Projectile Vomit in a Moving, er Non-Moving Vehicle

We had a homeschool trip planned today for the Discovery Place in Charlotte to see the Mummy Exhibit.  To begin with, we had to MEET the other homeschoolers at 7:30 *am*...which totally messed up my beauty sleep, but I managed ...and was even on time.
Ahhhh...  we saw the sun creeping over the horizon...  saw the front end of that big rig right in front of me....WAIT!  dang sun was right IN my eyes....see!!!  *THAT* is why people should stay in bed until the sun is at an acceptable, SAFE sky level.  DANG.
At any rate, we are making good progress..our long caravan of homeschooling mommas... until we get to I-77.  The traffic was backed up for several miles in both lanes.  Around the time that we are sitting in said traffic, a voice pipes up from the back..."Mom...I feel really sick."  I look in the rear view and sure enough, there's a pale, sickly face grimacing back at me.  OH.FREAKIN.NO.  So, I attempt to maintain my composure in the face of this impending disaster and say, "I'll roll down a window...get a drink of your gatorade...everything will be fine." 
And then.....
Let me stop you for a second.  Have you ever seen the movie The Exorcist?  You know the green projectile vomit scene?

 

Yeah.  That one.  There ya go...see it in your mind's eye.  Now, look in the rear view mirror with me.  Yes.  You saw it, too.
To my utter horror, in the mirror, I see my son cough, hurl, spew green vomit...in a projectile fashion.  My insides rolled over and played dead.  And then to further my horror, it was as though someone hit instant replay three or four more times.  Child #2 (names have been omitted to protect identity of the spewer) who is sitting beside the hurler raises his hands to plead with me, and with an absolute look of panic on his face, says most fiercely, "MOM!  PULL OVER!!  MOM!!! GET *OFF* THE ROAD!!"  Poor thing.  But, we are in the left lane.  And the right lane is backed up.  There's no way for me to get off the road.  And no exit for at least a mile.  And then child #3 who was sitting in front of the hurler, throws herself between the two front seats, gagging incessantly, saying, "MOM!!!  HE THREW UP ON MY SHIRT!!"  (you have to know as I write this, I am laughing so hard..  it was insane...truly)  and child #3 just doesn't say it once...she's repeating it...while whimpering...crying...panicking. In the meantime...
About the time hurler projected vomit the second time, I was in great fear of losing the battle with my cappuccino that was forcing its way up my esophagus.  I rolled down my window...hung my head out like Jim Carrey....



And child #2 and child #3 are getting louder and louder... only, I can't focus because of the smell of puke... and I'm fighting down the urge...and trying to swallow it down far enough to answer them and tell them for the LOVE of heaven...PLEASE shut up!!! Mommy is about to toss her cookies!  By the way, I don't say shut up to my kids....just one of my pet peeves.  HOWEVER....with hurler hurling, child #2 still pleading with me to pull off the road, child #3 on my ARM screaming, "he puked on me!!!!!!!!"  (i have NO idea what child #4 was doing)  and traffic at a near stand still, I mustered up enough puke free saliva to say, "SHUT UP!  stop talking!  I want to get off this road just as badly as you do!!"  (who are we kidding...we BOTH know I wanted off that freaking road about a gazillion times worse than they did)
I finally got to an exit. ..  drove to Walgreens and we emptied out of the vomit comet.  MERCIFUL HEAVENS.  I take one look at everyone and laugh.  and laugh. and laugh.  And then I go to the bathroom and puke my cappuccino.  And try to wash puke asteroids off the back of child #3's shirt....who is, by the way...still crying.  Of course, I have to give the kid kudos.  There is NO way in HADES that someone could have hurled on the back of my shirt without me puking up every last cell in my body.  And there is NO way that I could have been child #2 and not completely lost it sitting beside the hurler.  OH.MY.GAH.
I bought pine sol, lysol, and armed myself with as big a wad of bathroom paper towels as I could carry out without looking like I was trying to pad my sidewalk cardboard box home for a good night's sleep.  I got out to the car and turned to child #2 and said, "I'm gonna need more towels."
I scrubbed.  and scrubbed.  and gagged.  and scrubbed.  and then gagged some more.  and sprayed lysol.  LOTS of lysol.  and maybe used the entire roll of paper towels in the bathroom.  Thank you, Walgreens. 
And then I drove to Target and bought child #3 a new shirt.  And I bought myself some wine.  not really.  not that I didn't need it, but...  I have found that I'm scary enough sober.  :)
And we got back in the car....I found the Discovery Place with no GPS...thank you to the kind man at the red light. ...and we went in and viewed the mummies.  because puke don't stop us, baby.  well, not for long, anyway....

