Sooooo, I ran over FIVE ducks. Help me feel better, please?

After Monday morning, I now divide my life into two parts:

*B.I.K.F.D.

and

**A.I.K.F.D.

It's terrible.

So, it was a Monday morning and I was driving between 45 and 50 mph down a semi-busy four lane road with my 4-year-old in the backseat.  If you were stopped at this light, you would turn left and be close to where it all went down:




At the part of the road where "it all went down", there are two lanes traveling in one direction, a median, and two lanes traveling in the opposite direction. I was in the inside lane when all of a sudden, the car to my right slams on his brakes, which prompts me to...

Okay, I didn't slam on my brakes fast enough...

AND I HIT FIVE DUCKS.

Here's what I saw about a millisecond before that awful moment in time, except there were two adult ducks and about twice as many ducklings:


Source


Looking at that picture makes my heart break in TONS of pieces, y'all!!! Someone give me a Kleenex and I'm not kidding!

In very rapid pace, I saw a large duck flying toward my car at which point, I did this,

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!"

and he did this,

"AHHHHHHHHHQUAACKAHHHHHHHHHHHHQUACKAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!"

He flew UNDER my car. The impact of duck to SUV felt much like someone throwing a football at my front fender.

I quickly pull over into the median and I see the mother duck, I'm assuming, rushing over the median and into the other two lanes of traffic with her ducklings probably saying "Ohcrapohquackohcrapohquack". Meanwhile, the dad, the one who had just seen my oil pan, is kind of staggering around and looks much like a duck who has had too much to drink. (And, I'm sure we've all seen plenty of drunk ducks.)

(I'm not trying to make light of this because I don't think it is tragic. It helps me to cope.)

He finally straightens out his feathers, catches up with his family and they all disappear into the woods.

Yay!! He survived!!!

At that point, I only thought I had hit Dad Duck and that he survived, but I decided to go back to the scene of the crime immediately to double-check.

You know what I saw, right?

Four dead ducklings. Complete goners.

I wasn't sure what to do. They were tiny. I couldn't see myself scraping them up and burying them. What was I going to do that with anyway? Poor precious things. Poooooooooor, poor precious things.

"OH, NO!!! I killed those baby ducks!", I said to my 4-year-old while I clutched my face in my hands and stared at staggering Dad Duck.
"You killed baby ducks, Mom?"
"I didn't mean to kill them. They just walked out in the road out of nowhere! I don't even see water ANYWHERE around here. Where were they going?"
"Are they going to be dead forever, Mom?"

Those ducklings had probably just learned to walk. They had probably talked about their vacation to the other side of the four-lane busy street for weeks and then, KERSPLAT, I came along.

So terrible.

So, feeling like a worthless human being, I finally arrive home all sad and mopey still answering my son's question about the ducks being dead forever ("and ever?") because he asked it over and over ("and ever and ever?") and saw this when I got out of the car:




DUCK GUTS!!!

"Ahhhhhhhhh!!!!!!", I immediately yelled. Again. "IS THAT FROM THE DUCKS????"

It took me a few seconds to put it together that that actually wasn't duck guts and was actually the strawberry smoothie my 4-year-old decided to dump out of the window while the car was in motion. ("I didn't want it anymore.") My heart took a few seconds to get the message.

It wasn't long afterwards that I took the car to get it washed. I'm still fearful that I will look down at my tire and see a tiny, tiny duckling feather.

And, since then, my life hasn't been the same.

I keep feeling the bump on the car from Dad Duck plummeting into it. I keep seeing the dead ducklings in my head. I keep remembering how the mother just kept scurrying across the busy street with her other ducklings. I wondered how long she thought about those four. Did she get safely across the street and then stare at them for a while to see if they would move? Was she sad? Or did she just keep running to their vacation spot? Did Dad Duck have an awful headache? Did he have access to Neosporin?

I can't even take a bike ride with my two boys without feeling like a very large duck trying to keep her two ducklings from getting hit by a car. It probably doesn't help that my favorite bike-riding outfit is a Donald Duck costume.

I just was awful on our bike ride today. I possibly overreacted a time or two.


My ducks.

"DID YOU SEE THAT CAR? IT WAS TWO MILES AWAY AND PARKED ON THE ROAD! IT COULD HAVE HIT YOU!"

My son can't stop thinking about it either.

"Mom, is those ducks still dead?"

"Mom, I saw a rabbit when I went bike riding with Daddy and no one had hit it yet. No one killed it with their car."

Earlier today I said, "I still can't believe I hit those ducks" as we drove away from dropping my oldest off at school. My 4-year-old then said, "You hit some more?"

(That last question actually made me laugh out loud.)

