mandyholbert

A glimpse into our family – the good, the bad, and, of course, the funny

Our Own Terabithia September 25, 2012

The king made the decision – they would seek refuge for the night high in the trees.  And so the royal family made preparations to camp perched in the branches of a towering poplar.

They climbed into her branches and peered through the leaves into the enchanted forest.  The queen and her two small children settled in for the long, cold night while the king scavenged for firewood with their trusty Boxador.

He returned with a cart full of freshly chopped wood and built a fire high above the forest floor.  The family huddled around the small fire and roasted their dinner, keeping the aroma of sweet meat in the leafy canopy in the growing darkness.

When the stars began peeking through the leaves to get a glimpse of the royal family, the queen prepared pallets upon which they would slumber.  The king stoked the fire and the queen tucked the small boy and girl into their downy blankets.

The poplar embraced the family with her giant limbs while they gave way to sleep.  The ever-attentive dog kept watch for the wild things of the night…

We had a true Terabithian adventure last weekend – we spent the night in the tree house directly under the stars.  It was all Ronnie’s idea, and the kids were understandably thrilled about the plan.

I, on the other hand, wasn’t really what you would call a happy camper.  It was cold and windy and I was miserable.  We only own two sleeping bags, so the kids naturally got those, so Ronnie and I covered up with rather inadequate (for the circumstances) blankets and froze our butts off.  The cool breeze chilled me from every angle – it had the unique advantage of even being able to get us from underneath since we positioned ourselves in a tree.

Ronnie tried so hard to make me comfortable.  He was really sweet.  He moved my cot closer to the fire and told me he’d be fine if I went to the house.  I couldn’t sleep at all.  I swear every time I closed my eyes, the fire went out.  We spent all night trying to keep it going.  All I could think about were Copperheads.  And when I did manage to doze, I dreamed of fighting off the bears that were trying to eat us.

Sometime in the middle of the night, Ronnie and I were lying there, freezing and resigned to the fact that we weren’t going to sleep, and he said to me, “At least you’re being a good sport.”

“I am?” I asked, a little surprised, but proud of myself.

“Not really,” he answered, “but at least you’re doing it.”

And that kind of summed up the night for us.  I wanted morning to come so badly.

Then, to our surprise, we heard Kendra’s sweet little voice.  ”The stars in the trees look amazing.  This is so cool.”  I looked over to see her sleepily enthralled by the view above her.

That changed everything.  Even when she needed to walk all the way back to the house to use the bathroom and get more socks, it didn’t bother me.  I didn’t even notice the cold while we walked.  Well, while I walked and she skipped and chattered about how cool it was to walk in the dark and how amazing nature is.

When we got back to the tree house, I zipped her back into her sleeping bag and she went right back to sleep.  I checked on Max.  He was snoozing happily even though he was completely uncovered.  I felt him and he was  somehow warm as can be.  I zipped him back up, too.

I climbed back in my cot.  Even though we had hours left until dawn, we were out of firewood, and it was getting colder and colder, it was somehow not quite as terrible knowing how much fun the kids were having.

I think they’ll remember it forever.  And we will, too.  And I think we all might remember it as the royal family on an enchanted adventure…

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At least lightning doesn’t strike twice…Right? July 31, 2012

It all started with a lightning strike…

Our dogs are contained by an invisible fence.  When the lightning struck, it fried the fence, so obviously, it didn’t work any more.

This meant the dogs could now get to the garden that contains the rabbit hutch, and the dogs seized the opportunity.  I barely saved the rabbits from becoming a snack, and I moved them temporarily to the garage until we could repair the fence.

The fence is finally repaired.  The dogs are back where they belong.  The rabbits are back where they belong (and are enjoying weeding the garden for me again).

However, in the meantime, one of the chickens crossed from the back yard where they are safe to the front yard where they are closely observed by very interested dogs and then to the driveway where they are in the territory of dogs who have felt unnecessarily teased by the presence of chickens just out of their reach.

A dog ate the chicken.

We learned that hamsters are nocturnal.  Ours enjoys running in its ball all night long.  Not that it keeps me awake or anything.

