I blame the spider

Originally published in the Miami News-Record, May 2019 

“Terrified” doesn’t adequately express how I feel about spiders. Abject horror, paralyzing, gut-deep fear is more accurate, but not quite. When bad weather is imminent, someone else must sweep the cellar. I would rather face down an EF5 tornado wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt, leggings and my Crocs flip-flops rather than go into the cellar with creepy crawlies. We knew the storms would get going early in the day, so that morning Kady swept it out. I inspected and found it to my liking. 

For most of the other warnings (so. many. warnings.) that day it was basically get the kids, babies, and dog in the cellar and I stayed out. If I did go under, it wasn’t for long. It’s my duty as a lifelong Okie to stand in the yard during any tornado warnings. I think it’s in our DNA and I’m pretty sure my parents signed some kind of oath when I was born that they would continue this tradition with their offspring. 

Once Paul got home from work, he and I kept our vigil together on the porch while our little brood was tucked safely underground. After warning Number ?, we knew we had about an hour until the next one hit, so everyone came up, we got out stuff for sandwiches, and let the girls run a bit. I had no more finished making my sandwich when another warning went off. We were so tired of the chaos it took to get everyone down there so we waited a bit. I stood in the yard and watched the clouds. It felt different. Finally I told everyone to GO. I stood at the door of the cellar and watched the clouds start to rotate. Abby came up to video it and then the wind switched direction and even Paul, the tornado naysayer said, “GET UNDER!” The grandgirls were happily watching “Bubble Guppies” on their tablets, the dog was asleep on her bed, we had to threaten the men to refrain from any and all farting. It was pretty calm inside while the outside was a hot mess. Petal got sleepy, so I sat down in a lawn chair to put her to sleep. I felt a plop on top of my head.

About the time I said, “I think someone needs to check my head to make sure that was rain and not a bug,” Abby said in the calmest voice I’ve ever heard, “Mom. Don’t freak out. [absolute certainty I was definitely going to freak out] There is a spider over your head.” If she had said that while in a house, I’d have simply gotten up and run. In an 8x8 cellar you don’t run. You are trapped. You are trapped with a spider dangling menacingly over your head and there’s not a doggone thing you can do about it. It was actually a raindrop that had hit my head, but I imagined a virtual waterfall of spiders raining down from the tiny vent over my head. I let an involuntary whimper escape. Everyone in the cellar was just staring at me. Abby, again so calm, said, “Mom. I’m going to take off my shoe so I can kill it. I need you to slowly get up and not drop my kid, okay?” I got up and went as far away as I could get while she whacked that eight-legged monster with my favorite flip-flop (her shoes had gotten soaked earlier, so she was in my Crocs flips - shame I have to burn them now. Or at least, the left one.) “Okay, it’s done. It’s stuck to the ceiling but—“ I interrupted her with a shrieked, “IT’S STILL ON THE CEILING?!?!” And once again, my eldest, the voice of reason, said, “Mom. It’s the best I can do. It’s dead. Stay calm.” And then my youngest asked if she could wipe my tears. The tears I didn’t realize I was crying because I was so blasted scared out of my mind. It was not my proudest moment. But I did learn that my girls definitely know how to take care of their momma. 

Okies Underground

Published in the Miami News-Record, April 12, 2015 

Those who know me best know that I am kind of a weather freak. I become somewhat obsessed with the weather this time of year and I consider Dr. Greg Forbes, Jim Cantore, and Mike Bettes the holy trinity of The Weather Channel. I love Dr. Forbes so much I have considered writing him fan mail or at the very least, naming my next cat after him.

As a kid, when the TV (a console behemoth that commandeered 85% of the living room) began emitting the ear-splitting tone that for most meant “Take cover now!” all I heard was the siren song of the National Weather Service warbling “Go stand in the yard and look for the funnel!” I can only remember there being a handful of times as a kid that we actually drove the mile-and-a-quarter to Papa’s where there was a cellar – and never once did we ever step foot underground. I remember on one of the rare stormy treks to Papa’s, very vividly seeing the tail of a funnel cloud dip down out of the clouds and Mom pointing it out. Sis and I stood on that little back porch and simultaneously spoke a reverent “Wowwwwwwww”. But we never ran for that cellar. Probably because Mom knew there were mice in it and she’d rather be swept up in a funnel straight into Jesus’ arms than seek shelter with a host of rodents.

Now, some 30 years later, my kids know that when Momma says TOR:CON more than about 10 times in a day, they should probably go ahead and pack their tornado bags because it is almost certainly inevitable we will go underground at some point. If you look up my family on Ancestry.com you might very well find we are descendants of moles as much as we go below the ground’s surface in the spring.

Last Thursday afternoon Sis called and asked if I had been watching the weather. I answered, “Duh.” She then asked if we had a cellar at the new house. Again, I answered, “Duh.” Then she asked if we were going to be home. You don’t need me to tell you how I answered. After confirmation she said, “Good. We’re coming out. I’m bringing pizza.” Yessssssss. We had an all-out party while we watched radar images online, TWC on TV, and had the NOAA radio on the kitchen counter. Once the NOAA radio started going off I hollered for a mass bathroom visit for all of the kids seeing as how a few years ago it was when the tornado was visible in the sky that everyone suddenly had to pee. When everyone’s phones started screeching A TORNADO IS IN YOUR AREA – TAKE COVER NOW we managed to get four parents, one adult child and her 60 pound dog, five kids, and my infant nephew in the cellar in under two minutes. It was nothing short of military perfection.

We were safe and sound – albeit not altogether comfortable – underground for about half an hour. The baby barely fussed and eventually fell asleep. The dog took up more room than anyone and eventually started to snore. The boys said the pizza made them gassy. The girls played games on an iPad. We talked, passed the baby, texted people on the outside for updates.  And even though we had two teenage boys in an enclosed 5x8’ concrete box, we weren’t even gassed out by anyone’s noxious fumes. Maybe my sister’s vehement threat of dismemberment if anyone so much as thought about farting had something to do with that. ‘Tis the season for storms, my fellow Okies. Get a weather radio and keep batteries in it. Friend me on Facebook – I’m quite dedicated in my meteorological annoyances. Find a shelter and make a plan. 

And if you have teenage boys, throw a bottle of Gas-X in your emergency kit. Just in case. 

The Helpful Place

I absolutely love going to Ace Hardware because they greet you at the door, ask you what you are looking for and immediately direct you to the aisle you need. Then as you walk away, they get all Secret Service-ish and speak softly into their mic, "I have a customer heading to Aisle 4 in need of a sink drain," like suddenly your plumbing needs are vital to national security.

Today I had several things I needed and was going to visit more than one aisle. I wasn't sure where to begin. We're getting ready to clean out the cellar in anticipation of 'Nader Season here in Oklahoma and there are brown recluse, black widows and wasps in there. With that many critters taking up residence in my 'Fraidy Hole, I'd rather take my chances with the twister. The kids and I had planned on de-bugging and cleaning it this weekend and I needed serious varmit destruction.

When the friendly greeter at the door said hello and asked what I needed today, smiling I said, "Oh.....I have a lot of things to pick up. I think I'll just go it alone." She smiled and said, "Great! Thank you for choosing Ace!" and as I walked away I heard her softly speak into her mic, "I have a female customer..... walking down the main aisle.....she's wearing a black sweater and says she has a LOT of things to buy. Someone find her and HELP HER!"

I was laughing so hard by the time I got to the spider traps because I had about four guys in red vests trailing me as I leisurely browsed each and every aisle between the front door and the pest aisle. A super nice guy with gorgeous silver hair "won" me when I finally stopped at the spider traps and after we visited about those horrible demonic vermin and squared that nasty bit of business away, I inquired about wasp traps.

He stepped in closer and his voice got low as he looked around. I felt like we were in an alley and he was going to offer to sell me a watch out of his vest. He literally looked over his shoulder twice before he finally  said, "Well, I can sell you one of these here, but just last night on Facebook I saw the directions on how to make your own...."

When I got back to the car, the kids nearly in chorus asked, "THEY DIDN'T HAVE WASP TRAPS!?!?" (We might have some anxiety about wasps at our house...) I then told them about the silver-haired Facebooker and his homemade traps and how we, too, were going to make our own. They were completely unconvinced and one of them offered to pay for store-bought guarantees themselves.

Abby just shook her head and said, "Uh, Mom. You should've just totally friended him right there. That's what we teenagers do! Then you'd have the directions right there on your wall!"

Pest Control the Gen Y Zuckerberg way.

Well, Hello There...

I swear to you, I do not know where all my time goes these days! I turn around twice and it's been three weeks since I've posted here (or three months, but ya know...who's counting) and I'd swear to you I just posted a day or two ago. The blog is on my mind a lot and my brain is so completely full of blog posts, I'm surprised my head hasn't exploded. Of course, also floating and bumping around there in my noggin are recipes I want to try, the fact that we are out of paper towels and I keep forgetting to write it on my list when I walk by the fridge, the ever-present quest to teach my children the correct use of quotation marks (seriously, I can't figure out why this is escaping them the way it does!) and the fact that I really need to sweep my bedroom before the dust bunnies start to resemble something from The Walking Dead. So I suppose it's no wonder the blog posts get jumbled around and never written down.