Like any normal American, I turned to Facebook for some support earlier today. I asked if anyone else had hit an animal before. Here is the tally from the nine people who said they had also hit an animal with their car. As you can see from the list, some people have hit more than one animal in their lifetime. Make that more than two. Or three. No, four.

DEER: 2
SQUIRREL: 3
RABBIT: 1
DOG: 2
BABY ALLIGATOR: 1
BIRD: 1
CAT: 1
BUZZARD: 1
TURTLE: 1



Squirrels need to watch it.

My Facebook friends and family have been lots of help. My cousin's husband, Chris, sent me a Duck a l'Orange recipe. My cousin, Josh, answered the question, "How did you hit four ducks AT ONCE, Kelley?" questions with this answer: "She hit the first one, the second one looked back and said NOOOOO, splat...then the 3rd one looked back and said NOOOOOO, splat and so on." (He's a hunter. He's got tough skin when it comes to taking out ducks.)

Another friend, Tara, called me a birderer. A BIRDERER!!!!!!

*Grabs more tissues*

You have never hit anything before, have you? *Blows nose loudly* You have never extinguished the life (or lives) of precious, innocent animals with your mean, mean, mean, mean vehicle before, have you?

Or have you?

HAVE YOU EVER HIT AN
ANIMAL WHILE DRIVING?



In case you were still racking your brain over this one:
*B.I.K.F.D. = Before I killed four ducklings
**A.I.K.F.D. = After I...yeah, you got it.

____________________________________


Yay! It's that time of the week again! Anna and I look forward to reading your posts, so thanks for linking up. I could use a good laugh right about now!


Most Clicked Links from Last Week

#1 - 20 Tips From My Teen Barb Best

#2 - My Trip to the Wal-mart Clearance Bins Thistlewood Farms

#3 - Why Second Babies Tend To Come Early The Un-Coordinated Mommy

#4 - Pinterest Fail Runnin a Muck

#5 - Mommy's Getting Arrested HouseTalkN

Were You a Favorite?

Were you one of Steph's favorites last week? Steph from I'm Still Learning (formerly the Healthy Mom) is sharing her favorites.

I'm Still Learning Visit I'm Still Learning to see if you were featured!


How I Love Megan From "Bridesmaids", Let Me List The Ways...

Obviously, many loved Melissa McCarthy in Bridesmaids, because, like, she was nominated for an Oscar. She was HILARIOUS as Megan. So hilarious that I laugh out loud just thinking about her. She is on my mind tonight because we watched Bridesmaids this weekend. Again. My brother-in-law had never seen it before, so we stalked the Redboxes of the world looking for one still clutching the DVD inside it's red metal belly. (Weird imagery, right?) The Redbox DVD is just not good enough, though. It won't allow you to watch outtakes. THAT IS MY FAVORITE PART OF ANY COMEDY DVD. One of my favorite shows growing up was definitely "Bloopers and Blunders". Remember that? I can only imagine how funny that would be in Bridesmaids.

My love for Megan is so real that I actually made a little chart to tell you why I adore her so...

piZap.com free online photo editor, fun photo effects


Actually, these are reasons I love Melissa McCarthy. The girl was shameless. I love shameless. She's kind of like Will Ferrell-shameless. Oh, she's shameless! Shameless as a girl can be! (All that shameless talk had me getting Garth Brooks-shameless. I can't help myself. I live in Texas. Hello!)

All of that shameless talk leads me to a shameless plug...

-My post "My Top 7 Social Media Tips Wrapped Up In Fortune Cookies" is being featured over at The SITS Girls' website today. I would do split leaps if you'd check it out.

-My post "The Rules To Playing Candy Land, As Written By a 3-year-old" was re-featured over at NickMOM last week, so if you haven't yet check that out and you decided to do that right now, I'd do split leaps AND I'd top that off with a shuffle-ball-change.


(Did I ever tell you I heart Megan?)

(Did I ever tell you you're my hero?)

(And that I love to do shuffle-ball-changes in my dress shoes?)


I'm an Ambassador!

Homies, I HAVE to tell you something. I'm a Verizon Wireless Ambassador. What this basically means for you is that you wil hear me talking a little about the new incredible Incredible phone they sent to me. When Verizon asked me to be a part of the ambassador program, I jumped on the opportunity. I have an iPhone 3G now but it's running a little slow. It doesn't always work as quickly as I'd like it to work. Sometimes it just freezes. We weren't ready to purchase a brand new phone, so I have just been dealing with it. That's why when Verizon contacted me, I readily agreed to be sent a new phone. Why wouldn't I?