p.s.  although I am right handed, I had to scrub the puke with my left hand.  you wanna know why?  gross post #2 to follow... don't say i didn't warn you.

2012

i sincerely hope that the coming year is like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon. i hope that all the beauty and wonder and heart that is inside of you (and me) cracks open the cocoon of whatever keeps us tightly bound, and that our wings unfurl and glisten in the dawn of a brand new year. i hope we take flight and flutter unhindered and free. ♥

My Buck (Goat) Trapped Me in the Shed. True Story.

I've told you about my buck, right?

Yes.  I have.....here:  http://homeschoolinghomesteadinginthepresent.blogspot.com/2010/12/goat-quandries.html

So, the facts that we have established about Jem Dandy thus far are:   number one - he is a buck. number two - he is a big buck. like, a nearly look me in the eye buck.  number three - he smells really, really, really strong....so strong that there is a good chance your eyes will water and you'll carry the smell away with you on your clothes and skin if you make any contact with him, whatsoever.  And the smell doesn't just wash off. The fragrance is buck in rut. And I don't even know how to explain it in a way that would do it justice.  number four - he has a pen....that he's supposed to stay in.

Last week, the kids and I were just arriving home from a fun little 4-H rendezvous, laughing and talking....  WAIT.   What tha heck??  WHAT.THA.HECK.IS.JEM.DANDY.DOING.IN.THE.FRONT.YARD? Well, I *know* what he was doing.  He was eating and grazing and LOUNGING. But, *WHY* was he doing it in the front yard?? Imagine the thrill of excitement that washed over me. (Yes, that's it...imagine it starting with a tingling in my brain and ending with a cramp in the first knuckle of the pinky toe on my left foot.) 

I go in the house, change clothes, and mentally prepare myself by doing some Karate Kid moves. Wax on, Wax off.  Wax on.....

My first thought was, Hey...I can sooo do this.  I'll just get some feed in my little pail, and he'll follow me right up to his pen....in the BACK yard...UP the little hill.... and to the LEFT. So, I get the pail, walk toward him and lo and behold, he walks toward me.  I'm feeling so Mr. Miyagi (Karate Kid's teacher). Then I realize that he's only following the girls.  My milk goat is very well trained.  She'll walk up the fence line to the milk stand. He was simply walking up the fence line because she was....NOT because I was Mr. Miyagi-esqe. And since he wasn't actually following me, guess what happened when Annie stopped at the milk stand?  HE stopped at the milk stand.  Which is a good (oh, I hate guesstimating distances) 20-25 feet from his pen.  DANG!  Now I have a dilemma.  So, I try to coax him further with the feed pail. Nothing doing. I decided to get the leash, hook it on his collar, and lead him up to the pen....in a civilized manner. AS SOON AS I put the leash on him, he goes all gangsta...starts shaking his head, backing up, and raring like he's going to butt me.  I was NOT excited.  I might have yelped.  I am loathe to admit that some of my "I can sooo do this" faltered.  I reach over very s-l-o-w-l-y and unhook the leash from his collar...but, he's already feeling antsy...and he comes after me... for all of the world looking like he wants to hit me.  With his head.  On my body. And make it hurt.  You wanna know what I did?  *Blush*

