Home is where the heathens are...

Kennedy went to stay with Blaine's parents for four days, and I'll tell you what, the ride home from bringing her to them was A-M-A-Z-I-N-G-L-Y quiet. There was no fighting in the backseat. No hitting or crying or foul language. I did not have to threaten bodily harm or take off my flip flop once the whole time!

Rhiannon and Colton both rode along looking out their window without having to worry about an elbow coming out of left field or a fist upside their head because their foot was too close to hers...

But....I miss the little turd! Our house isn't the same and it kinda makes me sad. I know she's giving Granny and Pawpaw hell, so I should get some pleasure out of that!

Rhiannon will go next week for 4 days, and The Boy will go the week after for the same amount of time. Too bad they couldn't take them all together...although, I'd probably feel lost without my little heathens. All the whining and moaning I do about how they live to make me crazy, and all I want is for them to be home...

Shut. Up. Seriously...SHUT UP!

My kids are my world. I love my kids immensely. I would kill for my kids. I would die for them.

But if I hear any more screaming, crying, bickering, tattling, whining, name-calling, or one of them say, "Mom!" in a voice that would make Satan cringe, I am seriously going to lose my fucking mind.

Only 36 days, 13 hours, and 50 minutes ... or so I've heard, because I'm not really counting ... until they're back in school!

It's very "moving."

A once in a lifetime event, I'm sure...going to see The Moving Wall on Independence Day. Well that's what we did. It had rained earlier in the day, and I hoped it would subside for our trip up there. It did. We walked around the mud and avoided the puddles while the sun shined above. Reading the thousands of names inscribed on the half-size replica of the Vietnam Veteran's Memorial that is located in Washington D.C. was truly an experience.

Location, location, location!

So, I attempted fireworks pictures for the first time ever. We weren't in the best spot - hence the car you see in some of the pictures...and I didn't have a tripod - I propped my camera on the trunk of my car and randomly snapped away. Next year, it's all about location, location, location! And I'll have a tripod and probably a remote...must be prepared! But I was kinda pleased with my trial and error shots.

A few of my favorites out of all my favorites!







And here are all of the shots that I chose as favorites.

Hello? Is anybody out there?

I haven't forgotten about this blog...

It's obvious...I'm a crackhead.

Next weekend is a big deal. We're having a birthday party - complete with pizzas, cakes, ice cream, a piñata, and a bounce house with slide...much like this one. There will be lots of screaming kids, plenty of fun, and hopefully no fighting or broken bones. This will all take place at my house, because I'm on crack, evidently. What other reason could be behind my planning such an event at my home?

I will have to clean before and after the party. I will have to keep the extra children out of my kids' rooms. I will have to make sure the dog is gone for the day.

I have lost my ever-lovin' mind.

What did she just say?

Mmmkay, so I bought the movie "Gremlins" for my kids. It's a classic, you can't see it at the store for 10 bucks and not buy it. Well, I can't anyway.

So, Kennedy and I were watching it the other night, and it comes to a part where Phoebe Cates' character is talking about the death of her father on Christmas Eve when she was a child:

"The worst thing that ever happened to me was on Christmas. Oh, God. It was so horrible. .... I was 9 years old. Me and Mom were decorating the tree, waiting for Dad to come home from work. A couple hours went by. Dad wasn't home. ....... Christmas Day came and went, and still nothing. So the police began a search. Four or five days went by. ...... The house was freezing, so I went to try to light up the fire. That's when I noticed the smell. ......they pulled out my father. He was dressed in a Santa Claus suit. He'd been climbing down the chimney. ...... He slipped and broke his neck. He died instantly.

And that's how I found out there was no Santa Claus."

Yeah, read that last line again. Luckily the 5½ year old little girl who will only behave near Christmas-time is if I threaten her with calling Santa Claus and telling him how bad she's been didn't catch it!