This is why I like the Verizon Incredible better than my iPhone 3G:
-it's way faster
-it has a flash when I take pictures
-it vibrates when I type, so it feels like I'm typing on a typewriter or something
-it is not encased in my disintegrating Otter Box that I have failed to replace yet
-my kids can't touch it because they might drop it and then I am responsible for replacing it, so it's MINE
-it allows you to e-mail multiple pictures at once
-I didn't have to pay for it

It also allows me to capture awesome pictures of our current living situation since we officially moved out of our house and into my sister's house this past Sunday.


My current shoe rack. (Please ignore those gold flip flops. I'm throwing them away today!) A day or so after we moved in with my sister, I couldn't find any shoes except the ones on my feet. We had to drive back to the storage facility. I climbed up and down boxes and finally found them. It was a tearful reunion. (This is the vignette mode on the camera feature of the Incredible.)

Living with my super healthy sister means getting introduced to products like "Lucky Duck" and "ghee" clarified butter. I feel like I'm sitting in the middle of Whole Foods when I'm in her kitchen. (Her husband has white bread and Cocoa Pebbles in the pantry, though.)



This is the laundry chute at my sister's house and it is my sons' favorite feature of the whole place. My kids are terribly deprived.



My sister and her husband don't have kids yet. I am trying extra hard to not get my sons to knock any holes in doors like they did THE DAY BEFORE WE CLOSED ON OUR HOUSE.

See?



Don't even get me started on the process of repairing that door. Let's just say I have never talked to so many old men at Home Depot and Lowe's in my life. IN. MY. LIFE. I'd write a whole blog post about that experience, but you'd probably shoot your computer screen out of frustration over reading about my frustration. It would just be too frustrating.

I am trying not to make my sister and her husband swear off having kids because of mine. They've been pretty good so far. No holes anywhere. At least it's just the four of us in their four bedroom, 3 bathroom house. The lady making my sandwich at Subway says she has a two bedroom apartment she shares with her sister, their combined 7 kids and a large dog.
Can you imagine?

So, that's the deal. I am trying not to make my sister and her husband swear off having kids, prevent holes from being formed in her house and am a Verizon Wireless Ambassador.

And I'll be back on Monday.

Maybe.

Still need to find a house...


The 5-Step Plan For Getting Your Man to Go With You Somewhere He Doesn't Want To Go (...and "Finding the Funny" #31!)

Before today, you never realized I had all the answers, did you? You never knew that I held the key to understanding how to communicate with a man? I am surprising myself, really. The vast knowledge I unknowingly possessed didn't become obvious to me until tonight. We were out eating with my sister and her husband, the unfortunate couple who now houses my family of four until we find a house of our own, when I began discussing how to approach a man when you want something. I'm not talking about the salt and pepper at dinnertime, ladies, I'm talking about big things like...him going with you to a wedding he doesn't want to go to, him being okay with a big shindig with lots of your girlfriends at your house which means he will have hole himself up in another room or go somewhere else while footing part of the bill, him "babysitting" his own kids plus a few more while you go to a baby shower or something. You know...things he doesn't really want to do. Your man may be different. Your man may love going to weddings of complete strangers, but many don't. Mine included. For sure.

So, I've developed a plan.

Actually, the plan has been there all along. You probably follow it. If you presently do not have a man, you probably followed this when you did have one or you have seen people close to you follow it or you are just super smart. Every woman knows the plan.

I'm just writing it down.

For the sake of illustrtation, let's pretend that you are wanting to ask your man to go to a wedding of a second cousin twice removed to the 11th power that he has never met. You really, really want him to go, but you know he would rather cut the entire front yard with child-safe scissors than go to that wedding. You know he saw the wedding invitation come in the mail and has purposely ignored it. You are pretty sure that if you don't put the invitation in a safe location fast, he will coat it in lighter fluid and throw it into a metal trashcan he bought just for the purpose of burning unwanted invitations. And pine needles.

But, you plan to ask him anyway.

You want him at the wedding, dingdangit.

So, you implement this 5-step plan:


Photo Source

STEP 1: SEED PLANTING-About a month away from the wedding, you nonchalantly mention that your second cousin twice removed to the 11th power (let's call her "Rhonda" from here on out) is getting married. You are not asking for a commitment from him, as you know you will not get one from him at this point. After all, he gave you "the look" as soon as "weh-" came out of your mouth.  YOU ARE SIMPLY PLANTING THE SEED.

Step 2:  FERTILIZING- There are multiple ways of fertilzing the seed you have recently planted, such as having him see you buy clothes, jewelry, etc. for the event, without coming right out and asking your man to come to that wedding with you. YOU CANNOT ASK HIM AT THIS POINT. You never, ever want to ask "Will you go to Rhonda's wedding with me?" this early in the game. After he asks, "Who's Rhonda?", he will say "NO", which is akin to a flock of birds coming into your garden and fighting over your seed!! One of them will get it or tons will get it, but, either way, in one piece or in several pieces, that seed is history! All of your work was in vain! That seed will soon be coming out of a bird's hind end in the form of white poo on top of your car! DO NOT LET YOUR SEED TURN INTO WHITE BIRD POO!