In super exciting news, I recently had a piece on homeschooling published in the local newspaper. My first love as far as local news will always be WelchOK.com. They will always, always be my favorite Welchkins and the folks who gave me my first chance to write for the masses outside my own blog and have never once given me a deadline (although, a deadline might prompt me to actually you know....write there), but the opportunity to write for the Miami News-Record kind of fell in my lap one morning and I took it. It was pretty exciting, I gotta say, seeing my words in print and knowing there were all kinds of strangers out there reading it while they drank their Sunday morning coffee. I also realize there may be folks out there who lined their hamster cages with it, too, but I focus more on the idyllic coffee drinker being inspired and amused by my writing. If you want to check it out, feel free. And if you want to print it out and line your hamster cage with it, well, that just seems superfluous and rude, but I hope your hamster is inspired to homeschool in the process.

This past Tuesday was our 100th day of school. Public schools all over had their 100th day celebrations a few weeks back and while we started two weeks earlier than public school, we've also taken off a week extra at Christmas and have had a little more flexibility with our schedule. We'll finish on time, I have no doubt, especially since we don't have parent/teacher conferences (when I talk to myself, people laugh) and federal holidays and professional days. It will all balance.

The plan for several weeks had been to go to the state Capitol with Delinda and her boys for Homeschool Day (on our 100th day, no less) and while both of my girls were less than enthused, Sam and her oldest had already made plans to be the other's wingman and had developed a pretty decent arsenal of teenage boy pick-up lines. A few days prior to the scheduled trip, the weather started showing snow in the forecast. Then it fizzled. Then it flared. And fizzled. Monday, Delinda and I had both checked the forecast for the City and it was just looking too iffy and tumultuous to attempt. The forecast for during the day here at home was fine, but we had both already planned the day out of actual schoolwork and the kids were prepared for a day of fun together. Eventually we settled on heading north, away from the snow/ice/sleet/wind combo our own great state was throwing at us, and went to Springfield, MO, to Incredible Pizza.

Field trips on a week day are wonderful! We essentially had the place to ourselves, and Chip, the typically less-than-friendly manager, gave Delinda and I each a free turn in the 6D theater with the kids. We each had a pass to ride it once, but our buddy Chip threw in an extra. We later discovered that while you are inside the theater, enjoying the show, squealing and being tossed about in your smokin' sexy giant black 3D glasses, everyone outside the theater gets to watch YOU on a public TV screen. We're preeeeeeety sure that we got the extra show because Chip and his buddies were laughing at us on the outside. *blush*

As we were driving out of Springfield, it began sprinkling and by the time we got to their house, just over the state line, it was raining. We were already too late to make it to a Bible study we had going on at church, so we stopped at the RedBox in Fairland and as I checked out, big, giant, fluffy, wet snowflakes began to fall. It was just about the most perfect 100th day of school I've ever had.

A Scary Week

Sunday after church we came home to eat a bite of lunch then drove into town to an auction Mom was working. The kids wanted to go to Joplin to shop, but thank God Paul and I both felt that with the weather being iffy and storms forecasted to move in that evening we decided not to. We are totally big chickens when it comes to weather and don't stray too far from the 'fraidy hole when we know it's likely to get bad. We didn't even go to church that night, however Mom and Dad did. I called her while they were driving toward the church (which is about 2.5 miles from our house) and said, "Keep your phone on silent if you need to, but keep it where you can see it go off. I will text you if we go under any warnings. It takes less than five minutes to get here, so be ready." She assured me she would, but seeing as how she thinks I'm a nervous Nelly with weather I figured she wouldn't heed my warnings.

Paul and I had the kids pack their 'nader bags and put them underground, then we settled in to watch the storms roll in. We were watching the local NBC affiliate when the tornado warning for Joplin was issued and were also watching the tower cam when the tornado appeared on the screen seemingly unbeknownst to even the newscasters on the air live. They were showing graphics of tornado safety tips and the radar, but when they popped it over to the tower cam even they were feeling the same shock and awe we were as we saw a HUGE tornado hitting the city of Joplin. We could see the flashes as it took out power poles. We all five sat in horror and watched it slowly destroy everything in its path. I happened to be on the phone with Sis, who lives in Yukon, OK, and I kept saying, "You don't understand! It's happening RIGHT NOW! Even Jeremiah Cook and Caitlin McCardle didn't know it was there and THEY'RE THE METEOROLOGISTS!" She hung up with me to call her ex because he was on his way back here to Miami with my niece and nephew at the time. They weren't in danger, but she wanted him to be aware of what was going on.

Our NOAA radio was about to wear itself out it was going off over and over with various t-storm watches and warnings, followed by tornado warnings right and left. I text Mom and told her it was getting bad and we were going to the cellar. I was on Facebook and saw where someone said there was a tornado on the ground in Fairland. We are about five miles north of Fairland. That was when I called Mom. In church. She answered in a whisper and I said, "WHERE ARE YOU?" She said, "Hudson Creek. At church. Why?" I said, "Mom, I just heard there is a tornado on the ground in Fairland. Y'all need to take cover NOW."  Mom interrupted the preacher and told him. He said, "Oh. Okay, well, we should probably stop what we're doing then." About that time a first responder's radio went off and he ran out the door. He came back in moments later and said the tornado was in Ketchum, not Fairland, so the threat was somewhat less, but still imminent. They prayed and dismissed. Mom and Dad came here right after we came up from the cellar. We went in the house and watched in horror as the first pictures from Joplin started coming in.

Mike Bettes, with the Weather Channel, has been doing his Great Tornado Hunt this past week and drove into Joplin on the heels of the devastating twister. When a seasoned, veteran meterologist is rendered speechless and cries shamelessly on camera surveying the devastation and horror you know it's bad. We sat and cried as we saw the town we knew so well was now completely unrecognizeable. The surreality of it was stunning.

Monday we woke up to rain and the rain wouldn't stop. It rained so hard our main pond here at the ranch overflowed its banks and then some. Our driveway washed out to where I wasn't sure my van wouldn't get lost in it. Sam was supposed to go to basketball camp that morning, but his coach called me to see what I thought and also reassured me that they would take the kids to the safe room at the slightest hint of anything severe. It eased my mind and I decided to go ahead and take him. Then about 30 minutes later as I'm running my three kids and Conner to the cellar because there is rotation over my house, I text Coach and said we wouldn't be there. He already had kids in the safe room. By noon, the severe threat was over, however the rain just kept coming. I decided to go ahead and send Kady to the afternoon girls session of basketball camp and Sam stayed with her. At 12:30 the water was over our dirt road, but still passable. By 2:30 when Abby, Conner and I left the house to pick them up it was so high it was up the bottoms of the van doors. I called Paul and said, "You should probably come home as soon as you can. We're going to be flooded in soon." I turned out onto the highway and made it nearly a mile to the low water bridge and watched a car stall out trying to go through. I turned around and made a frantic call to my mother: "MY KIDS ARE IN FAIRLAND AND I CANNOT GET TO THEM!!" She tried to direct me down other dirt roads, but my van sits so low I didn't dare chance anything. I called Chad, Conner's daddy, and asked if he could get to the kids. He said he could and that he thought he could get through the low water bridge, too, seeing as how he drives a big ol' Dodge. Paul called to say he was in his Thunderbird and could I call Chad to see if he could wait for him, too? Poor Chad ran a taxi service that day, ferrying wandering Hoovers home. The Highway Department closed the low water bridge just as they got there and after an hour and a half of driving around trying to find passable roads, they made it here.

Miami canceled school the following day because of the widespread flooding and threat of severe weather the following day (Tuesday). By morning we were completely flooded in, so Courtney couldn't have made it anyway. Paul couldn't get out to go to work. By noon the rain had stopped, allowing the water to recede enough that we could get back into Fairland to pick up Paul's car, so we took Kady to afternoon ball camp and Paul spent the afternoon repairing our poor driveway while Abby, Sam and I put as much valuable stuff as we could fit into the cellar. We've made many a run to the ol' 'fraidy hole, but this past Tuesday was the first day I put baby pictures, the deed to the house and other important documents down there. I went to Paul and said, "The box isn't that big and if you think there is room, can you help me put the box of the kids' baby pictures in the cellar?" He got a mischievous grin on his face and started to make a joke. Then I busted into tears and said, "Paul, I'm scared. Please don't." He grabbed my hand and said, "Baby, go get the box. We'll get those pictures underground." We were completely and fully prepared to be blown away. The anticipation was horrible and I clenched my jaw so hard all day I was pretty sure my teeth were in danger of breaking. After picking Kady up from camp we just sat and waited, flipping the TV back and forth between local channels and TWC.

They closed the Canadian County courthouse early, which is where Tater works. She and her husband work in El Reno and live in Yukon and had planned to ride out the storm in their guest bathroom, but as they saw it making a path for El Reno they decided to head into the City where they rode out the storms in an underground parking garage. El Reno was hit and five were killed.

