Ho Ho Holidays

The Christmas season is so busy that it seems like- by the time the stockings are filled and the turkey is in the oven...I realize a gazillion tradition I would've liked to have done with my little family. But didn't.

One new tradition we started- we welcomed an Elf on the Shelf to our family this year. Her name is Ruby. The day she arrived from the North Pole- Little Miss saw a tiny white feather beside her. She decided Aunt Ruby (who has real wings b/c she's an angel now) must've had a hand in the elf finding us. (I cried.) While many elves seemed very energetic at night, according to their human's facebook pages, ours tended to just hop from place to place. I had a heck of a time remembering to "leave the window open" for the Elf...so she could fly in & out. (aheeem) 

On Christmas Eve, in between deep-cleaning the house b/c apparently, I thought Santa was coming to stay-a-while, Little Miss, Mr.B and I baked and decorated cookies. They were delicious...Santa shared.

The morning of the big day- I woke up at 6am. I had butterflies in my belly just like I did when I was a little one. I tip-toed out into the living room and saw what the jolly-ole-elf left for us. I fixed my coffee, put the breakfast casserole into the oven- and snuggled back down in bed. Two hours (TWO HOURS) later, Little Miss woke up...and stumbled into our bedroom. The three of us walked into the living room together & Little Miss was overjoyed with the American Girl accessories Santa left for her & her doll. A few minutes later, my parents arrived with homemade biscuits...and my Christmas was complete. (They were cheese biscuits...mmmm my heart skips a beat just thinking about the little dollops of dough filled with cheese.)

Little Miss shredded through present after present- Barbie, clothes...hmmm- a small box that doesn't rattle? This is probably a boring...IPAD!!?!?? Then she peed a little.

At that point, neither of us cared about any other presents- we just wanted to play with our new toys. We got my parents a Kindle Fire...and my dad (the truck driving, mechanic, who's far from a tech-savvy fella) hasn't put it down yet. He asked me yesterday about Twitter...he wants to sign up. I love it.

Once the presents were opened and it was time to play with our gifts...shockingly, no one wanted a photo. No problem- that's why I have pets...because they're loyal and there for you when you need them. Hmph.

Thanks, Kitties.

I was able to sneak a few of Little Miss...after lying and saying "Noooo I'm not shooting you...I'm shooting this piece of wrapping paper in the floor." (Bedhead documented...sweet!)

And yes...half the lights on our Christmas/Hanukkah tree don't work. It was already decorated...I figured from outside- you can only see half the tree anyway, so I justified my laziness.

Who needs lunch when someone gives you a GIANT chocolate kiss? Yea...eat it, girlfriend.

Later that afternoon, we moseyed over to my parents home to have an early dinner. Santa left a surprise for Little Miss there too!! A kitchen for her "apartment" at Bub & Gran'Dads!!

Christmas spent with family...what more can you ask?

Bedtime Conversations

Our evening routine is one of my favorite parts of the day. Little Miss and I snuggle up together with the iPad and read to each other. Sometimes she reads an entire book, sometimes I do...and sometimes we read together. It's one of the few times throughout the day that there are no 'life' interruptions. We are each other's captive audience.

After reading, we talk about the rose/thorn of our days...which sometimes carries over to random chatter. Recently, Little Miss has attempted to prolong the actual 'sleep' part of our nightly routine, by spouting out bits of information- just as I think she's fallen asleep.

Tiny heart attacks occur with each story...because I think she's asleep until all of a sudden, her head pops up and I hear...

"Keena is older than me. Everyone in my dance class is...except the ones who aren't," she says.
"Oh...okay, well let's go to sleep now."

Minutes pass by. The dog is snoring under my feet.

"Snakes can eat otters...and rats...did you know that-"
I interupt.
"Thats amazing...but it's time for sleep. Thank you for all the information though!"
"Right...love you, Mama!" she says with a kiss, then closes her eyes again.

More time passes. The dog snores louder...one of the animals fart and in the midst of me gasping for air, I hear a whisper.

"The person who plays Avery on 'Dog with a Blog' was on 'Good Luck, Charlie' first...did you know that, Mama?"
"I didn't. But I do know that you are supposed to be sleeping!"

Less than one minute later.

"I can spell olive....................... I just did it in my head."

At this point, I'm trying to fight back the giggles. Quite honestly, Little Miss sounds like she's having a half drunk conversation with herself.

I tell her once again, it's time to stop talking and go to sleep. For the love of worms and dirt, child...aren't you the least bit tired?! More time passes...she's snuggled on my arm and feels like a wet noodle. I'm quite certain she's asleep.

"Do you know what happens after art? ...I don't either."

My eyeballs fall out of my head.

Seconds later, she's snoring.

A Familiar Voice

The night of Little Miss's birthday, we went to our favorite local movie theater to watch Hotel Transylvania. This little theater is one of a kind- you can't possibly spend a twenty dollar bill, no matter how much popcorn and candy you buy. It's amazing.

About five minutes into the movie, Little Miss turned to me and motioned for me to lean to her.

"Mama...is Gran'Pa Braunstein an actor now?!" she whispered with excitement.

"No, sweetie- I don't think so...why?" I asked.

"Because...I think he is! I think he has to be the voice of Dracula!!" she said.

I didn't argue. I watched her as she proudly watched the rest of the movie, positive that her grandfather (who is originally from Romania) was the voice of a character in her new favorite movie.

The next day, she decided to dress as Mavis, Dracula's daughter, for Halloween. She loves her Gran'Pa. ;-)

What Does Gay Mean?

"Mama, what does gay mean?" asked Little Miss, while we watched television tonight.

"It's when boys date other boys, instead of girls- or when girls date other girls, instead of boys," I said, all while questioning if this was the politically correct answer to the question.

I mean, is there a politically correct answer?