Step 3: WATERING- You must leave some time between fertilizing and watering. If you go straight from fertilizing to watering, he will know something is up. He will know that you are following some sort of plan. So, after ample time has passed, begin watering that seed. You will do this by mentioning how much fun it would be if he came to the wedding with you, how much you are looking forward to the wedding, how Rhonda will love the Tupperware juggling monkey you got her, etc.  If he looks like he is about to object, quickly bring up another subject or pretend your gall bladder has just burst.

Step 4: WATCH IT GROW- As the date of Rhonda's wedding quickly approaches, you will notice that his impulse to object becomes less intense. YOU ARE WEARING HIM DOWN. He will have seen the dress you bought for the wedding hanging up in the closet multiple times by now, especially since you hung it in front of his favorite shirt (good girl!), and will begin to realize that this is something you REALLY want to do. You will see that your efforts in step 1 through 3 have produced a pretty little plant already. You can't just come right out and say, "So, you're coming to Rhonda's wedding, right?" at this point, however, or he may get out the weed-eater and mow down your sweet plant. The timing is just not right yet.

Step 5: PLUCK THE SUCKER- No more playing around. The wedding is tomorrow! This is when you mention that childcare has been arranged, the present has been bought and that his white shirt with the new tie he got for Christmas two years ago will look so hot on him tomorrow at Rhonda's wedding. He will probably go into some spiel about how he never agreed to go to the wedding and he'll most definitely ask, "Who's Rhonda again?" This is where you will give him a look of hurt and astonishment. You assumed he was going all along! He doesn't know RHONDA?! This is news to you! After some huffing and puffing and blowing the house down, he'll come around and go to that wedding.

And he'll have fun.

(They always do.)








_________________________________

Guess who's back? Back again? Guess who's back, guess who's back, guess who's back...

Finding the Funny is back, but it never really left because we, like, do this every week. I just like to bust out a little Eminem when I get a chance. Anyway, it was awesome to have seen so many new faces last week! Yay!! So much funny in one place. I can hardly stand it. Thanks for linking up your new/old funny posts! Anna and I are grateful you trust it here. Remember that your post shows up here and over at Anna's place. Know that your posts are happy here, by the way. We feed them Thin Mints and give them fresh water, after all!

 

Most Clicked Links from Last Week

#1 - Posting Pics of Your Kids: Fair or Call CPS? Point Counter-Point Point Point

#2 - Crazy Neighbor Lady Abby Has Issues

#3 - Women who Pin The Mom of the Year

#4 - Things I Said to My Kids During 30 Minutes at IHOP Let Me Start By Saying...

#5 - My penis is made of Cartilage Happy Little Feet


Orange Julius E-Mailed Me!

You know about Orange Julius, right?


Source

Oh, dear me, some of you don't. I can tell by the way you are timidly holding up your hands. GOLLY BUM(something a late uncle always said that, for some reason, I keep reciting every single day as much as possible to irritate my husband), we need to get this cleared up NOW via my little timeline:

1980s: They were everywhere. I think that is why I love them so. Besides the fact that they taste like rainwater from heaven, they remind me of the days my mom, aunt, sister and cousin went shopping ALL DAY together. We would find time at some point for an Orange Julius. Drinking one made me feel loved and cared for, you know? If someone cared enough to buy me an Orange Julius, I could count on the fact that they wouldn't try to sell me at a garage sale. At least not more than once.

Later on: They were gone.

Even later: Saw one in San Antonio and another one in Atlanta. None in Houston.

More recent days: My heart ached over the memory.

Even more recent: Saw one! It was about an hour away and conjoined with Dairy Queen. Ordered the largest possible size, drank it slowly and agonized over when I could come back for another one.

Even more recent than my "even more recent" notch on the timeline: Went to a Dairy Queen near me, inquired about an Orange Julius, was met with a "Huh? What's Orange Julius?". Heart was crushed.

Soon afterwards: Wrote a post about it called "I Have An Orange Julius-Shaped Hole In My Heart". O.J. Simpson made an appearance in it even.

Undisclosed span of time: Daydreamed about an Orange Julius. Tried to fill my time with other things so the memory of having an Orange Julius just within my reach wouldn't paralyze me. Tried to make my own via the recipes on the internet and was met with disappointment at every turn. Contemplated smashing my blender to bits with a hammer.

Seriously recent: My sister tells me she saw a sign that says "ORANGE JULIUS SMOOTHIES COMING SOON" and then catches me as I faint.