I turned and hid in the shed.  :)   Ok.  *Technically* I just wandered inside the shed, and sorta closed the door behind me.  Because...I wanted to... you know...look around a bit and see if it needed cleaning.  The fact that Jem was on the other side of the door sniffing it had absolutely nothing to do with me choosing to be penned inside.  Nothing at all.  So, I peek out the door and there he is.  DANG!  I just KNEW he was going to butt the door and pop it open. And then I'd be trapped.  And have to wrestle him to the floor.  Absolutely.  So, I screamed.... just to warn him.  And realized I had my phone.  So, while I'm waiting, I think, ohhhh...wonder if I can get on facebook on my tracfone??  (yes, I have tracfone.  I'll wait while you snort, spit your drink out, and clean off your monitor.) Everybody knows nothing *really* happens till you post it on facebook.  Wonder of all wonders!!  I was able to comment on my post on facebook.  It took FOREVER...but, hey...I'm trapped in a goat shed...what else is there to do??

About this time, my oldest son comes outside armed with a bbgun....he pops him in the rear a few times (from a considerable distance) and I'm able to leave the shed.  Yeah...I was finished, anyway.   Jem runs from the bbgun ping on his hindquarters and is now acting a tad more nervous.  Malachi thought we should go inside and just leave him.  HECK, NO!  Be outdone by a *goat*??  NEVER!  I remember that goats like evergreens, so I find a little cedar tree and break out the top.  Walking up to Jem, I rubbed it on his nose, and he started following me trying to get a bite.  Yay!  This might work!!  He follows me up the hill and I'm feelin' pretty fly. I'm freakin' winning!! :) And then he stops at the trash...sees a box...and a plastic bag full of plastic bags.  *Sigh* He pulls the bags out and starts butting and hitting and throwing them everywhere.  I'm not sure if it was just the sound he liked, or what?  So, I grab the box, a plastic bag, and am still holding the cedar tree top.  And I begin luring him again.  He figured out how to get the bag out of my hand...knocked it around...and then looked bored again and walked BACK down to the bottom of the hill.  I keep knocking him on the nose with the cedar and luring him back to the top.  I did this about forty five and three-fourths times.  And it was getting really old. And my hand was breaking out from cedar irritation.  And Malachi almost shot me with the bbgun. And I was beginning to wonder if I *could* do this.  And THEN....it started getting weird.

Do you have any idea how goats mate tease let each other know they want to mate??  Well, the female will get in front of the buck, flip her tail in his face, and walk off a few feet.  He'll follow her and she'll continue doing the same thing.  This gets him all excited and his upper lip will curl, he'll make guttural, grunting noises and lick his tongue out.  You know how I was doing that thing with the cedar branch?  You know...flipping it in his face and then walking off a few feet?  FLIPPING IT IN HIS FACE AND WALKING OFF A FEW FEET.  (let that sink in) OH.MY.GAH.  Yes.  Exactly.

He started talking to me and licking his tongue out.  *I faint*

I would flip the cedar in his face and he would just stand stock still.  And then freakin lunge at me while doing the grunting noise and trying to lick - NOT THE CEDAR BRANCH, BUT UNDER THE BRANCH.  *cringe*  I was dying.  And I can't quit.  Because it's working.  He's following me.  BUT FOR ALL THE WRONG REASONS. VERY WRONG REASONS.


I had to continue teasing my buck goat all the way to his pen.  I was finally standing inside his pen and he wouldn't come any farther than the gate.  So, I do a little lunging of my own, grab his collar, and pull him in with me.  Wait.  I pulled him inside the pen with me.  I think the cedar was getting to me.  I laid the box down for him. (Yes...I was STILL holding the box.  It gave me some distance between me and his tongue.) I backed out of the pen...he peed on his face in triumph...or despair?  I don't know....and our dance was done.  WHEW.  Color me relieved.  And violated. Slightly.  I needed a shower.

I did find some nails and attempted to fix the fence where I thought he was getting out.  He came over to me and looked at me with his big goat eyes and licked at me once more.  I think we bonded, actually.  I just never want to flip him on the nose with anything. EVER. again.   :)

Signs Your Four Year Old May Be Too Computer Savvy

"Mom, Can I have a Poptart?"
"Sure, honey."
"And I want to put it in the toaster and *scroll* down."