Back in the old days you ran for cover from the tornado when you saw it lifting off the neighbor's cows and silo, today we are given 24 hours warning, which is by all means a good thing, but still nerve-wracking. We went down into the cellar twice that night. Fortunately the storms didn't hit here like they did around us. Welch got some wicked winds, Grove had some tornados over the lake, but we managed to get by with some minor rain, moderate winds and not even a single hail stone. Praise God!

Today Paul is in Joplin helping some of his family's family empty what's left of their elderly uncle's house. The man is 97 years old and the house is demolished. The things left inside have been subject to theft the past few days. They are working furiously to empty what they can to keep the heartless looters away. I don't understand how people can be so low and I try to focus on the good I've seen coming to Joplin rather than the scammers and looters and heartless evildoers who plan to picket the town for their "wickedness" that caused the tornado. I try to think about the Tide Loads of Hope truck, the Duracell truck, the fact that Sam's Club is allowing anyone to shop there without membership, about the $1 million each that Home Depot, Walmart and Tamko Industries has donated to the cause, the KC Chiefs players who are clearing yards, the little girl in Texas who is sending her own personal belongings to Joplin, the doctors, nurses, firefighters, police officers and volunteers who are working tirelessly.

I pray and praise God in the midst of it all. I am very detached from it really, and everyone says seeing it in person is so much worse than what you see on TV and the internet. I hug my kids a little tighter. I am thankful. I am sad. I am proud. I am hopeful.

The Storm's A Comin' and Facebook Can't Help You Now

It is April and I live in Oklahoma. This can only mean one thing: I live in a perpetual state of heightened meterological awareness. In other words, I am absolutely cuckoo bird crazy and carry my NOAA weather radio around petting it lovingly and calling it "My presshhhhhhhhusssss" and never take my shoes off and when I hear an actual train I am convinced it is indeed a twister coming down the plains until I hear it blow its horn.

Yeah.

I am not frightened of these storms, no. I am obsessive. There is a difference. The main one being: I probably need medication.

For two days now I have been checking the NOAA website many, many times a day, watching The Weather Channel expectantly like I was expecting eaglets to hatch (Why yes, I have been watching those Illinois eagles hatch their baby birds, why do you ask?) and gathering a small pile of irreplaceable items and papers to stash underground in the cellar. Yesterday morning I woke with this feeling in my guts, like I was suddenly seven years old again and it was Christmas morning and I was absolutely certain that Santa had indeed brought me a Malibu Barbie just like I had asked.

The casino was scheduled to begin their weekly employee golf outings that evening at 5, but Paul moped around while getting ready for work because I kept hollering from the bathroom things like, "WOOHOO We're up to a SEVEN on the Tor:Con!" and "BASEBALL SIZED HAIL, PEOPLE! BASEBALLS!" and "Kids! Do you have your electronic devices charged and ready to go? Because we are going UNDERGROUND TONIGHT, BABY!" I don't know why he felt so blue about his much-anticipated golf plans....

After everyone left for school and work I turned the TV to channel 214 because that's where Dr. Greg Forbes lives in magical TV land and he and I? Yeah, we be buddies and all. I can't tell you what any of the other channel numbers are, but TWC I have had memorized for years. Sometimes the TV just goes there on its own out of habit. They had us shaded in red, had the words "tornadoes", "very large hail" and "severe storms" emblazoned on every graphic and every commercial break faded from a graphic telling all us Okies to abandon our double wides and never, ever try to outrun a tornado in a car. I'm sure the car warning was because they knew TBS had played the movie Twister all weekend and Bill Paxton and Helen Hunt made it look so easy.

Then some time around 3pm while trying to update my Facebook status from my phone I discovered the error message "Invalid Destination". Say WHA?? I have used FB Mobile texts for over a year and suddenly the destination is invalid? No, this was some cruel joke the universe was playing on me and haha, guys, that's real funny, now FIX IT, you heartless universe! I tried and tried and tried again to send a message and the same nasty message popped up. Invalid. Destination.

Grr.

Then in a moment of sheer and utter stupid, I deleted my phone number from my Facebook account. In my brain it made sense: delete and re-install. It works on my iPod when an app isn't working right. You just delete, re-install and all is right with the world again. Except in this case remember MY PHONE WAS TREATING THE MOBILE NUMBER AS INVALID. Instantly I was alone and helpless in the vast wasteland known as OH HOLY CRAP I CAN'T UPDATE MY FACEBOOK FROM MY PHONE ANYMORE AND THERE IS NOTHING I CAN DO ABOUT IT! Yeah, it's a mouthful to say, but it's real, people. Very real.

I searched the help pages on Facebook for anything, something, a tidbit about this. Nada. When Abby got home from school I had her try and hers was giving the same message: Invalid destination. Ugh. I warned her to not do anything rash like delete anything and then I placed a call to US Cellular. The friendly fellow named Mark didn't even laugh at my panic-edged voice as I pleaded with him to FIX THIS PROBLEM because there were people who were depending on me to keep them updated on my whereabouts and silly antics my children did and if the twister was tearing through  my yard at any given moment. He actually sounded somewhat geeky and I figured he probably knew that feeling of desperation when suddenly you can't communicate with all 415 of your closest friends or harvest your lilacs and feed your poncho llamas. He came back on the line and informed me that Facebook had made some changes that very day and they were the cause of the problem, not US Cellular, and to just log on to a computer and click on the Mobile tab and the solution would be there. I was skeptical since ya know, I'D ALREADY TRIED THAT, but I thanked him for his help anyway. Then he thanked me for being a US Cellular customer since 2002 and asked if anyone had talked to me about one of their new Belief plans. I told him that I had looked at them some online, but couldn't find one that seemed to fit us. He then started to try and sell me a Belief plan! I politely stopped him in the midst of his script-reading and said, "Mark, I appreciate your desire to help me make the most of my US Cellular plan, but right now there are storms getting ready to hit here and my children are on the trampoline and they haven't packed their "'nader bags" yet I just really don't have time to discuss my mobile plan right now. PLUS I really have to get this Facebook thing lined out before a tornado wipes me off the planet." He matter-of-factly informed me that he was in Tulsa and the storms had already arrived there.

Well, whoop de doo. I didn't realize we were trying to one-up the other there, Mark-o my buddy.

The storm was rather boring if I may say so. Well, at least here it was. To the west and to the south of here it was quite exciting and probably not at all that much fun. It was so anticlimactic here we ended up just turning the TV off altogether when some friends dropped by to visit. The NOAA radio would holler at us occasionally and we'd listen, but it seemed that once again someone had sprayed Bubba's Tornader Repellent all over Ottawa County and we avoided any hook echoes, bow echoes or rotations. Our friends would've stayed longer had the NOAA radio not informed us that the storm was 9  miles south of where they lived. They decided that a nearly-16 year old and a 12 year old probably needed some adults at home with them if a storm was that close, so they high-tailed it outta here.

Shortly after that we sent the kids on to bed, Paul fell asleep in the recliner and I started nodding off watching Jim Cantore and Dr. Greg Forbes misprounce the names of numerous Oklahoma towns. I took the NOAA radio with me, tucking it in gently next to me, giving it a kiss good-night and drifted off to dream land where I didn't even have my usual tornado dreams.

I blame Facebook.

Oh look. It's snowing. Again.

A week ago Sunday Paul, Sam and Kady stayed home from church, mainly because Paul wasn't feeling very well and Kady was kind of coughing. After church, though, we needed a few important things before The Great Snowtastrophe of 2011 hit the next day. We went to Walmart and bought toilet paper, bacon and laundry soap. You know, the really important stuff. When I got home from church Kady had complained of a stomachache. Not nausea, just pain. I told her to take a Maalox because I figured she had gas. By the time we got done in town she was in tears and when we got home she promptly curled upon the couch and couldn't stop kicking her legs and essentially writhing. I loaded her up and took her to the ER. I had felt her belly and determined she likely wasn't constipated (because we moms think poop is the root of all evil when it comes to our kids) and I knew it wasn't her appendix because it was on the wrong side. I was thinking kidney stone. The evil things run in our family like water runs downhill. When we got there the nurse thought the same thing and immediately ordered a UA. In the meantime the Nurse Practitioner came in to examine her. She poked and prodded her belly and decided the pain was from a pulled muscle, possibly from the beating she had taken on the basketball court the day before, but in a nine year old, who knew.

As she was walking out of the room, Kady coughed. It was the same cough she had had for days and it didn't startle me in the least. It did, however, make the NP turn around the ask, "WHAT was that?" She then carefully listened to Kady's lungs, ordered a chest x-ray and said the pulled muscle was from coughing, not basketball. She ordered a breathing treatment to be done as soon as the chest x-ray was complete. After two hours in a freezing isolation room in the ER the UA came back clear, the chest x-ray came back negative for pneumonia and the official diagnosis was: Bronchiolitis due to chronic asthma and exercise-induced asthma. We left with a prescription for six days of steroids and orders for breathing treatments every four hours for 24 hours, Tylenol/Motrin for the muscle pain and the use of the inhaler before practice and games. She was deemed non-contagious and as long as she felt like it was cleared for school. Knowing that The Great Snowtastrophe of 2011 was coming I figured she might as well go that one day of school because who knew when she'd get to go again.

