Redefine "Ear of Corn"...why yes, I think we can.

Yesterday, sitting at my desk working on reports, my phone rings.  I answer like usual and hear the ill-fated words "Mrs. Knight, this is Ms.____ from Hand-in-Hand School.  Caroline has had an accident..."  My mind froze and I started to panic.  Then Ms. ____ (I honestly forget her name), tells me Caroline is in the nurse's station with a kernel of corn in her ear.  Panic turns to "Say what???"  She proceeds to tell me that she tried to get it out, but Caroline has become "uncooperative" (you think?) and I need to come up there.  I tell her I will be there in less than 15 minutes and out the door I go.  I call Jay to give him a heads up that I may be calling from the doctor's office or the ER, and tell him what I know.  He proceeds to laugh and share the great "corn-in-ear story of '85"---that really doesn't make me feel better, but makes sense that this was hereditary and could not be avoided.   I get to school and there she is, Miss. Kernel reading a book and looking pitiful.  I do not recognize the clothes she has on as the ones she wore to school, but not wanting to get side-tracked I assess the immediate situation.  The nurse shows me where the kernel is lodged in her ear (quite impressive) and said she cannot get it out.  I start to ask Caroline what happened, but then realize we can talk in the car.  I do ask about her outfit and she replies with "I spilled something too...it just isn't a good day, Mommy."  I hug her, sign her out, and off we go.  I call her doctor and they said "huh....we haven't had one of those in a while, but bring her in, it will be fun."  Fun?  Yea, thanks for the enthusiasm Nancy, but this is not "fun" we are having now.  They inform me they cannot see her for another 45 minutes so we head home...to change out of those clothes.  Ahhh, the clothes.  Remember when you send your child to school at the beginning of the year and you pack the "spare" change of clothes?  Well, she was rocking her spare-pair, and I do not remember us owning such a God-awful outfit.  Since we sent it in, Caroline has grown about 2-3 inches, so the t-shirt is now an inappropriate mid-drift shirt and the shorts are just wrong and ill-fitting as well.  As vain as this may sound, I was glad we had 30 minutes to kill because the last thing I needed was to walk in looking like we just got out of the woods telling the doctor "yep, my baby gots corn in her ear...can yer fix er?" ---call me a snob, but that was just not going to go down on my watch. 


Well, I learned two lessons yesterday.  1- Kids will do the darndest things, and 2- bypass the pediatrician and just go on to Urgent Care of the ER when you have a foreign object in one’s ear canal.  I love her doctor's office, but the entire removal process took almost 3 hours and was very traumatic. While I know it wouldn’t have been fun at the ER either, I think they could have nailed it right away as (and I was told) they have better equipment for this type of thing and do it more often.  The sweet doctor we saw (ours was out...damnit, he would have LOVED this story) got the kernel out and went to do one last look and ....well, you can imagine what we find--piece #2, BROKEN piece #2.  Where was #2 you may ask?  Well, it was WAY down in the ear canal.  So, new game plan gets put into action.  I learned a third thing yesterday.  She may be sassy at times, but she has the strength of a gorilla and moves like Spider Man.  One doctor and three adults holding her down and they finally got the last piece out.  Her inner-ear is scratched to the dickens, and after a week of ear drops...yep, those are fun as all kids who had two foreign objects removed LOVE to get drops put in there, we should recover just fine.  She did apologize to the nurse she almost attacked and in return got one kick-ass Candy Land sticker to take home.   I had a great morning walking in her in today and comparing stories.  Caroline promised she would make sure no more corn “snuck” in her ear and went off to play with her friends. Just one more story to add to the memory book.  