Meanwhile, the goats got sick.  Very sick.  They had awful diarrhea and we had to sanitize everything and nurse them back to health.  ”Poop” is not a strong enough word to describe what I scrubbed from their bottoms.  I straddled them backwards while Ronnie held their heads and comforted them while I cleaned caked-on sh*t from their behinds, legs, and tummies.  It. was. disgusting.

They’re better now.

But, Sparkles, our cat, is missing.  We haven’t seen her in several days.  Kendra is out looking for her right now.

So, currently, we have two dogs, six five chickens, two rabbits (thank goodness!), two goats (that was a close one, too), four toads, a tree frog, a hamster, and a missing cat.

Why do we have animals again?

 

 

Roxy and Zeke, meet your new little friends. May 14, 2012

I’ve already made it pretty clear that I don’t know what I’m doing when it comes to animals (or much else, for that matter).  If you missed Welcome to your new home, little goats, you may want to read it before reading this.  It explains a lot.

Ronnie and his dad (thanks, Papa Sherm!) built the fence for the goats on Saturday.  Up until that point, they were in a dog kennel – a less than ideal situation, to say the least.  I never realized how baby goats cry.  It’s loud.

Anyway, we worked all day getting their new pen ready.  As we were finishing up, my parents stopped by.  Add my sister who lives next door and my two kids, and we had enough characters to produce a true comedy.  Of course, that’s not we had planned.  It was strictly business – moving the goats from point A (the dog kennel in the back yard) to point B (the new pen in the woods) while avoiding the obstacles named Roxy and Zeke (obviously, the dogs).  Kind of like a covert operation…or an episode of American Gladiators.

Of course, this was complicated by the facts that the goats were wearing collars entirely too big for their necks and that they go crazy if separated from each other.  I hooked them both to leashes and had Max entice them forward with a bucket of food.  It kind of worked.  A little.

Then, my dad’s mind flashed to the nativity my mom displays every Christmas and what were those Biblical shepherds holding?  A broom!  Well, not really, but that’s what he used to scoot them along.  So, we had Max and my mom shaking goat food in a bucket calling them, me trying my best to pull them while not allowing the collars to slip over their heads, and my dad (still in his arm sling from recent shoulder surgery) bumping their butts with a broom and sounding very shepherd-ish.

We made it!  We put the goats in the pen and closed the gate, and that’s when the dogs went ballistic, barking and lunging at the fence.  Whose idea was it to put the dogs in there to “get it over with”?  I’m not sure in all of the confusion that was going on.  But, that’s what I did.  I put Zeke on a leash first (I thought his natural instincts would take over since he’s an Australian Shepherd mix) and brought him in.

He walked over to the goats and tried to nip at one.  That baby goat put his head down and deflected the dog with a swift upward motion that introduced Zeke to what those cute little horns are for.  Zeke quickly got the idea.  He walked over to the feed bucket and ate some goat food.  Weird dog.

Next was Roxy’s turn.  What.  A.  Disaster.  She immediately lunged at a goat in attack mode (of course, now I realize what a stupid idea this was.  I never would even consider putting Sparkles the cat in the chicken yard.  I amaze myself sometimes with my stupid ideas).  The goats fought back.  I tried to pull Roxy off but she was so strong the cable I was restraining her with slid and blistered my fingers.  I think I almost lost my pinky.  It was bad.

And then it turned worse.  She slipped right out of her collar.

I screamed for Ronnie, who happened to be about two hundred feet away.  I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me that both my dad and my dad-in-law were right on the other side of the fence.  They both barreled into the goat lot to help.  Papa Sherm blocked the goats and my dad picked Roxy up (remember, he only has use of one arm) by the nape of her neck and threw her out of the gate.

I won’t go into all of the polite conversation between my husband and me that happened at this point.  I was a little worked up.  And he was slightly perturbed with me.  Slightly.

Well, the goats are in their lot.  The dogs can not get in the lot.  Ronnie and I are still married.  My family thinks I’m a fool.

I’d say it was a successful day.