Just after the "seriously recent" notch: Drive to that particular Dairy Queen. Ask about the arrival of the Orange Julius drinks even though this menu was staring me right in the face. They tell me I will have to wait two days. I begin to violent sob right there. People that came to the outside menu next thought it had rained in that spot only.



SAME DAY: My 7-year-old asks me when he can get an Orange JULIA. He is quickly set straight. Contemplate taking away his bike for an entire year.

THE VERY NEXT DAY: I GET AN E-MAIL FROM ORANGE JULIUS.

I got an e-mail from Orange Julius.

I got an e-mail from Orange Julius.

I got an e-mail from Orange Julius.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Someone in their company happened upon my post about my Orange Julius-shaped hole in my heart (see "Soon afterwards") and giggled. At least a little bit. It got forwarded around a bit and then...the e-mail.

The e-mail!

I was so excited.

Apparently, Dairy Queen will be welcoming Orange Julius drinks into their restaurants at over 4,000 locations in the next few months. HALLELUJAH!

You know what I'm going to say next, don't you? They gave me a gift card and gave me one to give away.

I already used mine.


Notice how that orange matches my blog so nicely?
DO YOU THINK THAT IS AN ACCIDENT?


While I was there, I saw the DQ workers wearing shirts that said "EMBRACE THE FROTH". So, of course, I said:

"I know you are going to find this question odd, but...do you sell those shirts?"
"Nah."
"Okay, okay. It's just that I write this blog..."
"For real?"
"Yeah, I write this blog and I'm going to mention Orange Julius in-"
"For real?"
"..it and, yeah, I thought it would be fun to have a shirt."
"For real?"
"Yeah, for real. You know what? Never mind. I know you don't sell them anyway! Thanks!"

That would be the second time I've embarrassed myself at Dairy Queen over an Orange Julius. The deep pain and horrible humiliation is all worth it.

Sooooo, if you want to try an Orange Julius or if you want to reunite with the blissful orange-vanilla dreamicle-y frothy drink you remember so well for free, JUST LEAVE A COMMENT.


3 Things You Don't Want To Find When You're Moving (and it's "Finding the Funny" time!)

If you have been around this blog or my Twitter page or my blog's Facebook page, you know we're moving. I am typing this right now on an old laptop I was able to find and am sitting on a mattress on the floor in my room with suitcases all around me. We are still in our old house and have not found the new one. And school starts in less than 2 weeks. And I look like a yak's armpit.

And my husband is outside still packing stuff into our "pod" and UHaul truck at 10:45 at night while I'm engaging in a little social media, which I have grossly neglected. Feeling a bit guilty, but only a bit because he slept in later than me this morning. (I have actually neglected social media so much recently that my Twitter followers are hitchhiking their way off my page as we speak.)

Right now my world is moving, finding a house, packing, figuring out how to load tape into a tape "gun", being torn between packing dishes or popping bubble wrap the entire day, telling my sons they can't ride their bikes all the livelong day and eating bad food because all of our dishes, pots and pans have been packed. That's my excuse for shoving several onion rings into my mouth less than 2 hours ago, anyway. So, since I'm sort of the moving expert at the moment, you'll take my word for it when I tell you about some things you don't want to find when you're moving, such as...


All of these have to be moved tomorrow. Most of the ones in this picture are Christmas decorations.  Oopsy-daisies.

...a constable walking up your driveway because your 4-year-old and 7-year-old sons called 911. Not long ago, I showed them on my Pottery Barn rotary phone how to call 911. I did this on this phone because there was no need to push "talk" or "power" or anything fancy. So, they decided to try it out. It worked. My 4-year-old thought the constable was coming to arrest him for calling 911.

This is where it all went down. It's sort of a fake rotary phone that works.


...yourself in the dark pod with a flashlight at 11:00 at night looking for the small black toolbox that you accidentally packed when your husband asked you to leave it out. You say that you did leave it out, but can't find it, so you go to look for it. You come back in the house a few times with gadgets that you are told aren't the right gadget, so you keep looking and finally find it on the floor of the pod hidden behind another box. Technically, it was left out because it wasn't in a box. Your husband said that doesn't count and that it wasn't left out enough. You tell him that you are going to find a big box and pack him in it if he keeps talking about that blasted toobox.

...a ridiculed piano crying in the corner feeling unloved and really, really, really heavy. You try to console it and let her know that she is too dadgum heavy but that you love her just like she is... You assure her that you will play her again one day, even though you average a piano song about 2 or 3 times a year. You tell her that maybe your sons will learn to play her and that they may become the next Justin Timberlake or Jamie Foxx on the piano. You tell her she will be a celebrity in the upright piano world. None of it matters because she overheard your husband say he wishes she would fall into a deep lake.