On this election day, I couldn't help but take the words "politically correct" literally. Politicians are constantly trying to take rights away from gay people...so why would I want to be politically correct while defining something that is important to me, to my daughter? President Obama is for same sex marriage...while Governor Romney is very much against it. In the split second between my response and Little Miss's reply, I wondered...will she ever see an America where same sex marriage is recognized legally?

"Oh. Okay. Well, Alonso is my boyfriend- so I guess I'm not gay. But it's fine if my friends are!" she said.

I smiled so big it hurt my face. If only adults could take advice from the younger generation...I'm not gay. But it's fine if my friends are.

First Field Trip

Little Miss had her first field trip this week. Naturally, I was nervous about it...because that's what I do- I worry. I'd considered not attending the first trip- because it was right here in town...and it would be good for her to spread her wings...yadda yadda...then I decided I was thinking irrationally and definitely needed to chaperone.

The kindergarteners took the activity bus over to the Island Farm...which was a much bigger deal than the field trip itself. Who doesn't love a bus ride?! Little Miss was thrilled to tell me all about it when we met at the welcome center of the farm. 

Sidenote: Parents had to pay separately. I had prepared for this & stuck cash in my purse. But apparently they only take correct change!? Um, really? No change for a $20!? What's a girl to do?

We've visited the Island Farm on several occasions. Little Miss enjoys it...but the chickens and roosters always freak her out. They are very social and will trot right over to you! (And I mean, step-on-your-toes, right over to you!) Maybe she is sensing my nervousness around them. When I was little, we had a duck named Peaches. (Yes, I named her. She was my easter present.) Peaches was evil. She had no idea she was a duck, she was quite sure she was a guard dog, of sorts. She would chase people out of our yard- and if you weren't quick enough, she'd bite you...and draw blood. So I'm always kind of leery around big birds...they're kind of gangster, you know?

Baby Lilly didn't mind the chickens.

After a presentation by a man who was slightly less friendly than the chickens/roosters he was discussing, the kiddos were allowed to pet a hen. Little Miss looked on as her friends and teachers touched her...while she kept her hands firmly placed in her lap. 

For the last few weeks, Little Miss has been telling me about her 'boyfriend' Alonso. I met the little fella yesterday and can tell he's quite smitten with her. He stuck right to her during the whole trip. She got a little embarrassed when I asked to take a photo of the two of them. Can you tell?

After chowing down on some squished PB&J, Little Miss climbed back onto the bus and went back to school. I followed the bus and honked like a maniac when they turned back into her school. That's right...I'm that mom.

Fall

Fall has fallen, once again. The air is crisp and my bones...they are a'achin'.

This is my favorite time of year. Work has slowed down just enough for me to take a deep breath and be thankful for all we have. Little Miss is thrilled b/c its finally cool enough for her to wear her new red boots that she purchased back in August. (Don't let her fool you though, she's already worn them. She sweat so much in them I had to air them out in the yard!)

Listening to Little Miss's daily ramblings from her school day is fascinating. Today, she came home with riveting tales about fire safety. She sat with me and filled out a fire safety information worksheet that she received from a firefighter, visiting her school. She then belted out to a "stop, drop, roll" tune that I wish I could've rocked out to when I was her age. She was also excited to inform me that she moved her "clippy" to purple today. (This is a big deal.) She was able to move her clippy up from green to blue, then on to purple because helped a classmate and then used her manners!!

Along with changing seasons and school schedules comes sniffles. Little Miss has had puffy eyes and a stuffy nose for the last few days. While it hasn't slowed her down much, by bedtime she can hardly hold her eyes open to read a book.

The homecoming parade Tristan and I rode in was the first big event in my 10 year high school reunion weekend. (Partially the reason I decided to test out the parade in the first place!) For a few months, I have toyed with the idea of going- but never could exactly pinpoint why I wanted to. In the day and age of social media, face to face reunions seem like a dying breed. Not to mention the small town most of us still live in...I run into more classmates at the Piggly Wiggly on any given day than at an actual reunion.

It took Little Miss and her puffy eyes to finalize my decision on going vs. not going. She wanted to snuggle with her mama...and that was all it took for me to forget all about the reunion.

I didn't feel like I missed out on a thing...I'm not much for talking about myself and my life anyway. I mean, isn't that why I have a blog? ;-)

Tiny Dancer

A few weeks ago, Little Miss began dance class again. It's her third go-'round in ballerina training and she absolutely loves every second of it. I got to sneak into her class this week to snap a few photos...you know, because I'm that mom. The one who's like "You won't even know I'm here! Click, click...can we turn the lights up a bit? How about this shade? Can we raise it?"

That's a lie...I really was quiet- and I think most of the tiny ballerinas forgot I was there and those who didn't just smiled extra big every time they caught my camera's eye.

It was fun to see Little Miss in her dance element. She's shyer than I imagined...and very no-nonsense. To love the class as much as she does, I only caught her smiling once or twice. Homegirl had her game face on.

I never took dance growing up...because I have two left feet and couldn't dance if my life depended on it. That said- most dance-days when Little Miss tells me what she's learned, I smile and say how proud I am...then google whatever she has said. I've learned a lot of fun words and since I became a "ballet class crasher" the other day, I can now put those words to better use.


(Yes, she has a tattoo on her arm. That's how she rolls.)

Lean with it...rock with it...what? That's not the song...oh. Right..and I'm supposed to be quiet. Right, right.

Little Miss getting a little extra help from her newest teacher, Miss Bri.




After my "class crash" I kind of want to join dance, myself..Ms. Lisa? Miss Bri? I think I'd probably work well at the preschool level...is there a spot for me? My slippers are ready! ;-)

Nail Polish & Roses

Sometimes, you just need a little pampering with your 'sister from another mister'...I swear, sometimes nail polish will fix what ails ya. Little Miss and I spent the day with my "turtle" sissy, her broken back and her precious 1 year old little girl. It was a total "girlie" day complete with a photo shoot and bubbly pedicures. (Sidenote: nail polish remover will win in a battle against a kitchen table.)