 

Welcome to your new home, little goats. May 11, 2012

What in the world am I thinking!?  I am NOT an animal person, and I just spent the better part of the morning wrestling with two baby goats that we brought home last night.  Goats are strong, by the way.  And stinky.

Why do I have two goats in a cage?  That’s a good question.  Let me begin by sharing how we acquired our other animals.

The day we got our dog, we were not even considering a puppy.  I took the kids to the pet store just to look at the animals.  Then I saw her.  She was sitting in that pitiful little pen.  Just sitting there looking at me with those big sad eyes.  Begging to be rescued.  Then I noticed the sign on her pen – CLEARANCE.  I knew I had to have her.  So I paid the slashed price and asked the shopkeeper to hold her while I ran to Wal-Mart to buy the things normal people purchase in preparation for a puppy.  And to call my husband to inform him of the new addition to our family.

Who could resist those eyes?

I was guilted into our next pet acquisition.  Kendra really played me on this one.  How could I not buy her the little kitty when her brother had a puppy.  After all, she had always dreamed of having a kitten for her whole entire life.  So, we bought the kitten and then went back to Wal-Mart for kitten stuff.

Sparkles the kitten.

The dog and cat were enough for a long while.  Until one day, the kids really decided they absolutely couldn’t live without pet rabbits.  So, we bought them.  They had to live in a dog kennel in the garage for a few days while Ronnie built them a hutch.  Why?  Because, once again, we were unprepared.

Pleeease, Mom and Dad, pleeeease!?

Well, after that, we tried fish, but that didn’t work so well as you remember if you read my post To Flush or Not to Flush.  Moving on.

Time went on.  We went through several rabbits, and my sister added a dog to the mix, but we pretty much stayed the same for a few months.  Then, my son started really taking interest in frogs.  Since I’ve always been very determined not to pass my irrational fear on to my kids, I helped him build a habitat in the unused fish aquarium, and we put four frogs he captured in it.  I have to concentrate on not letting it bother me that there are frogs in his bedroom.  I don’t go in there much.

Then, Ronnie decided to get chickens.  Fresh eggs, teaching responsibility, all that good stuff.  I went along with it because the baby chicks were so cute.  However, since we were – you guessed it – unprepared! – the chickens lived in a container in my kitchen too long for me to end up liking them.  And, honestly, now that they’re older, they scare me to death.  They’re like frogs with feathers.  And beaks and long claws.  Terrifying.

So, that brings me to the goats.  We knew we were going to buy them, so we bought all the supplies to build a fence for them.  We even started on it.  Good, huh?  Unfortunately, that’s all we did, so when we went to get the goats last night, we brought them home and had nowhere to put them.  Typical of us, really.

I was supposed to put collars on them this morning, and tie them to something so they could be out for the day until we finish the fence tomorrow.  Good plan, huh?  Well, it was a failure.  Goats don’t like collars.  Goats don’t like being led on a leash.  Goats make a lot of racket, poop all the time, and jump around like bucking broncos.  Who knew they’d be kind of like little donkeys?  Not me, that’s for  sure.

So, Max and I managed to get them to the backyard, but the collars I bought were too big, and everything that could go wrong went wrong, and they probably hate me already, and they’re only 106 days old and now they’re probably traumatized, and I’m afraid they’re going to bite me, and the dogs are barking at them like crazy, and the goats are bleeting at the top of their little lungs, and I have goat pee and poop and hair all over me, and I’m not really sure how I feel about goats now.

We’ll build the fence tomorrow.

In the meantime, I’ve heard a rumor that someone we know has a pot-bellied pig they don’t want any more…

 

 

Balloons and Dog Treats March 30, 2012

Filed under: children,family,humor,Max,parenting,Silly Situations — mandyholbert @ 6:29 am
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Ahhhh…Friday evening. The end of the work week. The beginning of the weekend. Time to relax and have fun. Kick back. Chill.

We thought we’d go out for pizza, a regular thing for us on Friday nights. It’s easy and the kids like it. Especially since the restaurant gives out balloons on Fridays. All the kids have to do to get a balloon of their choice is to behave and eat their dinner. Should be an easy task since dinner is pizza and fries and the atmosphere is relaxed and family oriented.