Flagged as that "crazy" mom

So, with the things that my child comes up with-and the things that come out of her mouth- I feel as though I should be a walking Caroline disclaimer. I understand my child and her sense of humor, but others may not and I will never fault them for that...ok, I may laugh at them and feel sad they don't know good humor, but will not fault them. One person whom I feel needs clarity on some things is Caroline's teacher.  She is, by far, one of the sweetest people you could meet...and that is what makes me so nervous.  I don't want her to judge me as I like her, and want to stay on friendly terms with her.   I worry that since she has my child for 30 hours a week, she must be exposed to things that could really make her question our family.  Not that there is anything to question, but with the dealing of our chickens, two crazy dogs, horses and nutty family, Caroline's relaying of information could come across as "bizarre" to those on the outside.  I have probably asked for it, but I believe I have flagged myself as the "crazy-email" mom.  I work full-time and do not have the luxury of picking up my child from school every day.  I do get to walk her to class every morning, but it is not the best time to try to “catch” anyone for a quick conversation.  I decided email was the best way to pass on messages and gain insight.  I have officially sent two doozies of topics emails to her teacher, doing my best to explain something that could potentially come out of my child's mouth.  The first one was in reference to the possibility that Caroline may or may not say something about “removing" a baby - long story- and the second one, well that was today.  This week is the "so no to drugs" week and the school has "themed" cute days for the kids.  Yesterday was "sock it to drugs" Monday where the kids got to wear silly socks.  Today was "too cool for drugs" where the kids got to wear sunglasses.  As Caroline and I are getting in the car, she asked me why she got to wear her sunglasses.  I said "because you are too cool for drugs" and she replies with "ok, great! Mommy...what are drugs?"  Trying not to panic, or be too technical, I did my best to come up with a simple and clear answer…but it clearly wasn't working. I could have used the Latin medical terms for particular drugs and she would not have looked at me any different.  So, in my quest to regain control of this situation and thinking I hit the explanation jack-pot, I used our dog as part of the explanation.  She seemed very excited to remember that Genga (the “police” dog) used to get the bad guys and drugs and was very happy.  She said she could tell her class and that it was cool.  The look on her face convinced me I had a small victory on my hands.  We stopped talking about illegal substances and went on to our morning ritual of singing old rock songs and making Justin Bieber (the car) poot---another story for a different post.  I walk my little sweet pea in to class, get my morning high-five, hug and kiss, and off I go.  As I walk back to the car I start to think about her mentioning Genga in class.  I smile, kind of chuckle, and then…panic.  I fear that she has just walked in to her class declaring “my dog finds drugs!” and no one really knowing what she may mean by that…and it worried me.  I debate over sending “crazy mom” email #2 and decide to go for it.  To my surprise I get the classic “LOL- that is funny, she never mentioned the dog” response and felt better.  Her teacher is going to ask her about it tomorrow, so I will send her with a photo of said “police” dog and hope that 21 other children don’t go home to tell their parents that “did you know that Caroline has a dog that likes to eat drugs?”

Maybe we just cut our list of those who would come to our birthday party in half.

Baby #2

Well, I figure I should get you all up to speed.  We (on behalf of my crew) are very excited to say that we are welcoming a new addition to our posse this March.  While I will not go into details as I know no one cares to really know about my innards, I will add that this has been a tough journey.  We never went through IVF or other treatments (but let me tell you, the thought was brewing in the back of our minds) but we have tried for this addition for years now.  We came close last fall but had an EPIC fail a few days prior to Christmas last year---not fun, but luckily I was engrossed in fabulous family for a nice season that it helped to get through.  Loss of pregnancies is not new to us.  We have lost several and they are no fun---really, they suck.  We never thought we would have to even think about miscarriage since we were blessed to have a healthy pregnancy, and successful birth with Caroline.  So in fall 2010 when we got pregnant again, we were excited.  10 weeks in, that excitement turned into another heartbreak after a routine visit.  One emergency surgical procedure before everyone went on Christmas break and we were off to recover and mope in our sorrow.  We told ourselves it happened for a reason, but it still stung.  Jay said we should try again, but I said I wasn't sure I could handle this happening again.  So we decided to just let it go.  My new year's resolution was to offer it up...if it happened great, if not, it was not in the cards.  I had a few bad days here or there, but I felt as though I was handling it well....well, well enough. I decided to focus on other things and expand our critter crew (probably part of the reason I am a chicken farmer now). I even used my baby-emotions to get Jay to allow me to take in another furry baby.  It is very hard for a man to say "no" to "well, since I cannot seem to have human babies, at least let me have another furry one"--Jay said that was the best play I have used so far in our marriage. :)  Love the man, got the dog, and two months later found myself puking at a conference.  So here we are just shy of 18 weeks pregnant and doing great.  Due to my "advanced maternal age"--damn, I hate that label- I have been tested like crazy.  I am pleased to report that we are all clear to welcome a healthy bambino thus far.  I have an appointment in a few more weeks to find out if we are having a boy of girl.  I will say that I really do not care...I am just glad there are no abnormalities detected and I just want to go full term and deliver and healthy happy bundle of joy. I will take either and like my doctor said "it is already determined, you just have to wait to find out."  Caroline said the last ultrasound picture (it was around 13 weeks) made the baby look like Pam--our little dog--but I reassured her the baby was a human and we would see more of him/her in print soon.  So, in a few weeks, I will update what we are having and then I will let the games begin!  Jay and I feel beyond blessed at this opportunity, but we are also realistic in knowing that this is it for us.  With my age, and the trend of "lose a baby, have a baby, lose a baby, have another" I am going to end on a positive note.  With that said, we also decided we are going to "go big or go home."  I am going to enjoy this.  I am not going to stress.  I am going to wear snug shirts that show my growing belly.  I am going to get up and eat a snack if I am hungry--and not worry about late night calories.  I am going to enjoy this, not hide it and bask in the beauty of this additional blessing.  Our sweet daughter Caroline is very excited.  She pats my tummy and tells her little sibling she loves him/her and then pokes it and says something sassy.  She is sweet and caring, inquisitive and ready for her role as a big sister.  We are ready too!