Little Miss loves hanging with younger pals, like little Gracie. So much so, that tonight when we discussed our rose and thorn of our day- she said her rose was spending the day with Gracie...and her thorn? Having to leave Gracie. Is your heart melting? Mine did...my rose instantly became hearing about her rose/thorn!

A few nights ago, I mentioned I'd extended an olive branch to a few special family members my heart has been missing. While I was prepared for any outcome, I received emails and calls from them that were filled with love, thankfulness and excitement. I was a total sap and cried when I read their messages. We all agreed that we could focus on making new memories, remembering happy past ones...and close the chapter (that didn't directly involve us) of negativity.

I would have to say reuniting with family and learning about their current lives, even through calls/emails, was the rose of my week. And my thorn? Well...I can't say I have one.

Family

Family. They can drive you crazy. They can hold you when you cry. They can make you laugh until your sides hurt. They can hurt you- and because they're family, you forgive them.

All families have their issues. They have arguments and go through periods of time where they don't speak. But the thing with family is that nothing will ever change the fact that you are that...you are family. We stand by our family...which can make arguments among family members difficult for innocent bystanders. While we want to stand by and support those in the 'ring'...we want to be able to continue our own bonds, as well.

I decided today that life is too short for rifts, arguments and silence. Before we know it, the chance to call & say "Hey...this is out of hand- let's fix it and make happy memories" will be gone. Reminiscing about past memories together, won't be possible. Sharing those memories with the younger generations will be lost in the shuffle of an argument that grew faster and larger than a crop smothered with miracle grow. An argument that began so long ago...we're all thinking "wait...what is it we're fighting for, again?"

So today...I reached out to family members I haven't spoken to since Little Miss was a wee-one. I put myself in the position to get rejected- to have my olive branch swatted right back at me. I opened my arms (via facebook- it's not just for cyber bullies!) and my heart to my family...because I felt in my heart, it was what I needed to do. For me, selfishly...just for me. Even if the olive brach is swatted away, I won't harbor ill feelings. I will know I did what I needed (for me) to heal my own heart.


But coffee, memory sharing and kids playing in the near-future sure would be nice. ;-)

Bullies

Bullies. Whether we were being bullied or doing the bullying, we all have a memory from our childhood involving a bully.

When Little Miss started preschool, one of the first questions I asked was if she could name the "bully" kid in her classroom. For the first year, she wasn't sure exactly what that meant. Last year, the definition became more clear to her. There was a bully in her classroom who bullied everyone, including the teachers, but not her. Why? I have absolutely no idea. (Maybe he heard she was from Brooklyn? That her daddy is a rapper? That her grandaddy has guns? Who knows.) She would tell me the tales of what the bully had done each day...and would end her story with an I'm glad he's not mean to me! I was too.

Now she's in the "big" school...with lots of bigger kids. I had the same fears that I had when she began preschool regarding bullies. What if someone picks on her? Will she know how to handle it? Will she tell her teacher? Last week, she came home with a bully tale from the playground. Apparently, a little boy came up to Little Miss and her gal-pals and attempted to bully them. I have yet to get the straights out of what said bully did exactly, but supposedly it ended with Little Miss smacking him, knocking him down and her best friend kicking him. The girls were caught by a teacher & reprimanded...until they explained to the teacher they were "handling a bully" situation. The teacher told them, for future reference, calling over a teacher would be the best way to handle a bully situation.
I was proud that Little Miss handled her own against a bully...even if she did handle it to the extreme. (She's her father's daughter...what can I say?)

The scary thing about bullies is that with social media- they now have a voice like never before. No matter what age you are...if you piss someone off- look the wrong way or just simply, aren't friends with this-one or that-one...cyber bullies will be all over you. They'll so bravely write about you from their homes...hiding behind their computers. (Sometimes without even saying your name.) I can laugh at this...because I'm a grown up. But I can absolutely see how so many young teens have been pushed over the edge by cyber bullies. It is SO sad.

Teach your kiddos to be kind...lend a helping hand...smile at their school mates. And I will try to teach mine not to smack the next bully who walks her way...;-)

Arguing

Ask anyone. I can argue until the cows come home. I never tire or weaken my argument...I only grow stronger. I can argue until my opposer tosses their hands in the air in frustration and gives up...then I will consider arguing the point of why it took us so long to realize I'm.Always.Right.

Ask my friends...ask my mom...ask the man at the grocery store who attempted to tell me there was no banana yogurt in the box he was stocking the refrigerated shelves with- I will win. (And I'll win with yogurt!)

That being said...while arguing doesn't typically phase me- arguing with a tiny clone of myself, does. Little Miss doesn't choose her battles...she clearly wants to challenge the man at the grocery store who seems to think her mother is an arguing maniac. She thinks I'm a wimp. She sees my skills and throws fire on them. She will argue over any.thing.

I remember my first argument with my mother. (Well, it may not have been the first argument with her- but it was the first time I realllly pissed her off during an argument.) I want to say I was in first grade...and I believe the argument was over something silly like brushing my teeth.

Silly little argument...mmhmm, you're now rounding the bend to bite me in the arse, eh? I see ya. Oh and Hello, Karma...glad you could join us too.

School mornings begin with sweet cuddles from Little Miss in her bed. We get the clothes down that we've picked out from the night before...and it starts.

"These socks don't match!" Little Miss demands.

"They're pink. You're wearing pink...it matches," I respond.

"It's not the same pink!"

"Well, it coordinates...come on- lets go brush you're hair, monkey."

"I am changing my socks! These look horrible!"

I consider swapping coffee for wine...but know I'll never pull it off.

We argue over the color of the socks back and forth until finally...she decides she will just wear shoes that cover the socks. (While cursing me and calling me color blind in her head, I'm sure.)