Well, let’s just say that Max was having a little trouble behaving tonight. Well, maybe more than a little trouble. He wiggled, threw things on the floor, and was otherwise unruly. At one point, he got up from hs chair to do a bizarre dance of some sort in which he ran in place while flailing his arms and shaking his head back and forth (of course with his tongue out). Sparing you the more embarrassing details of his (shall I say?) uncharacteristic behavior, let’s just say that he forfeited his balloon quite early in the meal. Not that we didn’t give him ample opportunity to redeem himself – I can’t even begin to count the number of times we said something to the effect of “Max, if you’ll sit there and be a good boy now, you can still get a balloon.” No such luck.

I don’t know about your kids, but mine are usually in cohorts with each other. If one is bad, they are both bad. If one is grumpy, they are both grumpy. You get the idea. But, there, at the other end of the table, sat Kendra eating her dinner with impeccable manners and perfect behavior. You see, she had her eye on a yellow balloon from the time we walked in the restaurant, and every breath she took, she took with that yellow balloon in mind. She couldn’t have been any better.

So, what were we to do? We had to let Kendra get her yellow balloon, and we certainly couldn’t go back on our word and let Max get one too. So, our little princess pranced out of the restaurant with her prize, and our little devil left empty-handed.

Everything was fine until we got to the truck and Max realized we were really leaving. Then, he had a slight meltdown. He kept saying, “Mom I a good boy! Dad I a good boy! I want a balloon! Go back Mom! I want a balloon!!”

That hurt. No matter how naughty he was, it still hurt to see him sad. Especially with Kendra sitting there enjoying her yellow balloon a little more than she would have if Max would have gotten one too.

Well, the crying finally subsided. Things were calm. This was good. Then, Kendra said she needed to spit out her bubblegum.

So, naturally, what did I do? What did wondermom do? Rolled down the window, of course. And, yep, out went the yellow balloon. I think time froze as Kendra’s face went from shocked to horrified to accusing to devastated in a matter of seconds. Time froze, that is, until her earth-shattering sobs started. That was not one of my finer moments as a mother.

Well, Ronnie stepped up and calmed the situation by suggesting a peace-offering for the next day. So things were good again. And we were finally home. Time to spend a little quality time with the pets before bed. I thought it would be fun to give the pets a treat, so Max gave one to Roxy and Kendra gave some to Sparkles.

I’ll never really know what goes on in that head of my son’s, but when I went to look for him after he fed Roxy, I found him in the garage squatting on the floor next to the box of dog treats.

“I bite one Mom. I eat a treat.”

One smell of his breath confirmed it. The boy ate a dog treat.

Okay, so obviously it was time to go in and get cleaned up and brush teeth and stuff. I apologized to Kendra for the sixty-seventh time and romped on the floor for a while with the kids. We decided it was time for bed when Kendra tried to flip off the couch as Max did a cannonball off the top of the furniture…

Not exactly the relaxing evening I had in mind. And just think. It’s only Friday. We still have the whole weekend ahead of us…

 

Thursday Reflections March 29, 2012

Filed under: family,food — mandyholbert @ 9:07 pm
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My middle sister who lives next door to me and owns a dog named Zeke – I’ll call her Vickie to maintain her anonymity – told me this was going to be a hard week *sigh* *mean face* *sigh* (she was kind of mad at me).  She was mad because we decided to move the dogs’ invisible fence Monday night, which she thought meant she would spend the whole week training Zeke on the new boundary.

Well, it’s Thursday, and it’s been a pretty darn good week.  The dogs are trained.  That allowed me to move the rabbits out to their new home in the garden without fear of the dogs eating them.  That in turn allowed me to get our new six baby chickens out of my kitchen and into the garage.  And I did all of this without our cat killing anyone involved!

I discovered a nest full of eggs in the bird house in the garden.  The blueberry bushes and grape vines have new growth.  The hostas have popped up and filled out.  The honeysuckle is blooming.  And I don’t have chickens in my kitchen.