Monday I wasn't supposed to have Conner for the day, so I took the kids to school and headed for town to run some last-minute errands before The Great Snowtastrophe of 2011 hit that night. I went out and got my monthly supply of free government cheese like a good little economically challenged Native American and then got the call I was indeed going to have my Conner for the rest of the day. I picked him up and headed for the Walmart where I did not get bread because they were out, but that's okay, I had gotten some the day before. I didn't really need a whole lot, but did stock up on very important things like chocolate chips and sugar. Had I been thinking I'd have gotten about four dozen eggs because they had them then and they didn't by that afternoon. And they haven't since. We went to the school for Kady's noon breathing treatment, I speculated with the teachers and staff about the impending doom and then came back home to finish laundry before my washing machine drain froze up for who knows how long.

Monday night we sent the kids to bed with nary a flake of snow in sight. Paul and I laid in bed and watched a beautiful lightning show, listened to some thunder that rivaled any we've heard in a Springtime storm and went to sleep around Midnight. I got up at 1:30 to check on the kids and saw that the world had turned white - but it wasn't snow at that point. It was sleet. I heard it pinging the windows, shivered and crawled back in bed. Upon awakening again at 4 our world was encased in a coccoon of white. When I got Paul up at 5:30 I begged and begged for him to stay home because given the looks of things and the forecast for 20 inches before day's end I had no intention of riding out the storm alone with three kids, one of whom was sick. He assured me he'd be fine, he'd be home and his 4WD would get him back here. He kissed me and left.

They had not one single guest in the casino all day. By 1pm they officially closed it. Since he was running the vault by himself he had to balance out, inventory and do whatever else those magical vault folks do. By the time he left he was pushing a wall of snow with his big ol' gigantic truck. He heard highway 60 had been closed by the sheriff, but he wasn't letting that stop him. My pleas and whines in the phone and reports of his youngest child running a 102* temp filled him with determination to get home. He made is halfway up 60, called his cousin who lived about 1/4 mile off the highway and said, "If I can make it to your house, can I stay the night?" His cousin said, "If you can get here, you can stay." He made it. They watched the weather reports and decided, given the reports of below zero temps for the night and that sick child of his, he needed to try to get home. He bundled up in his coveralls and took off up the dirt road. He made it 1/4 mile before he sunk and was stuck. His cousin pulled him back to his house with the tractor and there he stayed. He was three miles from us, but he might as well have been in California. I called my mother bawling from the bathroom so as not to scare the daylights outta my kids that I was terrified to be snowed in without him. She told me to stop crying, it wasn't changing anything, to pray and everything would be fine.

Kady burned up with fever all night. Her breathing was horribly labored. I didn't sleep much. Usually when Paul's not here I don't sleep well because I hear noises and end up convinced we're being stalked and are about to be broken into. That night I just listened to Kady wheeze and cough and laid my hands on her while I prayed that we be safe, that Paul would be safe, that I wouldn't have to call 911 for an ambulance that couldn't get here.

On Tuesday all three kids were sick, two with fevers, one with a sore throat. Around 2 that afternoon we saw a pickup go past our house. I was on that phone so quick to Paul telling him that if that truck could make it so could he. Two hours later he came sliding into the driveway with the finesse of a Duke boy from Hazzard County. He ended up stuck, had to dig his way out of his truck and walked the 1/10 mile driveway in 20" of snow. It was like a dadgum episode of The Waltons when he walked through that door. John Boy was home!

He spent Thursday home with us. Mainly because his truck was still stuck, but also because I wasn't letting him out of my sight again. Also by Thursday Kady had run a fever nearly nonstop for four days. Friday she didn't run one.

Saturday, after having not done a single stitch of laundry since Monday, we loaded up hampers and baskets of clothes and headed to my mom's. My washing machine drain freezes up at the mere mention of the word "winter", so laundering comes to a screeching halt when the temps dip too low. The kids played on the computers, Paul, who himself was now sick with bronchitis, slept most of the afternoon in a recliner in front of the TV and I visited with my momma. Paul and I made a quick run to Walmart for toilet paper, sugar, shampoo, cold medicine and milk, then headed back home. By the time we got to Mom's Kady was running a fever again.

Sunday I took her to urgent care where the nurse took her temp and it was a toasty 103*. Her bronchiolitis had turned into bacterial bronchitis. A test for strep came back negative. Then a doctor who looked old enough to have treated Moses for gout gave her the most thorough once-over she's had in years. He was great with her. And me. He sent us on our way with antibiotics and prescription cough syrup. She hasn't run a fever all day today. Praise God!!!!

And now it's Tuesday night. We are once again under a Winter Storm Warning and awaiting anywhere from six to eight to ten inches of snow. No one can seem to agree on an amount. Paul is still sick and refuses to see a doctor. Kady is better. I have PMS and my two oldest kids are begging to go back to school, however we received a call from the principal's office today letting us know that just in case we do have school tomorrow the bus will not come down our road. Considering their daddy leaves the house at 6:15am for work in the only vehicle with 4WD and my van will not navigate on the sheet of ice that disguises our road, I checked to make sure their absences will be excused. They will. Whew.

I never thought I'd say this, but I'm almost looking forward to summer. And I hate summer.

Wowie Wow Wow

*phhhooooooooo*

(That was me blowing the cobwebs off the ol' blog here.)

I've been kind of scarce lately.

"No, really, Diva? We hadn't noticed. Sitting here, waiting patiently for you to come along and entertain us. In fact, we may  have gone looking for greener pastures. Whaddaya think of that, oh absent one?"

Well, I think it's deplorable. Not you. You're not deplorable. Why would I call you deplorable? You're the ones who've been sitting here in this cobwebby mess, probably playing spider solitaire til you're nearly cross-eyed, perhaps a random game of rock/paper/scissors with another pitiful person waiting around....

And I apologize. Sincerely.

But can I give you a run-down of the last couple weeks? Then maybe you'll be more willing to maybe offer me your bosom on which I can lay my weary head and receive the comfort I so desperately need.

Woah. Wait. I just asked you to offer me your bosom. Scratch that. This ain't that kinda blog. No bosoms. Really.

Okay, so here goes. This is my desperate attempt at gaining your sympathy (but not your bosom -- I repeat NOT YOUR BOSOM). In the past three weeks:

* Here at the ranch we hosted 20-some people for the 4th of July, which was actually on the 3rd. I was told by one sister that I am "no fun" as the host and she wasn't going to let me anymore if I was going to be that crabby.

* We hosted a second, impromptu day of shenanigans and holiday overeating on the 4th when my mom and dad, Tater, her handsome beau and the Tots spent the day with us. There was food and fireworks, a rousing game of Spoons in which my tablecloth was ripped, Abby's (now ex-) boyfriend bled and now my spoons are ten kinds of wonky.

* I got to spend a whole week with my niece and nephew, the Tots. That was heavenly.

* My son was introduced to golf and now I have TWO rednecks who look forward to Tuesdays at the Country Club like a couple of little boys hoping for a Red Ryder BB gun from Santa. While Paul is slightly more sedate, Sam bounces around like a chihuahua from the time he gets up on Tuesdays until his daddy gets home from work. Also, there has been a documented event where both of them got up before 7am on a Saturday to go play.

* We have had a big ol' camping party in the living room for a week now. For those of you non-local folks, we here in Oklahoma are in the midst of yet another Oklahoma summer, also known as HELL. Our 1,922 square foot house is cooled by one very brave window unit and does a spectacular job - until the humidity gets as high as it's gotten lately. Last Sunday it got up to 87* in our house with the thermostat set on 67*. So it was either camp out in the living room or go stay with my parents until December. Now there is an air mattress in the middle of the floor, pillows, stuffed animals and sheets everywhere, the blinds stay pulled 24/7 and the TV goes off in the middle of the day because that gigantic thing could probably power a small third-world country with the heat it puts off. Can I just say this? Momma has a slight case of MY CHILDREN ARE DRIVING ME CRAZY.

* I made my very first 911 call.

* I argued with the police dispatcher during said 911 call because when I had made a non-emergency call prior to the 911 call she wrote the address down wrong and sent the police officers a block east. Then when I called and actually had an emergency she argued that I was wrong.

* I was visited by a process server for the very first time in my life.

* During that pleasant process-serving party I received my very first subpeona to appear before a judge. And can I just take a moment to appease my inner 12-year-old?  SUBPEONA SUBPEONA SUBPEONA SUBPEONA SUBPEONA *giggle* It's just fun to say because it sounds kinda dirty but it's not. SUBPEONA.

* I now have a much more sensitive BS detector.

* I have learned to rely on my God, my faith, my family and my church family in the past two weeks. God put that group of cowboys and cowgirls in my life for a reason and I am so thankful, blessed and awed.

* My youngest daughter called me "strong". I have really never thought of myself as strong, but if I can come across that way to an 8 year old who is looking to me in the midst of crisis and upside-down-edness I must be doing something right.