In a few short moments, we're out the door and on our way to school. Hugs and kisses commence and before I know it- my little girl is sitting in a classroom full of kindergarteners and I'm? Crying in my truck because we fought over socks. SOCKS.

I argue with myself in my head...I should've just let her change & not argued. But what is that teaching her? That she can spend 30 minutes changing socks in the morning before school to find the perfect color hue to match her shirt? Doesn't that just promote child OCDs? Is that even a thing?

The afternoon rolls around and Little Miss bounds into the truck like a kitten with a ball of yarn. She's thrilled to see me and tell me all about her day. I'm thrilled to hear about every tiny detail. (Even the day she apparently beat up a boy on the playground for being a bully. Thats a post in itself.)

We get home and begin homework. Yes, kindergarteners have homework too...and since Little Miss went to preschool for 3 years- it should be a breeze for her, right?

We begin with a name-writing worksheet. I think it will be a piece of cake because...again, she was in preschool- homegirl can write her name with her eyes closed. But now, she is asked to write the letters a certain way- not just to make them look like letters.

"I can write them however...it looks the same," she tells me.

"Well, your teachers are suggesting we practice doing it this way- so we can-"

"They hate my handwriting! I want to write it my way! The way I have always done it!" she interrupts.

She's slightly more dramatic than I am. She goes from zero to hysterical in less than 2 seconds.

We work with the letter y...since it is in her name. We practice over and over...and finally, she stops arguing, opens her brain and realizes it's not difficult. But you have to try...

So our days in the B home have been a little trying. But we will get through it because clearly...we're fighters. ;-)

The Big K

Today, my little girl...my baby...the one I feel like I just yesterday gave birth to...starts kindergarten.

She is so excited. We met her teacher this week and discussed the business of the big K- which in kindergarten, consists of a lot of eating, snacking then getting home safe. These were my main concerns- what if she can't open her yogurt? will she starve? what if her water bottle top gets screwed on to tight & she can't open it!? WHO WILL HELP HER!?! Seriously, these thoughts were going through my mind.

I felt much better after chatting with her teaching duo. They assured me they'd help her with her lunch and make sure she got to me safely in the afternoon. They also promised that in a few weeks, she'd be able to walk herself into the classroom from the curb. I may or may not have looked at them in absolute horror. By herself?! Walk into the school...alone?! I know there will be other adult teachers and the principal will be standing right there by the big doors but...seriously?!? ALONE!? I felt like I needed to find a paper bag to breathe into.

While I was getting all the business explained to me, Little Miss explored the classroom. By the time I was finished, she was ready to spend the day. This also put my mind at ease. (Something else that puts my mind at ease? Her assistant teacher has known me since I was a wee-one...she babysat me. Love me a small town!!)

Little Miss can't wait to begin her real first day...and I'm excited to hear all about it! :-) Oh, and did I mention her BFF is in her class!? She is. We're super excited about that too!

RE: A comment on the Chick-Fil-A Post

A few days ago, I shared my opinion on the Chick-Fil-A topic. I received many comments via Facebook, email and directly onto my blog page. My blog is set so I have to approve all my comments- and I was taken aback when I read the following, posted by an 'anonymous' person.

Anonymous has left a new comment on your post "Chick-Fil-A": 

I think a business can support who they want...to each his own. Many (most) support gay rights, so in my opinion, Chick-fil-a definitely has a right to support causes that they believe in. They were exercising their 1st amendment right, as do MANY gays parading their homosexuality for the world to see. Chick-fil-a's leader was asked a question and he simply answered it. He didn't volunteer it and he doesn't hate gays. I don't get the uproar. Christians are called bigots all the time, when in fact, it's usually the non-Christians...it can work both ways. I personally am against homosexual relations. I am a Bible-believer, but I definitely wouldn't ban a restaurant for their support of gay rights because I do not hate gays (or other races for that matter)... I will still eat their food, but I don't have to believe as they do. My brother is homosexual; that doesn't change my love for him or his lover, but God takes care of His own. Chick-fil-a is VERY successful and I believe that they always will be because they stand for something. 

I'm honestly, not sure where to begin. I didn't post the comment below my original post because I felt the need to address it...particularly because it was posted anonymously onto my family blog- who few have the address to.

Yes, Chick-Fil-A absolutely has the right to support any cause they choose. Just as they have the right to express their opinions and beliefs, I have a right to choose not to spend money in their establishments. My choosing not to eat there chicken is no different than me choosing not to support Michael Vick's clothing line. I'm not going to fund something I don't agree with...and although the subject matter between Michael Vick & Chick-Fil-A differ, the principle does not. If I'm aware that the money I spend on an item will trickle on to support a cause that I do not support, I'm not going to purchase said item. It turns me off to the entire company. 

Gays parading their homosexuality for the world to see? Do they parade it? I live in North Carolina, so maybe I'm a bit sheltered. However, the last time I was in NYC or LA, I'm pretty sure I didn't see homosexuals having sex on the sidewalk...or heterosexuals, for that matter. How else would they 'parade' their homosexuality, as you said? I guess I parade my green eyes and pale skin- since that is something I was born with...just as homosexuals are born homosexuals. 

A bigot, as defined by Websters is a person who is obstinately or intolerantly devoted to his or her own opinions and prejudices; especially : one who regards or treats the members of a group (as a racial or ethnic group) with hatred and intolerance. I'm having a hard saying your comment doesn't define bigotry just as well as Websters dictionary. 

Chick-Fil-A will continue to be successful because that serve amazing fried chicken sandwiches. In six months, many fairwhether arguers will have forgotten this whole topic and will eat their chicken meals and laugh at the silly cows holding the 'eat more chicken' signs. I'm like an elephant though...some things I just don't forget.

Chick-Fil-A

I know I'm probably not supposed to share about this topic...because I'm a small-town business owner. If you share your opinions, people who don't agree with you will boycott your business. Right? Oh wait, that doesn't just happen in small towns anymore because the internet makes everywhere a small town.