It’s spring, and I can’t wait to get out there and get my hands dirty.  To grow vegetables and prune the flowers.  This week has me so looking forward to the next few months.  Months that will be spent outside with my family and our little farm we seem to have started.

I’m sure there’ll be stories about these chickens.  They pretty much freak me out.  But, until then, I’ll enjoy watching them like I enjoy watching our two little bunnies hop around.  Yep, it’s been a pretty good week.

 

Confession: I Have Killed March 21, 2012

Filed under: Confessions,family,humor,parenting — mandyholbert @ 5:13 am
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My neighbor’s dog bit my daughter.  Of course, that meant war.

The dog terrorized us every chance it got.  We could not check our mail.  The kids couldn’t play outside in peace.  Our own dog was even afraid of that ferocious beagle-mix.  It chased my car with teeth bared every time I left my driveway.

One day, I had enough.  I had tried all the reasonable methods to take care of the problem.  Nothing reasonable worked.  And this was war.

When I pulled out of my driveway this time, I saw the dog come running towards my car.  I saw its bloodshot eyes and the slobber dangling from the growling mouth already poised to bite whatever got in its way.

It charged my car.  I made a split-second decision.  I decided to obey something I remembered from driver’s ed as a teenager.  When an animal runs in front of you, only run off the road or hit your brakes if it is safe to do so.  Well, it wasn’t. This war had to end.  This dog was playing chicken with the wrong girl.

Thu-wump.

Let the record state, I did not accelerate.  I did not swerve towards the animal.  I did not, in any way, try to hit the dog.  I simply didn’t try not to hit the dog.

I stopped my car and looked around.  I got out and walked back to where the dog (the dog who bit my child) lay in the road.

A neighbor appeared out of no where.

What I thought: Ding, dong the witch is dead!  The wicked witch, the wicked witch!  Ding, dong the wicked witch is dead!  

What I said:  Oh dear!  I think I broke its leg or something.

The neighbor looked at the dog, looked at me, and looked back at the dog as if considering if I were really that stupid.  ”That dog is about to take its last breath,” and as if on cue, the dog deflated.

 

Wait a Minute! Shouldn’t My Dog Have Warned Me!? March 7, 2012

Filed under: family,humor,pets,Silly Situations — mandyholbert @ 5:10 am
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Every once in a while, my mind takes an extra moment to register something. Oh, what pretty ice crystals, I thought when I saw the shattered glass of my driver’s side window shimmering on the ground after work one night. That guy has a really big thumb when a man parked beside my car and showed me something that I did not want to see that was certainly not his thumb. That looks like a copperhead as I barefooted out the driveway with my dog at dusk one night.

That looks like a copperhead! Stop walking, self!! Stop walking towards it – that is a snake!!

When I finally stopped walking, I was within a few feet of the fat devilish beast. I screamed hysterically. I tried to call Ronnie to come kill the snake, but it sounded more like someone was burning me at the stake and the fire had just started roasting my toes. Unintelligible.

It should really tell you something about my way of reacting to things that Ronnie did not come running. He walked over, saw the snake, laughed at me, and w-a-l-k-e-d to get a shovel.

In the meantime, I was standing guard, making sure that poisonous fiend that had encroached on my yard where my children play didn’t get away before Ronnie could end its hideous existence.

When Ronnie finally got back wearing heavy work books and wielding a shovel, he assessed the situation carefully before striking with the shovel.

He missed the head and hit the snake in such a way as to pin it down, but it was still able to hiss and fight violently. Ronnie quickly (there’s a nice change) realized he couldn’t pick the shovel up to try again as he was now in danger of being bitten. He told me to run to the garage to get another shovel.

Well, I ran. I can’t exactly say where I ran, but I ran fast. Kind of like one of those cartoons that shows the dotted line that is the path a silly character takes to get from point A to B. My line would have charted loops and curves as I apparently forgot where our garage was located.

“MANDY!” Ronnie yelled to refocus me. “The garage! Get the shovel!” That snake was struggling like crazy. He barely had it.

I retrieved the shovel, but then I experienced another problem. I couldn’t physically make myself get close enough to him to hand it to him. I mean, a shovel is what? only five feet long, or so, right? I literally could not force myself to hand it to him.