* And finally I have learned that sometimes while you are nervous and anxious and exhausted a late-night phone call from a friend who tells you a story about a flag-stealing midget in a pickup truck will make you laugh until your stomach hurts - and is probably the best medicine out there.



So see? I really do have valid reasons for being slighty....uh....removed from the blog the past few weeks.

Forgive me? Promise to come back if I use the word SUBPEONA more?











SUBPEONA!

Sneezing vs. a Tornado

As you all know, we are a bit....  skittish when it comes to storms. We have a very healthy respect for them and tornados are simply a force not to be reckoned with. That being said, what's the first thing Paul and I do when the weather starts looking bad? We, and every other redneck, go stand in the yard and watch the clouds roll in and hope we see the twister.

Yesterday when Paul got home he said he and a bunch of friends from work were going to go play golf. It was totally fine by me since I had spent the whole day in my pajamas watching DVR'd episodes of "The OCD Project" on VH1 with a few Tosh.0's sprinkled in to make me laugh after having bawled through watching those folks with OCD battle their disorder. I figured if I let him go play golf without batting an eye he would be far less likely to notice the Barbies scattered around the living room, my ladybug pajama pants still on my body and the dishes in the sink.

I was totally right. He came in, changed clothes and left again with nary a harsh word. Score!

Before he left, with our son in tow, I told him there was some stormy weather rolling in and to keep an eye on the skies. He nodded and off they went. He called me about 20 minutes later to tell me that the Miami course was closed and they were headed to Baxter Springs, KS. I wasn't happy about that because the storms were coming in from the north, so again I reminded him to keep an eye on things and keep his cell phone within reach. He agreed and off they went again.

It's at this point in the story I should probably throw in this tidbit of information: A few weeks ago I sent Sam down to get our lawnchairs from the cellar so we could use them at a birthday party. When we unfurled them at the party I thought they smelled damp, like mold. Sam said, "Yeah, it was kind of wet down there..." and that was it. I mentioned it to Paul later that evening and he said that was strange, it had never gotten wet down there before. The next day he called me out into the yard. When I got out there he was standing at the cellar with the door open, a black-ish thing lying in the grass next to him. As I got closer I realized what it was: the mattress thing we had put down there the last time we'd gone under. It was late and the kids were tired so we laid it out in the floor for them to lie on. Paul said the entire floor of the cellar was wet, the mattress had soaked up a ton of water and was covered in mold. Apparently, someone who refuses to confess by the way, put the garden hose to the vent and .... irrigated the cellar. We have no idea who or even why, but I'm not above resorting to bamboo shoots under the fingernails to find out the culprit's identity and motive. Anyway, we left the cellar open for a few days and I kept meaning to bleach it out...."meaning to" being the operative words here.

Now on with the story....

I called Paul when we went under a severe thunderstorm warning and told him the county he was in was under one as well. He said they were on the 7th hole, the owner had already told them that at the first sign of lightning to get off the course as fast as they could and he reassured me they were paying attention to the weather. Sam called me about half hour later and said they were heading home and that daddy wanted me to know "they were right ahead of the storm."

As they pulled in it began to rain and he said he literally drove ahead of the storm. I guess he wanted me to acknowledge his storm-dodging prowess or something. I went out into the yard and immediately came back in and said, "You need to come out here with me. And kids? Find your shoes and pack a bag. We may be going underground." Paul and I went back outside and stood in various parts of the yard to see the storm from different viewpoints. As we were about 50 feet out into the field we heard a sound which caused us to look at each other, stare wide-eyed and then begin running - we heard the tornado sirens from Miami.

We live about 7 miles from the very south edge of town and only one other time have we been able to hear the tornado sirens when they've gone off. Usually the storms come in from the other way and we just don't hear them, but this time we heard them loud and clear. He ran to let the dog off the chain so he could go to the barn, I ran to the house to tell the kids to GO NOW. I grabbed my purse, cell phone and iPod (the essentials you know), decided I didn't have time for the laptop and we were out the door. I think we made it from sirens to cellar in under four minutes.

As we all stood there panting, cleaning the raindrops off our glasses and wringing out our hair, I realized I had forgotten the NOAA radio. I always bring it with us so we have some idea of what's going on in case we lose cell signal, which we sometimes do down there, but not always. I called Cousin Courtney who wasn't even in Miami, but I had forgotten that fact, and immediately felt awful for scaring the snot out of her since she's away on business and her son and husband were here, obviously under the life-threatening peril of an impending tornado. I asked the question on Facebook and Twitter, "Are the sirens going off in Miami?" and my niece and one other person responded that they had been, but they weren't any more. Then it was 9:00 and my mobile notifications go off then, so I was out of the loop from then on.

It was so hot and muggy down there that after we didn't hear from anyone that the sirens were back on, we decided to come out and go back to the house. Where there was air conditioning.

Turns out, Miami never went under a tornado warning. I'm not sure if a clumsy intern hit the switch accidentally or they were trying to be proactive or what, but it was unsettling to not know why they were going off and whether we needed to stay underground or what. Paul said he wondered if someone had called the Psychic Friends Network and were sounding the alarm because they had gotten a tip. Whatever. When it comes to the weather I would always, always rather be safe than sorry. I will take the stinky, damp, hot cellar any day over being whisked away to Oz. I mean, I think Munchkins are cute and all, but have no desire to cavort in a field of poppies with a scarecrow who would inevitably make me sneeze and a lion who would likely do the same.

Speaking of sneezing, while we saw no mold in the cellar last night, about 30 minutes after we got back into the house Abby broke out in hives. It took 50 mg of Benadryl to give her any relief. Sam and I woke up this morning with swollen eyes, a runny nose and both sneezing our heads off. Abby's still hive-a-licious and Kady had to use her inhaler. Methinks the mold was of the invisible variety.

So now....I'm taking volunteer applications from whoever wants to come help me bleach out the cellar so we don't all die from anaphylactic shock the next time we're dodging a tornado. I can't pay ya, but I'll give you some Amish bread and sweet tea. You know how to get hold of me.

The Air was Thick with Excitement

First off, I guess I should let the masses know that indeed we did survive the Icepocalypse. Or should I say The Icepocalypse That Never Was at Least for Here and That's the Place I was Most Concerned About No Offense to Anyone Else that Did Experience Its Icy Doom.

We got a pretty good amount of snow, but very little ice. It was very anticlimactic after all the preparation and worrying and continual checking of the NOAA website and the buying bread and toilet paper and such. Our power never flickered and we stayed nice and toasty the whole time. My sister, however, was iced in for several days down south of here. Festivus was postponed yet again due to several facts. 1) We here at the Diva Ranch are the Official Host Family of Festivus and our road was impassable to anyone without 4WD. There was talk of an alternate location, but considering 2) Sis was iced in down by the City and another cousin and his family were iced in in Yukon AND his wife had the flu, it was again just put on hold. I have such a dadgum good tacky gift this year I refuse to let it go by the wayside. It may be a Festivus Cookout by the time we have it, but I will keep pushing to have it rescheduled.

---

Basketball was canceled last weekend due to the snow. We could've made it, but man, we didn't want to, so we weren't too upset when they called the games.

Sam is apparently playing guard now which I think is good, but don't quote me on that. The only reason I know that is because when Coach was hollering at the boys for goofing off and not doing a play right he said something about the guards and grabbed Sam as an example. So yay. Go guards! Or something. He took a pretty good verbal tirade from Coach week before last and there were tears of frustration and declarations of "I QUIT!" but I had to tough love my boy and explain, "Coach has a job of making sure you boys play a good game. You have a job on the court, playing that good game. You played some pretty rotten ball tonight, son. He did his job. You didn't." Ouch. That was painful to say and he didn't enjoy hearing it. He's still undecided on playing middle school ball next year. We keep assuring him it will be better, less chaotic and he really will enjoy it more. He has potential and is good (when he pays attention), but if he doesn't want to there's no point in playing.

Kady is playing something out there, but we're not sure what. If there are positions, the girls have no idea what they are. Right now, in 2nd and 3rd grade they are out there for victory and blood and utter annihilation of their opponents. We are called very hard by the refs because we somehow got a reputation as the most aggressive team in the league, but after playing a Wyandotte team that had a player who drew blood on three of our girls and left our babies sobbing and crying they weren't EVER going to go back out on that court again and a Welch team that has some slappers and pinchers, we don't know how that rumor got started. I'd like to think it's not a personal issue amongst certain adults in the league, but I'm afraid that's what it is. It's elementary ball, folks. It's not the WNBA. These girls wear hair bows and paint their nails in the team colors and have striped knee socks and it's supposed to be fun while they learn the fundamentals. It can get competitive when they're older. Geesh.

And I eat nachos for at least one meal, sometimes two, every Saturday. Basketball season rawks.

---

During the Not Ice Storm, while my internet was sketchy at best, I got an email from the Comedy Examiner (that's their fancy word for "the reporter who looks for funny stuff") with the Oklahoma City Examiner asking if I'd be interesting in being featured in her column this week. Uh....YEAH.

The interview is here. Read it please. Oh, and thank you.