The Chick-Fil-A issue. (In case you haven't heard, they donated upwards of $2 million to antigay groups in just one year. I'd say that is taking a stand against same-sex lifestyle, wouldn't you?) Now, that statement makes me cringe. And I bet at this point, you have no idea which statement I'm talking about, do you?

The fact that a large company, such as Chick-Fil-A, would donate money to support a group that is against an entire lifestyle. A way of life that really, when you get down to it, has not a damn thing to do with them. If you don't agree with same-sex marriage...then choose to marry a spouse of the opposite sex and let those who choose to marry someone of the same sex live...happily. They also support groups who are against couples (of opposite and same sex) who choose not to marry. It offends them that people can live together happily without getting married...even though, again- it has not a damn thing to do with them. I'm wondering when they're going to be against roommates too. 

It's not about boycotting a business, small or large, because of one man's (or woman's) opinion. It is about that business sending a portion of their profits to groups that I do not support. (So in a round-about-way...my $5 is passing through the clerk's hands and into the treasurer at an antigay group.) I'm not saying that I'm boycotting Chick-Fil-A on purpose. It's not necessarily a total conscious thought on my part...I just all of a sudden, don't want chicken. I want a steak. ;-)

Katie's Firecracker

The barn Tristan (AKA: Whitey, 'Nilla Ice, etc.) is affiliated with the Corolla Wild Horse Association. There are lots of former beach babies at the barn and last week- a new duo was trailered over from the beach. Unfortunately, the mother of the duo was ill and passed away shortly after she arrived. But little Firecracker is adjusting pretty well. Meet the little guy...

 He likes to be scratched...

And give kisses....

Little Miss got to join in on the fun...with caution, of course.

KISSES!!

Quick...imitate the adorable itchy face!

 

Introducing....

Like I said in my previous post...you can never replace a horse. With each horse, the mold is broken- they all have their personality quirks and different ways of loving you....just as you do with them.

I knew deep in my heart months ago that I would have to let Broadway go. I found myself looking online at available horses for sale and thinking, wishing that I could go on trail rides with Broadway. I'd look through the ads, picture myself on a ride with my cowgirl friends...get frustrated and go to the barn to soak hooves or administer pain medication. I mourned Broadway so much while he was still alive and in pain, that when we said our goodbyes...it was healing in a way.

A few days after his passing, the cowgirl warriors started finding amazing horses for me to try. And when I say warriors, I mean they were sending ads from all over the damn place...horses that seemed so perfect. Even though I knew not to get too excited...not to get my hopes up b/c most people who sell horses are bat-shit-crazy (think backyard car dealer)...I couldn't help myself. I'd read each listing and picture myself on that horse- but now when I pictured myself on another horse, it was just excitement that I felt in the pit of my stomach- not dread or frustration like before.

Early in the morning, the day before I met my new horse...I received an email with a link to an ad on craigslist in the Lynchburg area. My best cowgirl warrior, my sistah, Danielle, said only "CALL THIS ONE ABOUT THE HEIGHT!!"

I wiped the sleep from my eyes and looked at the ad.

"It's a CREMELLO PAINT!? WITH BLUE EYES!?!" I said out loud.

I immediately texted the seller...and we texted literally all day long.

At 4:30am the next morning, I jumped out of bed and rushed out the door to hook up my horse trailer. I sweated gallons hooking it up, but the heat was the last thing on my mind. I felt like I did on Christmas morning when I got my first horse. The excitement was uncontainable.

I picked up Danielle and her daughter an hour and a half later and we began our almost 6 hour trip to test out the craigslist cremello. My nerves were all over the place- I was excited, nervous and terrified. I've bought horses and been totally burned by the sellers...I've done the crazy-horse-that-tried-to-kill-me thing. I just want sane...and well, pretty. My mom's words rang in my head, "Be picky...there is no hurry." 

We arrived at the barn at high noon...and 145 degrees. (OH! And one of my favorite parts to this story- my cousin lives like 5 minutes down the road from the barn! So she came with us!!)

So yes...high noon, hot as hell. We all introduce ourselves and I see him. He nuzzles my hand and I quietly tell my heart to be still. We walk down the mountain (ok, it's more like a small hill- but I'm a flatlander) to a small ring and I watch the owner ride him....then I ride him. The smile on my face widens. My heart is not listening to me tell it to be still. Not. At. All.

"Do you want to go out on a little trail ride?" the owner asks.

"YES!" Danielle's daughter and I answer at the same time.

The owner laughs and grabs an extra horse...and we ride off into the most gorgeous countryside I've ever seen. Rolling hills of clover...that I slowly cantered over on the horse that my heart was quite quickly falling in love with.

We arrived back to the barn and discussed the "biznas" part of the trip. The owner agreed that if after two weeks I'd found any issues with him, that I could return him for a full refund. I'd only known him a few hours and I already couldn't imagine what I'd do if I had to return him. I handed her a white envelope, Sopranos style, bubble wrapped my new baby...and off we went. Well...almost.

Meet Tristan, 5 y/o...clearly both him & I needed some purple shampoo to rinse the yeller'out. (His previous owner was so sad to see him go.)

I probably would've ridden him home if it wasn't 145 degrees out...not gonna lie. I was so thrilled...more thrilled than a child on Christmas. BUT- I had the looming vet visit hanging over me...and on the long drive home- the 'what ifs' played through my mind.

Thankfully, that was a big ole waste of time! The vet came out & said Tristan is a healthy boy! AND HE'S OFFICIALLY MINE!!!!

Tristan has many AKAs thus far: 

Vanilla Ice (are you singing the song now? Stop. Collaborate...)

Pretty Fly for a White Guy

The list goes on...but I don't want to offend white rappers whose name I may or may not call my horse. However, pretty much any white rapper joke that can be told, I tell him. On a daily basis. I mean...he's in a white rapper family- it's just unavoidable. Sometimes he jumps around...while I tell him jokes. (badumchi)

We've switched things around a little...and Tristan will be living at a boarding facility instead of at my parents. As strong as I try to be, there are too many 'horses from the past' memories there and I am ready to have a fresh start. I'm thrilled with my new boy...did I mention that?