Hey, Cassanova-- I've got my eye on you!

My daughter appears to be a full-fledged flirt at the ripe old age of 4.  She is cute (I am partial) and can be charming (again, partial momma here) and seems to know many young boys at school and the YMCA.  She also can charm just about all ofher daddy's friends and has used her talent to get added on to the wedding invite of someone who said we can only come if Caroline comes. For the record, she has a "boyfriend" who we really like (c'mon, he is adorable,5 and is half-italian...what's not to love) plus-his parents are cool and Jay and I are hoping to add them to are arsenal of bad-ass parent friends, but we are trying to do so without coming across as desperate...another story for another post I guess.  Anyway, back to the soap opera of "as the toddler-times turn".   About a month ago, I go to the Y to pick up Caroline.  As we are walking towards the front doors I hear "hey Caroline" and turn to see (as Caroline throws my hand away and runs to the voice) who this non-female-voice belonged to.  When I turn, I see a young man- in football gear- who appears to be roughly 10 years old.  He hugs Caroline, pats her on the back and tells her he will "see her later."  I am somewhat in shock.  "Why is this man-child calling my 4-year old by name?"  "How does he know her since he is in a different part of the building?" "What does that punk mean by 'see you later'..."  Then I calm down and think "ok, no biggie, he seems very sweet and is just being nice."  Caroline comes skipping back to me and we walk to the car.  Not one to drop it, I asked her "Caroline, who was that?"  She replies with a "he's my friend."  I asked "what is your friend's name?"  She gives me the "I don't know, mommy" answer in what I detected (and swear I heard) a pre-teen tone. I laugh it off and try to think nothing of it.  We see football cassanova several times a week and he is always the same, nice "hugger" and smiles and begins to wave at me--now, I am starting not to trust him.  We see him at the ball park and yet again, super-sweet manners "hey Caroline, how are you?"  etc. Then I hear him turn to him mom and say "Mom, that is Caroline" as he points at us as we walk away.  The mom giggles (in  my mind I am asking "why the hell is she giggling?") but then just make it back to the car still trying to pump more information from Caroline about this boy--who did I mention, I no longer trust.  We have about a week of not seeing said Romeo until yesterday....that little bastard (ok, only kidding I would never call someone else's child a name...but I am telling a story here so don't judge) is hugging up on some other little 4-5 year old girl.  Not to be outdone, Caroline runs over to hug him and....well, lets just say he wasn't as excited as he had been every other time I saw him lure my child away from my arms with his macho "athlete" swagger.  I give him the eye---YES, I gave that little punk the eye and pretty much conveyed the message of "back off you two-timing punk" to his beady little 120 month old eyes or you will need those shoulder pads for another reason--and we walk on out.  I know he is only 10, he is probably harmless and maybe even has a ton of sisters at home and is just a sweet, nice kid.  But....I know his kind in their 20s and 30s and have labeled him immediately.  I only want to protect my daughter.  I want her to be strong, but not bossy, to be funny, but not distracting, to trust, but not to get hurt and if I can nip one potential heartbreaker this early on I will.  So, I remind Caroline we need to go see her age-appropriate boyfriend and get an icecream with him.  See...nothing like treating this break-up (oh yeah, football cassanova isn't even going to look at my child again) with delicious dairy sweets this early on!    