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Tonight is the Tulsa Blogger Meet-Up. I am ever so excited. Ever. Paul got his undies in a bunch over me going by myself so I told him he could go, too. I think he thought I'd back out, but I was like, "Come on, bubba! Let's go hang with some bloggahs!" As it's gotten closer to today he has been more cranky about it. Then last night on the weather he was like, "Oh darn. It's supposed to snow. Can't go. Too bad. Sorry, honey." NOT. I have checked the NOAA website all day and yes, there's rain and yes, there will probably some snow, but nothing significant and nothing treacherous. Then awhile ago my momma offered to go with me to rescue Paul and still allow me to go. I laughed and then was just touched because she doesn't "get" the whole blogging thing and yet was still willing to spend a night with a whole room of us. She's a good momma. I told her thanks, but I didn't want her to feel like Baby in Dirty Dancing and be like, in a corner all night. Then I was reading comments on Tasha's post about tonight and TWO OTHER BLOGGERS are bringing their mothers! Kelly had offered to ply my husband with beverages so I could go, so Kelly, you can keep your money now - Momma's a preacher's wife. LOL

Icepocalypse! And links!

I am feeling particularly uninspired today because I'm on bigtime pins and needles waiting for this HORRIBLE! TREACHEROUS! DEATH, DESPAIR AND HISTORICALLY SIGNIFICANT ICE! storm that's heading this way. Yahfreakinhoo.

We could either get 1/2" to 1" of ice and 4-6" of snow -- or we could get bupkis. I've never seen a storm so full of ninja-like stealth and mystery. Gary England, Mike Collier, Gary Bandy, Travis Meyer, Doug Heady and the NOAA are stumped as to what, when and where this storm will be at any given time. Sometimes I think God just does stuff like this to make us remember that technology isn't all that.

So instead of a "real" post today I'll do a few shout-outs to some blogger folks, events and sites I like. It's a total cop-out in the creativity department, but just as labor-intensive if not more. (All! That! Linking!) My hope, however, is that maybe you'll find some new reading material and/or time-wasters. I'm all about time-wasters.

First up, is Kellyology. For one thing, she's having a birthday TODAY and she's officially a Cougar. Rawr.

Kelly is also sporting a new blog design courtesy of With a Southern Flair who just happens to be the gal who overhauled my own blog look. If you're in the market for a kickin' new design, custom embroidery (I hear she does Snuggies!) or heck, knowing her she's probably even good at tile grout, give her a holler.

I have recently become enamored with a site called My Life is Average, or MLIA as all the cool kids call it. If you have ever felt your life was just a little too average, check out this site. Most of the posts are from teens or college students and some are outrageously far-fetched, but I still can't stop reading them! I have spent many an evening reading the posts out loud to my family. (Well, only on the nights I have the remote hidden under my Snuggie. On those nights I call the shots and they have no choice but to listen.)

Woot.com is one of those sites I am utterly intrigued by. I have yet to order anything from them because the deals post at Midnight and uhm...yeah, bedtime for me is before that. Because I'm old. The really good stuff is snatched up nearly as soon as it posts, but if you're a night owl and love to shop online, woot yourself on over and grab up a bargain or two. The t-shirt designs are worth going over to see. I love me some geeky t-shirts.

Miss Wisabus -- That's all I have to say. Just go.

I can't post all these links without giving some love to People of Walmart and Cake Wrecks because well, we all like to see everyone else's messes, too, right?

Kiddies - okay, Oklahoma blogging kiddies -  you have less than a week left to get in your nominations for the 2009 Oklahoma Blog Awards, an event I personally always look forward to so that I can either get my ego boosted or crushed. Either way, we're all winners, right? RIGHT? There are some new categories this year and Jen seems to be handling the running of the whole shebang quite well. Major props to her for taking the reigns in Mike's absence! 

ATTENTION: I am going to this. Did you see that? I AM GOING TO THIS! I AM! I AM!




Well, providing we 1) survive the Icepocalypse and 2) can make it there safely without sliding into a ditch, getting stuck and having to use my iPod for warmth or to beat my husband over the head until he is unconscious. But yeah, we'll be there. "We" as in myself and my husband. Kellyology has already offered to buy him beverages if he'll just let me go, so the dude is all kinds of on board. If anyone else would like to extend such an offer you will only insure the excitement of meeting me so keeps those offers coming, kiddies!

And finally, in honor of the impending DOOM! of the forthcoming Icepocalypse, go read Tasha's list of what to have on hand during an Oklahoma ice storm and JenX67's list of lessons from the worst ice storm ever. Stay safe, stay warm and remember, fellow Okies, tornado season is just around the corner!

Thirty Seven

Thursday was my birthday and well, I get pretty excited about having a day that's pretty  much all about me. I don't like the whole getting older thing that goes along with it, but I do like me some attention and presents.

I was flying pretty high what with the whole being on the front page of the newspaper on Tuesday (for winning 1st place at the Park of Lights) (WOOT!, btw)  and then having my SECOND column for WelchOK.com published and then knowing my baby sister was going to be in town this weekend and I would actually get to SEE her (something I haven't done since November) and of course,anticipated birthday presents and all that -- when I had the rug of happiness jerked out from under me on Wednesday evening. I am fine, but let me just say that the phrase "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me" is a LIE because words hurt plenty. I'm not going into it because I'm not ready, but I might be someday. And I might not. But I can tell you this: I have a wonderful mother.

After my crying subsided and Mom made me feel better (as mommas are wont to do) she said, "That settles it. Tomorrow I'm picking you up in the morning and we're spending the whole day together." Of course, because her awesomeness is overwhelming at times I busted into tears again. She had already planned on taking me to lunch on my birthday, but now the prospect of a whole day out of the house with my mom? SUH-WEET. She needed to visit her flea market booth and do some rearranging and invited Conner and I to tag along. It sounded spectacular.

Thursday was a rainy day, but then again most of my birthdays have been. Well, except for the ones where we were snowed in. Thanks to global warming now I just have sloshy birthdays. She walked in the front door with a bottle of laundry detergent and a 12-roll pack of toilet paper and really, had those been my only presents I'd have been stoked beyond belief, but no, she had MORE. A bottle of perfume and two bottles of lotion ALONG WITH Young Doctor Frankenstein, a movie I still laugh at until I wheeze and it never ceases to be funny. The rain could in no way damper what had started off as a spectacular morning.

We loaded her flea market junk items into my van, plunked Conner into his carseat and off we headed to the big town of Miami. First stop? Her office to sign a paper. I know, try to contain the excitement, Diva, we're not sure we can handle it. Second stop? The water board to pay my water bill. Then DHS to turn in some paperwork. I KNOW! We were on FIRE! It was then 10:30 and we didn't have time to go the flea market and back before lunch, but it was a smidge to early to actually go eat lunch. Driving down Main we pondered all the possibilities of a time-killer in Miami, America, and decided there are none unless you want to go to Walmart. Neither of us wanted to do that, so we settled on Dollar Tree.

I love me some Dollar Tree. We let Conner play with the balloons they fill with helium and let the strings dangle into your face right there on Aisle One. The lady working there wasn't happy, but hey, they're the ones that let those things dangle like that. We both busted into spontaneous song on Aisle Three with a loud, scary version on Neil Diamond's "Heart Light" and I still don't remember why, but needless to say it was HILARIOUS. We scored three GIGANTO ink pens for the kids to take to Disney World this December (the characters need the big pens to sign autographs because well....they're big) and Mom bought me FIVE packages of fruit-flavored Mentos. I love me some Mentos, too. Nom nom.

After wasting 45 minutes in Dollar Tree, the Taj Mahal of Cheapness, we traveled to Stonehill Grill for lunch and then it was off to the flea market. Conner took about a 15 minute nap on the way and I had hoped he'd continue snoozing for awhile, but one yip from the little dog roaming the aisles and he awoke with a "oof", ready to play. We helped Mom with her booths - and by helped I mean we basically stood in the way and provided comic relief. I mean, how cute and hilarious is it to see a 19 month old adorable little boy using a 14" embroidery hoop as a steering wheel to drive up and down the aisles? Little old ladies and men were coming back there just to see him.

We came back to the house about an hour before the bus was supposed to get here and dove into the scrumptious cake Mom made me - a Better Than Almost Anything cake. Oh good golly, cake that wonderful should probably illegal everywhere except Las Vegas. After cake Mom was introduced to the wonderfulness that is a Snuggie. She loved it so much she promptly fell asleep in my big chair while Conner watched Dora and I put some pictures on a memory stick for her new digital picture frame. The kids got home from school and got some Grammy loves before she had to rush off to Bunko, then I threw some PB&J at the kids before ball practice ..... and that was my 37th birthday.

I saw Sis last night at the boys' second basketball game (the first one coincided with Kady's second game of the day so Paul and I divided and conquered) and at the game she presented me with Season 1 of Glee on DVD and an AFLAC duck that quacks AFLAAAAAAAC and makes me laugh like a giddy four year old. The DVD itself was enough to put her in Best Sister Category for like, ever, but the duck threw her over and then some.

