Well, Would You Look At That!!

The new and improved A Bushel and A Peck!!! It is awesome, if I do say so myself. But I can't take an ounce of credit for it. My very good (and talented) friend did it all for me! I am, how should I say, stupid, when it comes to techinical computer stuff. She asked if she could design my page and I let her run with it. So I must thank Diana, for the wonderful new look of my blog. I can't do all that fancy schmancy linking stuff, so over at the side of my blog, there is a link to Diana's blog Of The Princess and The Pea. If there is anyone (besides me and Diana of course lol) reading this, please go over and check out her blog. Not only does her page look awesome, but the content is even better! So once again, thank you, Diana!!!! I feel so bloggerific now!

Whose Idea Was This Anyway?

Seriously, who thought of this? Let's go out in the sweltering heat, take a bag full of clubs, and try to hit a small white ball miles and miles (it seems like miles to me) across the grass to a teeny tiny hole. Why? What a dumb game.

Alright, it wouldn't be a dumb game if I was better at it. But in my defense, I haven't been out since before Little Man was born, so about 4 years ago. I plan every summer to go, but it doesn't seem to ever happen. Well today it did. Hubby finally asked me to go golfing. WOO HOO I thought. Finally, I get to go!! We loaded up our golf bags, picked up my father in law and brother in law, and headed out.

The first hole was a par 4. I got a 5. I was happy with that. I felt good with a 5. I don't know if my 5 made me overly confident or what, but by hole 3 I was using 11 strokes to get that darn ball in that darn hole. I was whiffing (missing the ball completely), making some nice size divits in the grass, and spewing some not so nice expletives. The madder I got, the more I sucked.

Finally I got mad enough to ask Hubby for some pointers. He is a pretty good golfer. So after taking into consideration his reccomendations, I saw somewhat of an improvement. I was trying to kill the ball every time I teed off. Being the only female in the group, I wanted to keep up with the boys. But, the more I tried to kill it, the more I whiffed. So I settled with relaxing, keeping my head down, and just focusing on making contact with the ball. It helped.

My Bro in law provided some much needed comic relief. He was quite the funny man. After teeing off and not even sending his ball to the woman's tees, he grinned and heaved his golf club. It actually went further than his ball. So he almost hit the grounds keeper on the green right next to us, but it was hilarious! As we were waiting for a group to play thru (I was kinda slow), Bro in law spotted a fat grounghog at the edge of a corn field bordering the golf course. He picks up his driver and stalks the groundhog. We, meanwhile, are sitting in the golf carts laughing our butts off. Each time the critter looks up, Bro in law comes to a halt. He gets within a few feet of the hog, raises his club, and...... Yes, the groundhog spotted him a waddled into the field. I guess you just had to see it to appreciate it. A grown man with a raised golf club in one hand, and a beer in the other. Funny stuff.

All in all, my first time back out on the course was fun. I did manage to hit my first sandtrap and get out of it with one stroke, missed all the water hazzards, and only lost one ball. In my book, that's pure sucess. I had a great time and am making hubby promise he'll take me out again soon.

I Should Have Said Something...Or Not

Tonight we went grocery shopping. By we, I mean me, hubby, and little man. We had just gotten our cart, little man was pushing it of course, and we headed to the first aisle. As we walked along, I heard a couple of young men walking behind us. They were having a conversation of which I was not interested in. Until I heard it. You know, the big one. The F Bomb. Not once, not twice, not even 3 times, but every other word. I can't even tell you what the conversation was about. All I kept hearing was that word.

Ok, now don't get the wrong idea. I use the F Bomb, I say other 4-letter words. I do not, however, say them in front of children, or in the grocery store for others to hear. I most certainly dont purposely say them in front of my son.

My mind was reeling as I was listening to him talk. I wanted so badly to turn around and say something. I wasn't going to say something rude, or smart. Just simply ask him to clean up his language if he was going to continue to walk behind my family. I opened my mouth to say it, but I couldn't. I was afraid of the confrontation. I was afraid he would spout off, or be rude to me, or start a battle of words in front of my son. So I turned around and shot him a dirty, mom-type look. It went completely over his teenage head and soon they turned into a different aisle.

We continued our shopping. All the while I was thinking. Should I have said something? As a mom, should I have stood up for my right to walk thru the grocery store with my son without hearing the F Bomb? Would it have been worth it? He could have made it so much worse even if I had asked him politely to watch his mouth. Or did I wuss out? I am so mad at myself. I am still wondering as I type this if I made the right decision.