Yeah, you don't want to find those things, right? Especially that distraught piano. That's heavy stuff. The topic is heavy. I don't mean the piano is hea... Oh, hold on, y'all. She heard me and she's crying again.

(That piano needs some counseling.)

Before I run off and start shoving Tupperware and Rubbermaid (who, by the way, are threatening to beat the living plastic out of each other soon) into boxes, I wanted to tell you that Linda from It All Started With Paint is debuting my post "The Very Frisky Masseuse: Should I Press Charges? (Kidding. Sort of.)" over at her blog today. If you have not read it or have not visited Linda's blog before, you might want to do that! You can learn about masseusesseseseseses that get fresh while also being inspired by Linda's awesome decorating talents. I wish I could move to her house...

It's also "Finding the Funny" today, so link up your new or old humor posts! We would love to laugh at your stuff! I promise that I will be back to reading the posts and leaving comments as soon as I move out of this house! I seriously miss your faces.


Most Clicked Links from Last Week

#1 - I Almost Crapped My Pants in an Elevator. Twice. Let Me Start By Saying...

#2 - Hillbilly Hygiene: Commonplace Crazy Commonplace Crazy

#3 - This blog is so awesome it farts unicorns Wub Boo Mommy

#4 - Stuff People Say To New Moms Stroller Parking Only

#5 - Birthday Bargain Just Keep Swimming


7 Ways You Can Be More Like "Honey Boo Boo Child"

Honey Boo Boo Child with her mother. Source

#1 Have everyone call you "Honey Boo Boo Child". Obviously. If that is too much of a stretch, put your name in the place of "Honey". You can be a Misty Boo Boo Child or a Kelly Boo Boo Child or an Agatha Boo Boo Child even. Shoot, if you are being like Honey Boo Boo Child, you can do whatever you want. Honey Boo Boo Child runs the show.

#2  Have your family wear your name on a t-shirt. This works best if you have converted them and they are now calling you Stacy Boo Boo Child or Jennifer Boo Boo Child or Bernice Boo Boo Child. It looks more legit, you know? If they're being difficult and won't call you what you have explicitly asked them to call you, then just have your boring name placed on a t-shirt. Make sure there is an exclamation point at the end, though.

#3 Eat Cheetos or pork skins for breakfast. To be most like Honey Boo Boo Child or her family, eat them after they have fallen on a dirty carpeted floor. Also, have someone nearby you say "You know yew goan pick every one of them up!" after they have dropped to the floor. This will make you feel like you are really at Honey Boo Boo's house.

#4 Walk around saying "A dollar makes me holler, honey boo boo". Even though Honey Boo Boo Child has been on Anderson Cooper's show and everywhere else, people may not know what you are talking about. It really doesn't matter. What is important here is that you are trying to be like Honey Boo Boo and, if people don't like it, they can kiss your grits.

#5 Make "go-go juice" at all of your parties, showers and school functions. The recipe is 1 part Red Bull to 1 part Mountain Dew. If you must, put it in a cute punch bowl, but know that Honey Boo Boo Child would never bother with that mess. She chugs it straight from a bottle and, if it's good enough for the REAL Honey Boo Boo Child, it should be good enough for you and all of your friends.

#6 Have your mom start cutting coupons. Lots and lots of coupons. Ask her to store up tons of paper towels so that you can come over for a friendly paper towel package fight. Also, when you are over there, ask her to wash her hair in the sink. If she looks at you like you are crazy, start crying like Honey Boo Boo Child does when she doesn't win a crown, which is, like, every time she competes. Poor boo boo. :(

#7 Pretend your muffin top is actually a large mouth. The next time you are at a PTA meeting or talking to your boss, lift up your shirt, bunch your fat together with your hands and then jiggle it around it around like it is talking. If you don't have enough fat to do that with, use a friend's. Also, be sure to use an extra deep voice when your muffin top has got something to say. This is AN ABSOLUTE MUST if you are trying to be like Honey Boo Boo herself. Go big or go home, people.



Can you think of other ways we can be more like Honey Boo Boo Child?


The Life Cycle of Kids' Art (at least mine) AND "Finding the Funny"

I can tell just by looking at you that this never happens to you. I am willing to bet that you save every last piece of artwork your kid has ever created for you. You have them all filed in a file drawer in your home office.  Weekly you go through them and write sweet notes about what your child's milestones were at the moment they drew, painted, chalked, colored, markered or penciled the masterpiece before you. Trying to really  make your child's artwork stretch and bless others, you have even made several placemats out of them for family members. Those images not made into placemats have been either framed for your home, framed for family members or made into a calendar that you give to all of your extended family. Those that remain in the file folders are regularly visited and beamed upon.