Now to round out what was about a 98% AWESOME week Kady has acquired a phenomenal stomach virus which landed she and I on the couch last night, her yarking every 45 minutes and me holding her hair back, breathing through my mouth and trying not to join in. (I hereby apologize to all the members of the 2nd and 3rd grade A team for any spontaneous yarking your own daughters may now do.) This week's plans include preparing for Icepocalypse which is supposed to hit on Thursday. BE YE WARNED. I'm going to Walmart on Tuesday to stock up on toilet paper and sugar and tortilla chips and soup, so if you wanna meet up give me a holla. If you plan on being hysterical and jerking the Quilted Northern from my hands you can stay at home or risk being punched in the back of the head a sharp verbal reprimand from yours truly. Either way it should be fun!

Let He Who Casts the First Hailstone

Night before last we had some pretty whoppin' storms roll through our neck of the woods. By whoppin' I mean they surpassed toad strangler and at times it even rained harder than a cow peein' on a flat rock.

Now with those redneck colloquialisms out of the way...

I had gotten Twitter updates all day from various weather gurus, The Weather Channel included, and knew we were probably going to get hit with something before it was all said and done. I am a weather nut and really, I find it one of my most endearing qualities, but most just find me geeky and annoying with my tweets, Facebook updates and because my mother subscribes to none of that techno mumbo jumbo she gets personal phone calls regarding the weather. See? Endearing isn't it?

Wednesday night was First Day of School Eve and even though I had been trying to implement school bedtimes for TWO WEEKS and had yet to really succeed, we managed to get everyone in bed at the appointed times. I made sure the NOAA radio was plugged in and ready to go on the far edge of the window seat, made sure my phone was charged and the volume up nice and loud so I'd hear if The Weather Channel sent a severe weather alert during the night. Those previous two actions would haunt me as the night went on.

After going through the house and saying good-bye to my new windows, because I was certain they were going to be busted out by the bowling ball sized hail on its way, Paul and I managed to get to bed around 10 or so because I had to get up at 5 and he had to get up at 5:30 the next morning. Of course, because he is male and his timing is unfailingly impeccable and he is eternally amorous he wanted to get his groove thing on. No sooner had I finally relented to his annoying romantic overtures than the NOAA radio went off. At full volume. My heart was racing at that point, but it had nothing to do with my husband or his mojo - I was just scared. There I am trying to listen to the robotic voice detail our imminent doom across the air waves, Paul still bound and determined to be romantic, when my cell phone began loudly declaring A SEVERE! WEATHER! ALERT! Then? My favorite friend Lori sent a text as well to make sure we were okay. Ever heard of sensory overload? Ever seen those cartoons where something scares the cat and then you see the poor kitty hanging by its claws from the ceiling? That was me around 10:45 Wednesday night.

When we got our new windows we, of course, had to take down all the blinds and the ones in our bedroom kind of got broken when we washed them and hung them on the line and uhm....kind of forgot about them and a storm came through one night, thus breaking them beyond repair. So when there is lightning we basically get a light show from our bed until it passes. That particular night the light show went on until about 4:30am. I'd like to say I enjoyed it, but the fact at one point during the night when I got up out of bed to turn off the screeching weather radio I literally stomped my foot and said, "STORMS ARE STUPID AND I JUST WANT SOME SLEEP!" probably means I didn't enjoy it very much.

Over the course of that night the NOAA radio went off about 15 times and my cell phone about 439. Remember when I said the radio was on the far edge of the window seat? That meant I had to get up to turn it off. Remember when I said I had the volume up good and loud on my phone? That meant every time it went off I hit my target rate. I was so punchy and goofy that it never occured to me to turn the volume down or move the radio to within arm's reach. I'm brilliant like that.

Around 3 things quieted down and I relaxed enough that I started to drift off. Then it sounded like someone was throwing rocks at our house. I didn't even move from my position at first, I just said, "Hail." Paul mumbled, "Why are you cussin'?" I said, "HAIL, not HELL. It's hailing!" We both jumped up, he grabbed a pair of shorts, stepped into his shoes as I stood there screeching, "What are you doing? Seriously! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? If you go out there you will be killed and I have NO DESIRE to raise those kids by myself! WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO???"

He dumped the contents of the basket on his end table, snatched up his keys and said, "I'm taking my truck to the barn! Unlock the back door so I can come back in that way!" As he flew out the front door I said, "Fine. But when you are dead I am going to be SO mad at you!" I stood at the front picture window and watched him dodge little marbles of ice as he ran to his truck. It then hit me that we both essentially freaked out over incredibly small hail, but see, we have a metal roof and boy howdy it sure sounded like someone was lobbing icy grapefruits at our house when we were half asleep.

I ran to the bedroom, unlocked the back door and waited for him to run back up from the barn. I waited. And I waited. It quit hailing and then began the heaviest downpour I think I've ever seen in my life. Then I saw headlights from the barn, speeding through the field, coming back to the house.

I started laughing at that point because I assumed he'd decided that since the hail was over and it was raining so hard he'd just drive back up to the house and call it good. When he came through the front door, dripping, soaked to the bone, I was still laughing. He took the towel I handed him and said, "I know what you're thinking. But the tractor battery was dead. Couldn't get my truck in the barn. Hush."

Shortly after we got back in bed, neither of us the least bit sleepy, Sam joined us because the child got his mad light sleeping skillz from his mother. The three of us enjoyed the light show until about 4:30 when Sam decided we were all out of mortal danger and could go back to bed.

Looking back, we should've just put the kids to bed in the cellar that night, tucked ourselves in with them and set an alarm for 5am. Because sleeping in lawn chair in a 6x8 concrete underground room would've been WAY more restful.

Just Another Oklahoma Springtime

Wednesday Paul and I had watched TWC all day long and we knew we were possibly in for some severe weather that night. During the day we double-checked the supplies in the 'fraidy hole - important things like bottled water, blankets, towels and a chair for me because the week before when the kids and I ended up underground before the morning bus even ran I had to stand and I wasn't really happy about that.

Before I go any further just let me say that my husband, while he most of the time has the best of intentions, sometimes forgets that his wife is fat. He proudly came in the house while I was digging for flashlight batteries and held at arm's length what looked like two bundles of pipe and canvas. "Look! Chairs!" he said. I looked at him and said, "I don't think so, dude." He had found his hunting stool doohickeys in the barn and thought they would be GREAT for the cellar since they take up very little space, but what he forgot was that my rear-end does NOT take up very little space - in fact, it takes up a very LOT of space. Shortly after that I took my very large, space-taking-up lawnchair down into the cellar so my large, space-taking-up hiney would be comfy.

Okay, so on with the events of the night.... We were all happily watching LOST, keeping an eye on the radar and TWCi Twitter updates, but otherwise enjoying the confusion that is LOST. We had had the kids pack their 'fraidy hole bags early on because there is nothing worse than the twister bearing down on you and your youngest is bawling because she can't find her woobie and her Nintendo DS. Trust me on this. The NOAA radio politely informed us we were under a tornado watch. Then a thunderstorm warning. We could see on the radar in the corner of the TV screen that the tornado warnings were moving our way, but the storms were moving so slow we really didn't react too much. Then the NOAA radio started going off for the counties close to us. It was then we had the kids put on their shoes and go to the restroom. I really thought we'd finish LOST, the storms would fizzle and Tater and the tots would go home and life would go on - because that's the way it always goes.

Not that night. 15 minutes from the butt-puckering ending of LOST my phone then Tater's phone rang with our weather alert ringtones. We simultaneously opened our phones and simultaneously said "Oh, crap." Then the NOAA radio went off. We hollered at the kids to grab their bags and realized Paul was nowhere to be found. Because he is a redneck and he was out in the yard. Which, truthfully, is where Tater and I would've been had LOST not been on. I hollered for Paul and the fun began. I have to give all five kids serious props because no one panicked, no one freaked, no one questioned, they just grabbed their bags and followed Paul out the front door. It wasn't raining then and really, the wind wasn't even blowing all that much. We could see lightning and hear thunder, but even that wasn't all that close. It was weird running to the cellar on such a nice night!

See how happy everyone was?













(See how shiny my sister was?)

(She wasn't happy about this picture, by the way, but hey, it's my blog. If she would update her blog she'd have opportunity to put unflattering pictures of me there... HINT HINT.)














Sam was in the corner, TotTwo was hiding behind my chair and TotOne was apparently on the verge of being Vulcan. Just a few more centimeters and her fingers would've formed the appropriate "Live Long and Prosper" greeting.





Abby didn't have her hair properly straightened, nor did she have any makeup on and therefore refused any pictures be taken of her.

Ptthhht. Divas.






After we got the kids settled in I started having hot flashes. Not because of menopause, no, because of the oppressive humidity and the fact we had eight bodies crammed into a 6x8 concrete box in the ground. Since it had yet to begin raining we decided to leave the door open and keep an eye on things because again, we're rednecks. The NOAA radio went off again, updating the tornado warning, the phones started chirping....and we heard roaring. It was the eeriest thing I've ever heard in my life. There was relatively little wind at our place but either we heard a tornado roaring in the distance or it was just some kick-butt straight-line winds. Eeriest. Thing. Ever.