Its just...people these days. I mean, where is the respect?? Could those boys not see my little man pushing the cart just feet in front of them? What is wrong with society that I am afraid to stand up for my family, for fear of engaging in a war with a teenage boy? I wish I had the answers. Darn it, I'm still not sure I did the right thing.

Dear Husband

Dear Husband,

I am really mad at you right now, hence the color red. Why do you have this thought in your head? You do not make all the rules in the house. If memory serves, I bring home half the bacon. That means I make decisions too. Usually this is not a probelm in our house. Until now.

I want a kitten. I have approached you many times now over the past month. Each time, it ends up in a fight. You say no. You act as if you are the Supreme Rule Maker. It's not fair. Just because you grew up without cats, and were told to hate them, doesn't mean I feel that way. Remember the two cats I used to have? You know, Cinders--who I had for 10 years, and Oreo--who was Gavin's cat. Well, remember how you made me put them outside even tho they were strictly inside cats? Remember how they both ran away? I am still a triffle mad about that.

Its not like I am asking you to take care of it, or even help in the slightest with its care. I will do all the work (as usual), I will clean the litter box (just as before), I will be sure to run the sweeper every day to avoid any cat hair lying around (you remember what the sweeper looks like, right?).

Bottom line, it aint over. I want a cat. I want a cat inside. You are not the boss of me.

All my love,

Your Angry, But Determined, Wife

Family Traditions

No, not the Hank Williams Jr song; although it is one of my all-time favorites. Now I will have that song stuck in my head for the rest of the day. Anywho, its seems we have started a family tradition of sorts. For the past 5 weeks, we have somehow ended up eating supper at the home of my sister and brother in law. It is usually the result of my husband, my son, and my sister's husband working on the farm well past the average household's supper time. So we began combining our supper plans and eating together. After the first few Saturdays, it became a given that the 5 of us would gather to eat supper together. The boys would hang out at the grill drinking their adult bevarages and tending the cooking burgers (Gavin being one of the boys, but drinking juice of course), and the girls doing some cooking in the kitchen and doting over baby items. Oh, yes, I forgot to mention, my sister and bro in law are expecting their first bundle of joy. Sixteen days to go!

Back to the tradition. It is so much fun! So relaxed. Just sitting around in the warm evening air, talking and just being. Just being together as a family. The guys joking and poking fun at me and my sister to get a rise out of us (the antagonists). We strike back at their comments (the fire fuelers). Gavin runs around catching lightning bugs and asks a bajillion questions. I couldn't ask for a better tradtion.

Last night was no different as far as the traditional Saturday-night-get-together goes. It was quite a bit later than our normal late supper; we sat down to eat at 10 pm. I know, I know--How awful! But it just happens sometimes. Our men were out farming all day and into the dark hours. And yes, our 3 1/2 year old son was still up and about. Its just the way of our farming life sometimes I guess.

Our night was different in one way. My very pregnant sister. She was an emotional wreck. I helped her fold towels while the boys were grilling. She burst into tears and ran off to the bathroom. I waited for her to come back out and gave her a hug asking what was wrong. She is afraid she will go into labor and her dear husband will be under the influence of the adult beverages our men were partaking in out at the grill. I assured her that no matter what, someone would be able to get her to the hospital and that her hubby wasn't outside getting sloshed. I got her calmed down just in time for the boys to bring platefulls of meat into the house. I watched my dear bro in law look at his preggo wife's red and tear streaked face with a puzzled look on his own face. He glanced at me as if to clue him in on the puzzle. I smiled sweetly and shook my head at him to tell him to just let it go.

My sister went on to fix her plate and I suddenly heard the quiet sound of sniffling and saw her shoulders shaking slightly. I again glanced at my bro in law and threw my head in direction of the crying pregnant lady. He walked over behind her and wrapped his arms around her big belly. She seemed to melt back into him and cried very quietly for a moment. Just as quickly as she began her crying, she stopped. We all sat down for our late-nite BBQ and continued conversation as usual.

I can so sympathize with my sister and her raging emotions. I've been there. No one but the mom-to-be is as anxious for the arrival of the new baby. Don't get me wrong, of course the daddy and other family members are excited in awaiting the bundle. But its different for the mommy as its she who will be pushing something the size of a watermellon out thru a hole the size of a quarter. Nuff said.

After our tradtional Saturday supper last night, I believe we will put a temporary hold on the tradition. I think it would be wise to wait to resume traditions until after the blessed event. And probably until after post partum has subsided. I will, however, continue to call Mrs Preggo Belly every day for an update. I can't wait to introduce my new nephew!!