I'm thrilled. ;-)

The Hardest Day In A Cowgirls Life

Not much phases cowgirls. They see it all. They feed early in the morning and late at night, they muck stalls and horse manure is the least thing that would make them turn their nose up. Cowgirls spend sleepless nights doctoring sick horses...or worrying about what they can do to 'fix' an injury.

Staying on a horse isn't what makes you a cowgirl- caring for your mount is what makes you a cowgirl. The hours spent in the barn out of the saddle...that is what makes you a cowgirl.

A cowgirls job isn't an easy one...but you'll rarely hear a complaint. There is only one moment in a cowgirls life that she'll admit is hard...and she will cry on that day. She won't hide her tears on that day because nothing else matters to her...on that day. The day she loses her horse.

On Monday, I had to say goodbye to Broadway. He had yet another abscess in his hoof and was no longer walking. He would lay in the pasture and grind his teeth from the pain. I laid in the sand with him as he shook. I watched and calmed him as he had the equivalent to a seizure...multiple times. 

I made the call to the vet to have him put down. The hardest decision in a cowgirls life. I felt like a failure. I worked so hard to get him healthy...to "save" him. My heart ached as I helplessly stroked his face. 

"I'm sorry I couldn't do what I promised I'd do for you, buddy...I'm sorry I couldn't make it better," I whispered to him, tears rolling down my face and onto his nose.

He lifted his head and placed his nose into my lap. He nuzzled me with his ears forward. At that moment a calmness came over me. I knew I was doing what I'd promised him- I was going to take the pain away from him. I wasn't going to selfishly keep him on Earth for me. He wasn't passing away in a pasture alone- from malnutrition and God knows what else. No, I decided a year and a half ago that wasn't going to happen. He spent his last year and a half here in a loving environment- with so much love from so many people.  He was going to pass peacefully...and I knew I'd done exactly what I'd promised.

After he was gone, I stayed in the pasture with his shell. His spirit was gone- but his body was waiting to be buried. The friend who kindly came to bury him with his tractor begged me to go inside.

"Please, Eden...you don't want to watch this now. Please go inside," he said.

"No, I'm not leaving him. I haven't left him for a year and a half and I'm not going now," I said.

He knew there was no use arguing. I watched his burial and the tears slowed. My dad stood with me- tears streamed down his face.

"This hurts so bad...it makes it- it makes you not want to start over with another one because of how this hurts," he said.

"No...no no. They give you enough love when they're with you- they fill your heart with so much love and joy that it carries over. It makes you strong enough to start over with another," I explained.

He nodded.

There will never be a replacement. There wasn't a replacement for Sham when I lost her at 9 years old- there wasn't a replacement for Brandy when I lost him at 16. There are wonderful memories and knowledge that carries over...things that you see in another horse that remind you of all the good from your previous love. But never a replacement. 

Broadway - I will miss your kind eye and sweet nature. I will miss the way you used to peep at me through the gate...just like Brandy did when I was little. I will miss the hours we spent together every day. Little Miss says you have wings now- so I don't have to worry that you're hurting anymore. She is so wise, isn't she? Thank you for all the joy you brought to me and my family. We will always miss you.

Dear Little Miss: Graduation

Dear Little Miss,

Tonight, you'll put on your white cap and gown. You'll stand up in front of a room full of (mostly) strangers and read a book, all by yourself. You'll walk across the stage and take your diploma from your teachers...and you'll graduate preschool.

I can't believe this day is already here. It really seems like just yesterday that I nervously called your preschool for the first time- shortly after we moved from Brooklyn to Kill Devil Hills. I was comforted by a very kind voice, who answered all my questions...and I knew this was the place for us- for you. I knew they would prepare you for kindergarten- but would hold you and hug you when you needed to be a baby, even just for a moment. That's exactly what we've seen over the last 3 years...love, kindness, teaching, and did I mention love?

I remember your first day- it wasn't the first day of the school year...which made it a little more difficult on us both. All the other kids knew each other, as did all the other parents- we were the new kids on the block. Your teachers held us both when we had tough mornings. As confident as you were at home, you were very shy and quiet at school. You refused to eat snack or even drink water with your classmates.

Your next year of preschool began with extreme excitement because...we could walk to school! You were welcomed by friends from your previous year of school. Some of the same anxieties were there for both of us- but the familiar faces, room and routine helped us hug and kiss goodbye. This year I saw you grow into your own little person more than ever before. You had your own little crew of friends to pal around with- but if I was around, you'd still rather hang with me. You began accomplishing morning table work with minimal help from me and your teachers. You had your first 'time out' in school this year- for throwing a dollhouse at a little girl who is now one of your good friends. 

This year, your first day of school was all excitement- and not just because we could walk to school. You were excited to learn. You were excited to see your friends- many of which you'd been in school with for the last few years- but some you'd met in other activities outside of school. You were excited to show me what you could do with your table work- and this time, you didn't need my help at all. You grabbed the paint brush and painted that big A like you'd been dreaming about it. You wrote your name on your own and moved on to the next table...with your best friend at your side.

This year I've watched you do so many firsts. We went on your first field trip to Disney On Ice and to the Norfolk Zoo. We had many play-dates in the afternoon with your friends...who (thankfully) have amazing moms who I now call my best friends. Your personality has flourished. You are secure in your own skin and the confidence you have behind a microphone is baffling to me. You have the most hilarious sense of humor...and a bit of a diva attitude. (Okay, so you make JLo look like Laura Ingells.)  You even decided who you plan to marry- and I am pretty sure you even have a few back ups, just in case.