You have never thrown a single piece of art created by your child in the trash can ever. In fact, the thought repulses you and you are having serious reservations even being on this blog at all because you fear I am going to suggest doing just that. You are very tempted and thiiiiiiiiiis close to just moving on to the next post on your list. If you are sticking around it's because you want to see how the others half of humanity lives. The half that actually throws away a piece of work created by their very own child for their parent's enjoyment. Work that has been disregarded and placed in a pile of GARBAGE. You. Are. Sick. About it.

I thank you for reading this far.

With the exception of a handful of pieces of artwork that I keep in a box for each child each year, this is generally...


THE LIFE CYCLE OF KIDS' ART
(At least mine)


*You play dumb 2nd time around. And also 3rd. You get better at hiding with each repetition. Eventually, your kid wears you down and you give up. Your entire house then becomes covered in artwork, family tells you to can it with the artwork gifts and you appear on an episode of Hoarders. 

**Said while shaking off banana pieces (the 2nd time around).



(Please don't hold this whole art issue against me. I "ooo" and "ahhh" in a really sweet and in an as-sincere-as-possible voice. Does that help at all?)


________________________________

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"Ju" Can Make A Difference: The Inspiring Story of a 7-year-old Girl Winning the Fight Against Cancer

Can I introduce you to a precious 7-year-old girl?

Her name is Julia Cobb.


And she is amazing.

Here is Julia with one of the 25  horses that are a part of a digital mural that she helped to design, along with about75 other kids and their parents. It adorns the outside of  M. D. Anderson's Children's Cancer Hospital in Houston, Texas and is named "Light, Hope, Wonder". Julia and her brother and sister named the mural and were able to cut the ribbon when it was unveiled, a celebration that included The Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey circus. An article, and more pictures, about it can be found here.



Funny thing is, though...I haven't actually met her.  I met her dad in an elevator at M. D. Anderson Cancer Center.  According to U.S. News and World Report, M. D. Anderson is the number one hospital in the United States for cancer care. People come from all over the world for treatment here. They also come from Alabama, which is where Julia and her family lived before her diagnosis.

In my "normal life", I work a few hours a week as a speech pathologist at a local hospital during the week. This summer, however, I worked 3 full days a week at M. D. Anderson, a place I have worked for the last 13 years. I quit working there full-time 7 years ago, though, when my oldest was born. I now go back for short stints to help them out when they are in a bind.

I met Julia's dad the day before I left.

As I was leaving the ICU that day, I stepped into the elevator with Julia's dad, Jonathan. He was pushing a toddler in a stroller. He mentioned that he was, unfortunately, very familiar with this gigantic hospital and was able to actually help people find their way around. He shared that he had cancer back in 2006 and that his mom has cancer now.


He said his 7-year-old daughter, Julia, does, too.


My oldest son is 7.

Immediately, tears stung my eyes. It seems that every year that I return to that hospital, tears sting my eyes quicker than they did before.

I quickly wiped them away.

Julia's dad wasn't sad. He was upbeat and positive and encouraging and...well, amazing himself. As I stood in the hallway and listened to Jonathan talk about how inspirational his sweet daughter was to everyone around her, the only thing you could do was smile.

Our whole conversation began because he was wearing a positive shirt designed by Julia and her sister, Jenna, that made me curious about the story behind it. This one:



Source


When Julia was diagnosed with Ewing's sarcoma, a very rare bone cancer that affects children and adolescents, Jonathan pointed out to Julia that the first three letters of the word "cancer" are C-A-N. They put Julia's nickname "Ju" together with those letters to make "JUCAN", which quickly became Julia's theme. On the back of the shirt are the words "JUCAN, YOU CAN, GOD CAN". He also pointed out that the word "Ewing" also contains the word "WIN".

They stay positive because they seem to know no other way.

Listen to Julia talk about the day she first learned something was wrong:
"Santa Claus was coming soon! As a six year old girl that's all I could think about. Shortly before Christmas I told my parents my shoulder hurt. and they discovered a big lump on my back. The doctors in Alabama said it might be cancer. My daddy, who is a cancer survivor, quckly put me on a plane and took me to the MD Anderson Cancer Center in Houston, the best cancer hospital in the whole wide world so I could be treated. The doctors at MD Anderson took a sample of my tumor and told my parents it was cancer on December 23.
 
It was sad for me to go to Houston with my mother and baby sister and leave my brother, Jonathan, my sister, Jenna, and Dad  in Birmingham.  I couldn't go to school with them anymore and play after school.  They had to stay with my dad because he had to work.   I don't like being away from all of my family and friends.   But I know when chemo and surgery is over, I will run and play with them again because with Christ all things are possible."