Chicken farmer, really?

So, what started as an innocent trip to the feed store to get a few chicks for our sweet daughter this past Easter, turned into the start of a new "career" as a poultry farmer.  Let me backtrack for a second here.  Two years ago, my sweet, sweet husband called and said "hey babe, I got you a gift today!"  While Jay is very kind and caring, he is not the "spur of the moment" gift-giver as seen on t.v. To add to this, it was our anniversary (not the exact day, but from what I remember it was roughly the same week) so I started to get excited.  He told me he'd be home right after work and I would get my gift--the anticipation was killing me! Was it jewelry? Hmmm, while he has gifted me with some nice trinkets, jewelry is generally a Christmas gift so I knew that was out. Hmm...could it be a gift certificate to a day spa? As I toyed with the excitement of what this "gift" could be, I finished up feeding the horses and was outside playing with Caroline.  Jay pulls up to the barn and asks "are you ready for your gift?"  Beaming with anticipation, I said "of course!"  Then, that dear sweet man takes out a weed-eater box.  Hmm...not was I was thinking....is he serious?  Then I realized the box was moving--yes, it was moving.  Jay opened the "weed-eater" only to pull 3 hens and a cocky (yea, I went there) little rooster out of the box and let them go in the yard.  "Thanks,hon" was all I could come up with.  Then he was sweet and said "well, I knew we wanted fresh eggs, so here you go."  Glad I didn't ask for fresh bacon and sausage as well...or milk, otherwise I would be milking Katie the Cow every morning.  Needless to say they didn't last too terribly long, but we had our little "taste" of having fresh eggs around and knew we would do it again one day.

Fast-forward back to this spring. I called Jay to make sure he didn't mind that we got a few--apparently, you cannot buy just 1 or 2.  He assured me it was fine, but once they outgrew their trough-house (yes, I had an old water trough that the horses busted a while back just sitting waiting for a new purpose) we would either let them be free-range or think of something else, but he was not doing anything yet.  "This is your thing now, Kerri." So, we come home with our eight (you had to buy six, there were 8 reds in the pen...couldn't let the other 2 be alone) little hens and Caroline had her new project.  They were cute and easy...there were only 8, right?  Fast forward to two months later.  I am at work and my phone rings.  I answer and get "this is Donna from the post office, your chickens are here."  I reply with "ummm...I am sorry, did you say chickens?"  She assures me this is the number she was to call and that I had two dozen baby chickens sitting in a box on the loading dock waiting on me.  I thank Donna and tell her that a very nice man by the name of Jay will be up there shortly.  A super sweet call to said poultry purchasor and he said "great, they're here!" - I didn't ask another question.  I get home and there they are ...all 27 of the newbies.  You may just have asked yourself "27, I thought you said two dozen, Kerri?"  Yes, apparently they throw in a few "extras" ---just in case. So now fastforward 5 months and we are the proud owners of roughly 30 fowl children--well, 29 as one was murdered this weekend by Louie, the Polish Prick, I mean, Rooster.  More on Louie to come later on---at least, you now know he exists.