Through My Fingers Like Sand.....

Do you ever feel like you are clutching things in the palm of your hand?  That you are gripping them so tightly that your nails are leaving little crescent moon shaped marks in your skin? And you open your fist, only to observe that, like sand, they are slipping through your fingers...and there's nothing there.  And you get tired of the gripping.  The constant hold.  You want to open your hand and have something sit there because it wants to ....not because you are gripping it.  You don't want to have to worry about it falling softly between your fingers and being gone forever.  You want to touch it...caress it... care for it. But, you don't want to have to clutch it out of fear of its loss.  Sometimes, you just get tired of the gripping.

Little Things That Let You Know You Totally Rock

1)  You lean over in church to pick something off the floor and bang your head on the pew in front of you so hard your eyeballs do a hallelujah dance.  (normally, you're leaning over to pick up one of those chocolate chip grips almost crushed so that the smell of chocolate is more intense and wafts up to tantalize your stomach that is empty because you have to choose between eating and putting on clothes to actually be there on time..and being that it's church, as opposed to say, WalMart, you kinda need clothes)

2) You are walking through the mall, texting your best friend something of the up most importance, like say, the fact that you really have to pee and the bathroom is on the other side of the mall....and nearly take out a six foot transparent sign in the middle of the mall walkway.  When I say "take out" the sign, I mean run straight in to it...face first, straddling it, eating the sign.  (in my defense, the sign was TRANSPARENT...  my peripherals didn't pick up on it quickly enough)

3)  You walk out of the rain into a gas station wearing flip flops and PURPOSELY wipe your feet on the mat because you KNOW FROM EXPERIENCE how slippery they are when wet.. you step off the mat, and BAM!!  You're on your bum...and you can't quit laughing...and you have to pee....  and ....  the cashier is still laughing when you finally make your way to the front. 


4) You are in the passenger seat, going down the road, enjoying the breeze coming in through the open window, when suddenly out of nowhere, something hits the antennae and comes flying in the window and lands in your lap.  To your horror, you look down and see....A FREAKIN BIRD...LYING IN YOUR LAP.  seriously.  I can't be the only one that's happened to...right?  RIGHT??  And then I'm paralyzed.  Because there's a bird.in.my.lap.  I mean, what do you do with that?


5)  You raise goats.  You milk goats.  One day, you help birth a goat.  And you snuggle him, and hold him, and call him your very own ...George.  And then your face swells, your eyes get puffy, and you realize you are allergic to goats... How can you develop an allergy to something you do every day of your life?.... and so you check into Michelin Man commercial opportunities ...because everyone knows you don't let a good swelling go to waste. 


I'm going to stop here, because if I don't, I will be tempted to share my favorite example of supreme "ROCK" epitome at the OB/GYN office.  And I'm not sure either of us want that.  But, it was funny.  Super funny.  Maybe if I see you out, I'll tell you.

This Day....

This day began at 12:00 am last night.  But then, y'all already knew that. What you don't know is what all this day has held since the clock struck that number.

As an aside, now that most clocks are digital, what phrase will take the place of "when the clock strikes midnight"?  That's so visually stimulating...  what does a digital clock do that can compete with that??   When the pixels flash midnight?  I don't know....seems lame.


So, my *intentions* were to sit up last night and work on the next unit study...which is a mini unit on teeth - per my 8 year old's request.  I also need to prepare for the next full unit study, which is yet to be determined...  Maybe atoms and molecules, but I have a third grader, so I don't know.  I'll have to see if it's too advanced.