I was standing about ten feet away, crying, doing this strange kind of dance that I can only really compare to the pee-pee dance I did as a kid when I told my parents I had to go and the next rest area was twenty miles away and when we finally got there all the stalls were full and all the sinks’ faucets were running and there was a rushing waterfall and everyone was chanting “pee-pee-pee-pee-pee….”

Anyways, the snake was fighting, Ronnie was yelling at me, I was dancing, the dog was watching. I finally danced my way over to my husband holding the shovel parallel to the ground with my arm stretched as far as I could reach. Ronnie reached as far as he could while still holding the snake to the ground. He brushed the tip of it a few times with his fingers, and then he finally got it.

As soon as it was in his hands, I bolted.

Ronnie did the deed. No more snake. Once the danger passed, he went from being a little perturbed with me (I still don’t understand why) to laughing hysterically (once again, I don’t get it – we could have died out there!).

In my defense, at least this one was poisonous. That’s not always the case when I freak out over things. Something just happens to me. It’s like I don’t know myself for a moment. There’s just something about snakes…

…and frogs.

 

Roxy the Wonder Dog March 2, 2012

Filed under: family,humor,parenting — mandyholbert @ 5:40 am
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One would think it only fair at least to have a well-behaved dog when blessed with a child that could star in his own comic strip and at age two already give Dennis the Menace a run for his money.  But, no.  I do not have a well-behaved dog.

Well, I used to think I did.

I had sent Kendra to sell cookie dough to the neighbors for her school fundraiser and I gazed out the window and smiled as I watched her walking home down the long picturesque driveway littered with fallen leaves on the beautiful autumn day that is today.  I was cheesing it pretty hard, sitting there thinking how perfect for my kids to be growing up in the country with their trusty dog always following them to watch over and protect them.  I thought of the many memories they would have of traipsing through the woods, shooting things with a sling shot, always followed by their best friend, the dog.  La, la, la, la, and fiddle-dee-dee, what a perfect (almost poetic) moment I was enjoying sitting there looking out my window letting my imagination run wild.

When Kendra got home, I met her at the door and greeted her and Roxy cheerfully.  Did you sell any cookie dough?  “Mom!”  she answered,  “I am so mad!  That dog will never learn.  She disappointed me so much!  She will never learn to stop following me!”  And with that, she burst into tears.

Well, this is certainly not what I had been imagining only moments before.  What’s wrong honey?  What did Roxy do?

Kendra finally managed to tell me in between sobs that when she knocked on our dear neighbor’s door, he opened it, and in ran Roxy, the filthy, stinky, muddy puppy that she is.  Kendra felt it was all her fault.  She was embarrassed and very upset.  I can only imagine what that dumb dog looked like running around my neighbor’s living room with Kendra standing there watching in horror.

I sat calming her telling her Roxy’s just a puppy and will naturally do wrong things; it’s not anyone’s fault, when Ronnie came barrelling in the back door, a teensy bit on the mad side.

“We’re getting rid of that dog!!  Get her locked up right now!  I mean right now!  That stupid dog has trash all over the yard!  She ate Johnny’s cigarettes (Johnny happens to be our kind neighbor who was giving up his Saturday to help Ronnie clear and burn the brush in our woods) and his water bottle!  We are getting rid of her!!”  I nonchalantly tried to ignore the veins pulsing out in his temples and the unusual red hue of his face.

I didn’t think it a good time to tell him why Kendra was crying.

I went outside, locked Roxy up, and cleaned up what remained of the cigarettes, my Crocs, our car-washing mitt, a two-liter bottle, some shredded paper plates, a turtle shell, and other miscellenous items in varying stages of destruction.

I’m sure Roxy was just having an off day.  After all, she’s normally sweet and generally laid back.  Today was no such day.  I don’t really think we’ll have to get rid of her – Ronnie was just a little angry when he said that.

I’m just thankful it was me, and not him, who was barefooted the other morning when she stepped in a fresh pile of dog mess IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DRIVEWAY!!

 

 
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