Parking Lot Pet Peeves and Italian Tendencies of the Young

I have lots of pet peeves, but one that bothers me the most people who illegally park in handicap parking spots when they are not handicapped. While this abuse takes place all over the nation, there is a common place -close to home- where it happens most. Where is this taking place you might ask? Well Thomasville's very own parking lot of the YMCA.  There is one vehicle in particular (I will withhold details of said car as the violator could very well be someone, someone else may know) that abuses this parking rule on a DAILY basis.  Even for a minute-and with your car running (stupid act #2)-you are not ALLOWED to park there!  So, the other day Caroline and I are parked (legally), getting our stuff, reading ourselves to walk in, and said violator comes in (at about 40mph) and parks all caddywankas (get that one spell check) taking up both handicap spots to let their kid (who lets remember is innocent in all of this) out.  The best part is that the parking lot was not crowded and there were numerous spots -legal ones- to park in just feet away.  Well, for whatever reason I had just had it and made my comment of "man, that really gets me."  My sweet child pipes up and asks "what's wrong, mommy?"  So, I tell her that someone is parking where they are not supposed to park and they are not handicapped so they are breaking the law.  Caroline looks at me and asks "so, why don't we make her handicapped so she can park there, mommy?"  While I know this was completely innocent as she is just trying to match a behavior to a rule, I couldn't help but detect a small amount of Tony Soprano in her sweet little voice and think I caught that "look" in her eye. For a second there I thought she was actually on to something...then I snapped out of it.  I replied with "well, we cannot do that, but maybe one day the police man will write her a ticket and she will learn her lesson."  Then Caroline asks more about the violator and why she is bad for breaking the rule.  Tyring to come up with a way for her to better explain, I mention how her Da(her grandfather) is allowed to park there- my father has a pass to park in handicap spots, he has a decal and also has a purple heart tag, he served our nation for 25 years and took more bullets for it than a LA crypt gang member- and not "lazy-able-body-Annie." 
What if he couldn't park where he needed to since this jackass (OK, I didn't call the violator a JA in front of Caroline) took his spot?  Well, Caroline got a little fired up when she realized that her Da just had "his" spot stolen. Again, I saw the twinkle in her eye and ...can I admit this, felt pride.  While I know there is not much I can do--lets face it, I live here, my child goes there and I am not about to become the law enforcer to someone who has no blatant awareness of their illiteracy or laziness (sorry, you cannot read that big ass blue sign, violator?)- I do know that one day they will learn her lesson.  Maybe one day while lazy-Annie leaves her car running, it will just "drive" away.  Maybe one day, someone will coordinate a fleet of permitted vehicles to block her in so she can be really late to wherever she feels she is SO important to get to, that she has to break the law with parking.  Maybe one day Deputy Dan will place a ticket on her windshield. or maybe one day I will bring Genga (AKA, my law dog) in to act as though she is "casing" the car for over-the-border drugs due to a "tip" called in. Who knows. I have more things in life to worry about and put forth efforts, but the fact that violator blatantly disregards others pisses me off. 

So, to the child of said violator, if a small quarter-Italian kid happens to not share the swing when you ask her for it (all while shouting something about her "Da") please know it is just a protective instinct....oh, and she will not be punished by me for that one.  Feel free to tell your parent when she is parked up front. 

Here we go...

Well, here goes nothing...


I have always had an interest in blogging since I like to ramble and have so many "crazy" stories that happen in my life - I feel like I need to share them so I don't lose it.  So, here we go...welcome to my mad and crazy world.  To get you (if any damn person reads this) caught up to speed, I have "bulleted" what I feel is important in getting to know me at this stage--ok, really there is SO much more, but here are some highlights.

• First of all, I cuss at times (some of those times are like a sailor) so as long as I don't lose this account due to my potty mouth, some bad words will be sneaking their way in some posts from now and then.  If that makes you uncomfortable...well, you should just stop reading now.
• I am not a gramarian...get over it if you catch a typo, grammatical error or misspelling.  I am not going for a Pulitzer here people.
• I think every being who resides on my property could have their own comedic show.  This includes humans as well as dogs and chickens.
• Speaking of chickens...we have 28 of them.  Yep, crap you not, 28 feathered friends who live on our property and provide my family, friends and random strangers an abundance of fresh eggs.  Please note, these "feathered" beasts will make many a post in the near future.
• I officially own wonder dog!  Yes, our newest family addition is a K-9 drug squad drop out whom I love dearly, almost as much as I do my hubby (kidding...ok, not really).  She listens to me, actually does what I ask her to do, exercises with me, and appreciates my inability to dance. 
• I have a not so wonder dog whom I love as well---she is just the reason I have to shampoo the carpets and experience high vet bills from time to time.  But, she lets Caroline do ANYTHING to her and she is one heluva snuggler.
• Two "retired" horses who do not give me any issues...just their love and fabulous ability to provide free therapy when I need it.  All they want in life is to be fed, given treats and groomed here and there - they are really the animal version of said husband.
• Oh, and btw...baby Knight #2 will make his/her arrival early next spring (this whole baby topic will be mentioned many a times as well...just a fair heads up, my friends).

Well, that will get us caught up for now.


Regards,
Kerri