Don't rush life, little one...you have so much to enjoy ahead of you. You're going to learn so many new things at your new school- and in time, you'll be just as comfortable there as you were at your preschool. Keep your strong will and don't ever let anyone tell you that you can't do something...you can do anything you put your mind to- and if you ever don't feel comfortable doing something, use that same strong will to say no.

You're my everything. I'm so proud of you every second of every day...but today- I'm overflowing with pride and joy.

I love you with all my heart.

-Mama

Tiny Dancer

Every Monday since the fall, Little Miss has joined the girls at Dare County Parks & Rec for dance practice. They have tapped and ballet'd and plea- um, well- you get the idea. Since the first day of practice this year, Little Miss has asked when- oh, when- will her dance recital be?! How much longer?

She was ready to jump up on the stage and dance her toes off. Stage fright? Pah-lease. 

Last year, her Bub stayed in the backstage area with her- but this year, Little Miss hung out with her girls and the backstage-mom all by herself. (This may not seem like a lot- but these little girls, with the help of the backstage mama/saint, have to change into a whole new outfit...and quickly.)

After lots of kisses were exchanged, I made my way out to the auditorium to find a seat. (Okay, I cried a little too.)

Raindrops are falling on my head!!

My little ballerina!

Next year, Little Miss has decided she'd like to learn some hiphop dance routines. She's ready for her official b-girl status. Yo yo yo...whaaad uuuup ;-)

A ZOO of a Post!

As I mentioned in the mini post...we went to the zoo last week with Little Miss's preschool class. This is the first year we've been able to join in on the big, end-of-the-year trip and I we were so excited!!

We've visited zoos all over the country- and I have to say...the Norfolk Zoo is incredible. Each exhibit is so well cared for- the animals all seem happy and content. It was such a pleasure to spend the day there! (Seriously, the Bronx Zoo could take some serious pointers.)

Little Miss & some of her favorite people.

Our animal friends...you know I had a hard time not busting these guys out of their cages. Next time, I'm bringing wire-cutters in the camera bag. I couldn't help but feel sad for these animals- as happy and content as they seemed, they're in cages. This is not how they're supposed to be living. As much as I enjoyed being able to see them up close and show Little Miss up close- it broke my heart for them.

Papa Orangoutang...hiding his sweet face.

On our way out, we had to stop and have a Tyra moment. Little Miss loves America's Next Top Model. This was totally unprompted...and she did these poses herself.

We were so excited for Bub to join us on our trip! The plan was- zoo, grab lunch quick, pick up hay and rush back to get Little Miss to dance rehearsal on time. Sounds totally do-able right? Mmhmm.

We leave the zoo with plenty of time to grab lunch and the hay, as planned. We arrive at the hay spot- get the hay loaded when the lil feller who loads the hay says..."Oh, can I put these last three on the top if I tie them?" 

Let me paint the picture for you- there are two layers of hay in the back of my truck already, so these three bales will be teetering on the top, slightly above the cab of the truck. Picture painted? Alrighty.

Seeing as there was a chance of rain, I suggested we tie the bales together and add a tarp into the mix. (Because surely if we tarp it, it's definitely not going to rain!) Homeboy starts telling me about his super cool beach house he (ahem, his parents b/c he's all of 17) owns near me...and how he just came down last weekend to mow the yard...etc, etc. This is when I begin to get concerned because there needed to be less talking and more securing the mother-loving hay. (Note to self: stop picking up hay alone. Teach husband how to speak cowboy & make him deal with hay people.)

We barely get out of the long, winding drive of the hay spot before the tarp flies off. Seriously, my truck looked like it was skydiving...that tarp took flight, parachute style. I rip the tarp off...tell Little Miss to cover her ears & hoist myself up onto the top layer of the hay to make sure the three bales I was assured were tied together, were indeed tied together. There weren't. Sweet! I tie the two (70lb) outer bales together- because surely if the outer two are tied together they'll all stay up there, right? 

We made it about half way home and are cruising along at 55mph on a straight away when the two bales that were tied together took flight. Thankfully there was no one behind us. Did I mention it was a little windy? Like blowing 25-30? 

I see where the bales landed and decide that it's too dangerous for me to stop in the middle of four lanes of traffic to move them. (One made it to the side of the road, the other was closer to the center lane...but it's a freaking bale of hay- how can you miss it?!)

Then I see blue lights...for the love of worms and dirt, seriously!?!? Now we're definitely going to be late to dance. (*#^%(*@&(%&*!!!

I scramble for my license and registration.

"Hi ma'am, did you lose some hay?" the officer asks.

"Hi sir! Um...did I?!?" (I know...totally playing up the sweet, stupid, southern blonde. Big smile, big accent.)

"Well, I think it might've been you? If you want to pick them up, I will stop traffic for you. Otherwise, you can just be on your way. No harm done."

"Oh...okay, well if I won't get in trouble for not going back- I'm going to head on home," I explain and tell him my daughter has dance to get to.

Off we go, again.

Not five minutes later a red truck driven by an asshole who I'm sure was from Maryland, motions for me to roll my window down.

"You lost some hay back there...and you caused a huge accident!! There are ambulances and fire trucks!" he says in his most 'tough guy' voice.

My blood boils. I know this is a total lie b/c I'd just talked to the State Trooper. 

I took my one hand off the wheel and did my very best to put my finger in his face- which was difficult to do seeing as he was in his car and I was in mine...but it needed to be done.

"NUH UH sir...that's a TOTAL lie. I just spoke to the state trooper and there was NO accident and NO one got hurt." (I was so upset Little Miss didn't have her headphones on or he wouldn't gotten a MUCH more involved response.)

He rolled his window up immediately. Apparently my hay was covering up my "I don't take shit from anyone" bumper sticker. Who does that!? Who makes up a total lie just to scare the shit out of someone...a total stranger at that? My mom, who was in the passenger seat, didn't say a word. Asshole-from-Maryland is so very lucky she was riding shotgun and not my husband.