ANYWAY, I got distracted folding clothes.  I only got distracted folding clothes to overcome my guilt for becoming distracted by a movie I began watching. At 1:30, I finally decide to go to bed.  I fall asleep and just reach the very fringes of REM and the nice paralysis that comes with it, and I'm awakened by the sound of incessant coughing.  Being mommy, I manually peel my eyelids back from my eyeballs, pick my legs up off the bed, set them on the floor, and stumble to the kids' rooms. I walk in to find Isaac sitting up in bed, red-faced, and mucus laden....the kind of laden that involves smears and bubbles. (you're welcome for the visual) After a quick hug and kiss (on the one dry spot on his head), I'm off to retrieve cough syrup.  As he is taking the syrup, he's suddenly seized with a massive coughing fit - while I'm in his face - meaning that the whole mouth full of medicine is now dripping off my nose ....and running into my eyes ... and sticking my eyelashes together.  Yeah, okay.  I'll just go get another dose for ya, baby.  He settles down...I'm back in bed.  Ahhhhh...finally.  Thirty minutes later, "MOOOOOOOOMMAAA!!" and his ear is hurting.  Oh well, sleep is overrated.  I mean, it only makes you think coherently, be able to remember things, keeps you relatively sane.....  who needs it?  So, I give up, go get a blanket and a pillow, and make myself (un)comfortable on the floor beside his bed.  And then the day dawns and I'm refreshed and ready to go....

*RIGHT*

I'm pretty excited to go outside and do farm chores, given the fact that it's raining so hard the puddles are holding umbrellas, but I venture out anyway.  I get up to the goat pen/feed shed and I see the door moving from the inside.  And I groaned because I *knew*.  There is this partition created by a wooden frame with wire inside it, that separates the goats' area from the little area where the feed barrels sit.  If the door is moving, that means the goats have somehow knocked that partition down and are with the barrels....well, technically, the barrels were with the goats, because they definitely weren't where they were supposed to be....the barrels NOR the goats.  So, I brace myself, open the door, and sure enough, there she stands triumphantly on the partition, looking very....well, triumphant.  The barrel that held the chicken feed is overturned and chicken feed is everywhere.  The empty barrel is overturned. Guess which barrel isn't overturned?  The goat feed barrel.  It's the only one they can't get open!  Hahahahahaa....  In the words of Mater (from Cars) "that's funny right thar"  So, after a few scathing remarks, which I'm sure hurt the goats deeply, I began cleaning up the mess.  When I finally got around to giving the goats the feed they had been so determined (albeit, in vain) to get to, turns out they weren't even hungry.  Little too much chicken feed, I presume.  Serves 'em right.


After that, the kids and I decided we had waited long enough for a Christmas tree and we were determined to go get one.  Malachi and I cut our own tree down one year...it started out as one trunk and then separated into two... we only cut one side down.  This meant one side was completely bare, but turns out it was okay because we knew where to find matching limbs.  Hahaha...we cut one off and tied it on with twine.  This year, we thought we'd assimilate to normal behavior and just buy one...that had branches all around.   We all pack in the car and are off to find the perfect tree.  I only saw one place selling them...Food Lion...and the kids were just not having it.  "Mom...those trees aren't big enough."  I'm pretty easy to get along with....besides, it just so happens that the sky had opened up again and we were debating the whole affair in a monsoon.  So, I bought a grape Amp and figured we'd wait a day.  Instead, we went to Flick Video based on our recent knowledge that games are only 99 cents on Wednesday.  I had it in my mind that I wanted Just Dance 3....only when I get in there, I see the box in the new release section, but no game behind it.  Dang, I was so disappointed.  After some time though, I look at the box again, and there's a green label stuck to the front that says, "Take green box to front for game"...and I get all excited...and say, "Oh! look, Jacob! It says take green box....I can take this to the front and get it...they must do it different for new releases" and I'm all yippee skippee and excited....and Jacob gives me a look and says, "Mom... that box isn't green...it's just the label."  Oh... yeah. I then to further his embarrassment, I snort laugh.


Oh, and Isaac watched Prep and Landing: Naughty or Nice the other night and since that time, asks me EVERY DAY, several times a day, "Mommy, am I on the naughty list?"
"No, baby."   (That's Mommy.  Guess I'll be buying my own gifts this year....but, what with the lack of sleep, if I purchase them early enough and wrap them, by Christmas I'll have forgotten what I got me. Cool, huh?)