in the past because I’ve seen them start to tip it before. What a relief, it was still upright, and there stood Princess, wringing her little hands with a terrified look on her face, standing amid the shattered remains of her envy. I must have heard, “I’m sorry and I didn’t mean to,’ through her tears and whimpers hundreds of times over the next 30 minutes. I had her help me clean up the broken pieces. It was a bit tough to do since Hope kept picking up little Pilgrim parts and in her high squeaky voice, she would have them talk to each other. Both girls tried unsuccessfully to see if any of them would fit back together. Notice the Indian head on the pilgrim’s body?
We bid them farewell and sent them off to the garbage together with a few more tears.
Now the great thing is that I didn’t even get upset at her (and that is not normal, but something I’m working on). I guess I saw it coming and I knew she was sorry and felt horrible, and I’ve learned that if you rub it in they won’t always get that lesson. However I did think, darn where is the camera when you need it. My husband took some pictures with my flash-less camera so you can tell they are a bit dark. What I’ve learned over the past couple of years is that stuff is stuff, it comes and goes, but my little munchkins are mine forever and I’ll love them no matter what. Along the way, they are just happening to teach me patience, a little bit about simplicity, oh, and how to play nice.