So that was the end to the day. Little Miss made it to dance a little late- but she made it. And the rest of the hay made it home safe.

All Sorts of Crazy

Tis the season...for what? You might ask. Well apparently, tis the season for hysterical meltdowns, that's what. I'm going to tell you a little story about the day I made just about anyone and everyone I encountered super uncomfortable.

It's May- which is the end of Little Miss's career as a preschooler. It seems like just yesterday I made the phone call to get her enrolled just after her 3rd birthday. On this particular morning, I was shooting her preschool's graduation photos...with...their...caps and gowns. (Is anyone else already tearing up? Just me?) I handled it relatively well until I saw my little preschooler in her cap and gown. Her entire school career flashed before my eyes and I saw her walking across the stage at Waterside Theater- just as I did when I graduated high school. (It didn't help that we were shooting the photos right next to Waterside Theater. Brilliant idea, photographer.) I put my sunglasses on and managed to keep it together enough that I don't think anyone realized I was totally losing my shit. After individual pictures, the class went back to school to get ready for the big group shot and I ran up to the barn to give Broadway his breakfast.

We all know what an animal fruit loop I am, right? It's been discussed? I have a lot of animals and treat them all like they're less furry and have two legs? Yea, that's pretty much it.

Broadway has been moving considerably better since he got his Christian Louboutin's on his feet. (That's what I call his fancy heart bar shoes.) I was thrilled to see his progress- he was no longer just standing out in the pasture, he was on the move! However, on this particular morning he wasn't his new-self...he was back to his old, 'I'm hurting, Fix it for me' self. He was propping his leg out and practically pointing to his hoof. I know this may seem expected- and I should've expected it. Broadway went from practically lame to "healed" in a matter of days. Why wouldn't I expect a setback or two? Because I don't want setbacks- I don't want it to take weeks- I want him fixed NOW. He's been through so very much- from weight issues to an issue that only geldings can suffer from that I won't go into details with on my blog, to arthritis issues, to hoof issues...and now more? Seriously, how much more can we go through? 

I sat down in the dirt and cried. I cried because I couldn't fix him. I cried because of all he's been through. I cried because I was terrified that this was it. This was going to be the one thing I couldn't fix...and I was going to lose him. Yes, I went there. A leg prop and sad eyes took me to that place. I was certain this was the end.

I pulled myself together and headed off to do the preschool group photo. I couldn't tell anyone why my makeup was smudged all over my face- I could't find the words to say it out loud. The only thing I could manage to find were tears. 

In between the group photo and pickup time, I read my friend Laura's blog. Escaping into someone else's world was just what the doctor ordered. I read this post and laughed so hard it dried my tears. (Thank you, Laura for spraying your husband in the mouth with a water hose.)

I thought I was starting to feel okay. I'd left a message with the vet and the tech I spoke with felt like Broadway was having a normal setback and everything was probably fine. (But she thought I needed to be on medication- because you know, I cried when I told her what was happening with him.) I "cowgirl'd up" and went inside to get Little Miss....totally avoiding eye contact with everyone and managed to make it back to the car without crying. Sweet.

Then the phone rang. It was one of my favorite people- another mom of a graduating preschooler, an awesome friend...who thought I was mad at her.

I instantly broke out into hysterically crying...which, I'm sure, made it nearly impossible for her to understand me. But bless her heart- she listened to me, told me I wasn't crazy and comforted me by saying she knew everything would be okay. I believed her, it was going to be okay.

Little Miss and I picked up my daddy for lunch and ran into another sweet friend of ours...who is a pool genius and is turning our "pond" in our backyard back into a pool. (Seriously, she's amazing. It was so gross even snakes were disgusted by it.) She is an animal person like myself...obviously she is b/c she braves the dobermans in the backyard to reach the pool the snakes are afraid of. I left her to work her magic and told her I have my phone if she needs me.

Except Little Miss was playing a game on said phone and shut the sound off...so I didn't hear her call when she called to say the dogs (2 of the 3) had gotten out...of the backyard...that they never leave.

Holy hell. I screamed at a waiter "I NEED MY CHECK!" like a mad woman. All I could picture was Sassy and Calvin (Zorro was in the house) as road kill. They are protective, they are wonderful guard dogs...but street smart? Pahaha, no. Cars? They're fun things to dart in front of, right?! I was trying my hardest to not freak the hell out because 1) I was in a restaurant with my father and daughter and 2) I was with my daughter...who adores these dogs and 3) Let's face it, Little Miss is her mother's child- she was already thinking the worst.

I ran to the car, dragging Little Miss and took off. The restaurant happened to be less than a minute away from my house but it seemed like forever. I prayed I would round the corner and see them waiting for me- but no. I grabbed Zorro & set out running screaming (and crying at this point) "SASSY!! CALVIN!! COME HOME, BABIES!" (This would be the moment all of my neighbors confirmed that I was all sorts of crazy.) The mail lady happened to be delivering our mail and told me she thought my dogs were at the elementary school...probably terrifying children by their vicious licks. I started running towards the school and when I rounded the corner...what did I see? Two little dobies, running wide open (but so close together they looked like they were attached) tongues waggin', legs all over the place. I was so thrilled to see them that at first I wasn't mad at all. Shortly after their return, I found out they not only went to the elementary school- but also to a lawyers office on the main road....then I grounded them. Our pool whisperer was such a help- she drove all over town looking for them. Only a true animal person would do that...she was just as worried as I was.

So now that my day from hell is over...I can laugh at myself a little. It wasn't until today that I was able to do that though. The vet called me from a neighboring town this morning- he had to come down here for an emergency and wanted to see if I'd like to have Broadway checked out. Um, yes, please. Turns out- he had an abscess in his hoof that was trying its best to make its way out- but the Christina Louboutin's were putting a stop to it. Once the vet removed his shoe on the "bad" leg- the abscess burst and he instantly felt much better.

And so did I.