We kept the door open until the rain started and whew it got hot in a hurry once we were closed in. Oh, but don't worry that I overheated. Since I was the pampered one with the big fancy chair, I got to sit right under the dripping door.














It really didn't take us all that long to get good and bored.















Paul was texting me. Me. As in his wife who was sitting next to him under the dripping door.















Tater's tots have WAY more stamina than my kids. Kady and Sam eventually crashed. TotTwo just entertained us with his flatulence.




Really, there are few things cuter than a sleeping Kadybug.











And here's my big, strong, protective husband risking life and limb to check the conditions outside. I wouldn't have cared if it had sucked us all right out at that point I was so hot. I'm telling you, menopause is going to suck. Hard.














Rumor has it we're under the gun for some strong to severe storms again tonight, but I'm not too worried. Wednesday, TWC's Dr. Greg Forbes gave us a 6 out of 10 on his Tor:Con tornado probability scale, but today we only got a 2.

However, I didn't take my lawnchair out of the cellar. Ya know....just in case.

Preparing to purr

I have worn my hair straight all winter because the lower atmospheric humidity paired with the fact we heat with wood means our house is drier than a popcorn fart AND also means I can have good, frizz-free hair from about November through February. I have gotten compliments all winter, too, because I was rocking my curling brush and this product stuff my BFF Tiff sent for Ab but I kind of stole. I mostly curled it into big loose curls and pomaded it into submission and just kicked all kinds of good hair butt.

But alas, the time of dry air has come to an end once more and now it is time to bring forth the curls because Oklahoma's humidity runs on average around 4000% from now until October and if you have naturally curly hair you know that curls around humidity is like a bunch of cougars (and not the wild animal) at a Tom Jones concert. There is lots of panty-throwing. And swooning. And other things I can't mention in polite company.

For the most part my hair is cooperating - except for my bangs. I'm in the process of growing them out and they're long enough to curl properly but see, my bangs, they are impressionable and all of this straightness the past few months has made them desire to be straight for, like, ever. They are like the unruly cousins the rest of my hair doesn't want to invite to Thanksgiving dinner because my hair just knows my bangs will do something embarrassing. Like get drunk on the cooking sherry and talk loudly about Uncle Harvey's "special friend" or something like that.

I've been pinning them back every day like all the teenagers are doing, but in case you don't know - I'm 36. I am staring down the barrel of 40 and folks, it ain't pretty. Ab says my hair is cute and she's 12 and she would know - BUT I say it again, I am 36. I'm bordering on cougar myself. The time for cute is over. Plus, I don't leave the house much so pinning them back is okay because Nonner loves me as long as I keep him stocked with apple juice and Cheerios. Cougar or cute, I'm good with him.

The other night in a desperate attempt to show my bangs who's boss, I trimmed them, which is basically like kneecapping them and threatening them with a cement overcoat, if you knowhaddamean. It helped some and this morning I had one of the best hair days I've had since humidity came back to town and started drunk calling at 3am again. My curls were curls; they were well-arranged, submissive, not frizzy and well, if I'm going to be a cougar soon I might as well say it - RAWR. I was hawt. Paul even said so. (Of course, I think he was just trying to make the most of the fact we were in the house sans kids because he's a man that way)

I had to take Sam to Tulsa today for his orthodontic x-rays and impressions, so I finished getting ready, sprayed my hair with my "flexible hold" hairspray (because you don't want the curls to form into a solid shell or helmet) and got ready to wow the city of Tulsa. Then I opened my front door, stepped outside and was immediately transformed into Phyllis Diller.

If you're reading this blog and you don't know who Phyllis Diller is, one, Google her and quick.

And two, does your momma know you're reading a soon-to-be-cougar's blog?

Okay, stop me if you've heard this one

For the past week Sam has complained off and on that his stomach was cramping and hurting. He didn't have any diarrhea or vomiting or even any nausea, so I kind of just let it go. I know, I know....Mother of the Year, blah blah blah.... However, yesterday from the time he got up, all through church, the entire time we were at Braum's for lunch and after we got home, the child was in pain. At home he was on the couch, knees to his chest, writhing and moaning. He was also running a fever. I called my mom, she had no clue what to do. I called the insurance company's nurse advice line and after running down the list of symptoms, the nurse said, "Oh, girl, you better git that boy to tha hawspital quick!" Only in Oklahoma do the anonymous advice line nurses call you "girl". I think. I could be wrong, but it just seems so right. She had way more twang than your average Okie, anyway. Instead of outsourcing to India, maybe they outsourced to Texas?

So I called Mom back and asked her to call my new stepsisters and biological sister and cancel our Father's Day dinner which was supposed to be happening about an hour and a half from then. I got Paul off the mower and gave him the option of staying with the girls or going with us. Since Kady was wound for sound and holding her own Redneck Diva Idol in the living room wearing only her underwear, a tiara and a feather boa, he decided to stay at home for the time being.

Sam and I drove to the ER (The second time in FOUR DAYS that I've been to our local ER, mind you) and we began our wait. The last time I was in the ER on a Sunday we waited over 3 hours, but we were the only ones in the waiting room, so I didn't think it would be too long. After about 30 minutes of Sam rocking, moaning, whining and me obsessively feeling his forehead to see if his fever was any higher, we were taken back to a room. The nurse asked a bunch of questions, felt around on Sam's belly and when she hit the right lower area and he scrunched up in a ball, she gave me this look that said oh so much. She said she was going to start and IV, do a urine culture and check his white count because she said we'd probably be doing an appendectomy.

Yeah. Did you catch that? We dodge a kidney stone surgery only to dance with a possible appendix removal? The two men in my life are going to drive me mad, I'm tellin' ya.

Sam was a real trooper while she put a hep lock in his hand, drew blood and had him pee in a jug, which he thought was cool. (This nurse was absolutely amazing with him and I will definitely be sending a letter to The Powers That Be at our local hospital to tell them how amazing she was.) Then he settled in to watch Disney Channel and complain intermittently about his belly. In the meantime, Mom and Pops showed up, the doctor came in and pretty much dismissed the appendicitis notion. Not long after he left the room, though, he was back to poke around on Sam some more because his white count was indeed elevated and his urine was clear, thus ruling out bladder/kidney issues. We were again entertaining the appendectomy. Sam started hollering for his daddy, so we made arrangement for the girls and Paul got around to come in.

Then my phone chirped and announced to me that Ottawa County was under a tornado warning. Now, you know that when the wind even thinks about blowing, we go underground these days. Yet here I was in the Emergency Room with my ailing son, my husband was driving (DRIVING!!! Right into the tornado, in my mind) with my daughters, my mom and stepdad were eating dinner somewhere (in my mind, right in the tornado's path) and I was impressed with myself for not climbing under the bed right then and there. Instead I calmly went to the nurse's station and asked the nurse if she was aware we were right in the path of impending destruction. She assured me that we were nowhere near the path of the tornado and it was actually moving away from us and that if we needed to take cover, they'd take care of us. While it wasn't the comfort of my concerete and steel underground 'fraidy hole, it was strangely somewhat calming.

Around 5:20 the Best Nurse Ever came in with a cup of radioactive yumminess for my son to drink because he was scheduled for a CT scan at 7:20. She said at 6:20 she'd be back with another cup, too. Now, if it had been Abby or Kady, they might've complained, but they'd have drank it because that's just how they are. But Sam? Sam is not a try-er, he is not adventurous and does not take kindly to change or anything out of the ordinary - especially food or drink. He is a profound gagger. It took $9 and five stickers, but he got both cups down. Of course, the extra goop in his belly and the stress of drinking it made him hurt, so he got 1mg of morphine to knock the edge off. Good gosh, that was funny.

Mom, Pops and Paul were all there by 7:15, but it was nearly 8 before the guy from Radiology came in to get Sam for his scan. (Sam also earned five more stickers by calling the Radiology guy "Mr. Sunshine" because evidently Best Nurse Ever and Mr. Sunshine exchange insults regularly. Sam thought it was hilarious to be in on the joking.) The nurse had told me there was an enema involved, so I tried to give Sam a clue-in, but I think there is just no adequate way to prepare a 9 year old for that. Poor kid.....again, he was a trooper. A freaked-out trooper, but still a trooper.

The CT scan showed his appendix to be perfectly healthy and the doctor declared it to be a severe stomach virus. She sent him home with some phenergan for nausea, put him on a clear liquid diet for the rest of the night and the BRAT (bananas, rice, applesauce, toast) diet for the next few days. He has declared the BRAT diet to suck first thing this morning when I wouldn't let him have a donut for breakfast. The pain is still intermittent and he's spent the entire day on the couch, playing PS2 and watching cartoons. I have slept because I'm hoping that the more I sleep, the faster time will go by and possibly we might avoid more:

a) household disasters, ie. electrical freakouts and busted water lines
b) raging cases of strep
c) kidney stones
d) tornadoes
e) fake appendicitis
d) ANY more trips to the ER, period.

You know, for years I have been afraid of the 3rd of July. Now, June isn't looking all that great either.

But, man my house is clean. I'm a stress cleaner and I've obviously had a lot of stress to keep me motivated.