Julia loves to support and encourage others in the midst of her trials. She has designed shirts and bracelets to raise funds not only for her situation and her family, but for friends of hers fighting cancer, too. This definitely makes my heart happy, as there are so many precious little ones at M. D. Anderson, and all over the world, fighting cancer at this very minute.

Here is Julia encouraging the United States' Olympic team. Source


I know it would mean TONS to Julia if she received an encouraging message from you on her Facebook page or via Twitter. You can also visit her blog HERE. I am certain her heart would be lighter if tons of us just "liked" her Facebook page and/or followed her on Twitter today as a way of showing our support for her and for children fighting cancer all over the world. Right now, the morning of August 6th, 2012, she has 851 followers on Facebook and 106 followers on Twitter. Let's bump that way up!


Here is Julia meeting Tim McGraw at his concert with Kenny Chesney in Houston on Saturday night. Tim McGraw gave Julia his guitar pick. Julia shared on her Facebook page that one of her favorite songs was "Live Like You Were Dying". It is one of her Dad's favorites, too. Source




As another way of cheering her on, I would LOVE to share Julia's newest Olympics-inspired shirt, designed by Julia and her sister, Jenna with you. Portions of the proceeds from this shirt will benefit the M. D. Anderson Children's Cancer Center. The shirt is $20, which you can purchase here. Today, though, I would LOVE to give three of  you this shirt or, if you'd prefer, her purple "JUCAN" shirt or purple bracelet. All you have to do is leave a comment. I will pick randomly from the list, contact you in about a week and ask which you would like.

Red, white and JU! Don't you love that?? Source


Thanks for inspiring us all, Julia! You are a beautiful, beautiful girl!

(Go USA!)


Do you remember your school's fight song? My grandmother does. (It's also "Finding the Funny" time!)

My grandmother will be 88 this year.

She still remembers her school's fight song and it goes a little something like this:

"Strawberry shortcake, Gooseberry pie!
V-I-C-T-O-R-Y!
Will we win it?
Well, I guess!
Tomball, Tomball, YES, YES, YES!!!"

You have to see her to really appreciate the emphasis she gives to those last three words. She raises her fist and really lets the air have it. She graduated high school when she was 16, so that would have been around 1940. She tells us that she was on just about every team- volleyball, basketball, softball... I believe it, too. She's one strong lady. Once when we all checked into a hotel together back in the 1980s, the hotel clerk asked my grandmother if she could climb the stairs to the second floor. I looked at him like he was a crazy nutball fruitcake Teenwolf wacko and said, "My grandmother can climb a mountain!" He should've known better than to mess with this lady and by "this lady", I mean me and by "me", I mean "my grandmother" and by "my grandmother" I mean me and by "me" I mean the enchiladas they serve at Panchos and by "the enchiladas they serve at Pancho's" I mean absolutely nothing.

My grandmother, my "Nana", is one of my favorite people ever.

I have always LOVED reciting her school's fight song. They sing about gooseberry pie, for goodness sake. I have no idea what a gooseberry is or what pie made from them would taste like, but I love singing about them. The other day I started chanting it and my 4-year-old kept asking me to sing it over. He likes gooseberry pie, too, apparently. My husband wanted to toss me out the sun roof by my 18th round.

I thought her fight song was unique, but after Googling it, I ran across this dude below named Joe Diroff. He was nicknamed "The Brow" in honor of his really long gray eyebrow fur. At first, I didn't like Joe. He ruined the image of my grandmother being the sole chanter of strawberry shortcake-esque fight songs left on the planet. After reading about him, though, I started wishing I could stick Joe Diroff right in my back pocket.

Source
He was apparently a common sight at Detroit games and was actually able to be found on the Pistons court acting the fool. He would get the crowd behind him at basketball games, baseball games and football games while he would LOUDLY recite things like:

"They'll never CATCH UP, 'cuz they can't cut the MUSTARD!"

and

"Let's get pumped up!"
(while carrying a bicycle pump)

and

"Can we do it, are we tough?
We're the Lions, RED HOT STUFF!"
(Don't you love the thought of an elderly old man cheerleader?)

and

"Let's go bananas!!"
(while carrying a...banana!)

and

You guessed it...

"Strawberry shortcake, gooseberry pie..."

He was like the Carrot Top of elderly male cheerleaders with all of those props. He'd get a broom out if it looked like his team was going to "sweep" the other one. I wish I could have been at a game to see him reciting them, especially the one about the mustard. That is so cheesy. Actually, it's more mustard-y. And also my favorite.

He died in 1997. He was 74. By my calculations, he would've been 89 this year. I guess back when my grandmother and The Brow were young, the gooseberry pie cheer was all the rage. I love that they were born around the same time and have been reciting their school's fight song ever since.


Gooseberries. (What in the heck?) Source


Do you remember any school cheers?




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