Monday morning, turkey bloat and blogger guilt.

Here we are. Its Monday morning. I just got back from taking S. to work. I will be so glad when Feb. gets here. She will be a legal driver then.

Buck loaded up the boys and went to cut wood. Yes they need to be doing school. But the wood pile is very low after the storm this weekend. Would they be able to concentrate in a cold house? I think not. Don't want their little brains to be frosty now would I? Thus they are spending the morning learning to be lumber jacks, and bonding with dear ole dad.

Poor dad. When they left T. had just thrown a snowball at N. N. wasn't taking it well. He was spitting and sniveling, and complaining. N. " Mamaaaaa T. is being mean to me! " Me, " I don't care, go feed the dogs, they are hungery and they will eat Pete." More whining, " But Mamaaaa T. is being really really mean to me, I want to tell you what he did!" Me," N. I said I didn't care and I don't, I don't want to hear it." N. once again," But Mamaaaaa Pleaseeeeee let me tell you how mean he is, and what he did to meeeeee!" I walk into the house, and say over my shoulder, " N. go tell your dad, tell him all about it." N. walking toward the barn hollering, " Daddyyyyyy T. is being mean to me, I am going to tell you what he did!" I know, I am dirty and rotten, but hey I carried them for 9 long months, spent hours in labor, and then endured the birthing process. I figure we are about fair on this deal.

I know that maybe some of you think that I am an uncaring person. I mean my baby was in pain, who knows what this might do to his self-esteem. His own mother saying she didn't care, how could I? After raising 4 kids, I could very easily. If there is no blood, no broken bones, and no missing teeth, I figure they will work it out. And they don't need me to do it. I just don't think that having a snowball down your overall's and being called, " Juanita", is a major thing. And besides its Monday, and I haven't even had my coffee yet.

I think I have been poisoned. Yes its really true. As I started to pull on my jeans this morning they seemed a little, how shall we say this...snug. Yes snug is a good word for it. And I feel....oh I don't know, puffed up. More like bloated. Yes bloated is a very good word for it. Yucky, puffed up and bloated. I can't imagine why? I mean I ate healthy all weekend. I tried to get in all the food groups. Cheesecake is included in dairy, I am sure of it.

Dh and Ds have a remedy for the bloat. They assured me it works. They have been known to use it numerous times, and it has been quite the conversation at our dinner table. More then once, I might add. Here it is for future reference. You take your pocketknife, no need to clean it. Find the prime stomach place on the blown up bovine. Then you poke it it. Yes that is right, in the gut. Noxious air is released. The blown up bovine goes down and all is well. Yikes! I think I will just drink a pint or 2 of detox tea and walk to the highway.

Blogger guilt. Did you know that it is really a condition? Well it is. Joshua coined the term, just this weekend.
He happened by as I was frantically blogging. He seemed surprised that I was now a " blogger." He asked me how I like it, and mentioned that it was addictive. I mentioned that it seemed, sometimes like a job. I mean, I have this thing, right? So I feel like I should be blogging all the time. Not only that but I feel like I should be inspiring, and spouting knowledge, and wisdom for the masses to read. If I don't post, and if I have nothing to say, that would be considered genius, I feel.....well, ashamed. Not to mention the agony I have over my poor grammar, and lack of spelling ability. As I was lamenting all of this to Joshua, he just stood there with a thoughtful look upon his face. It seemed he was really listening....I waited. Finally he said, with much emphasis, " Ah....you have blogger guilt." Yes, Yes, Yes! I have blogger guilt. It isn't all in my head! There is finally a word, a description. A diagnosis! Now the healing can began. And at that I bid you fellow blogger's adieu And know that this condition is real, you are not a freak, and that there is hope, a light at the end of the blogging tunnel.
God Bless and Happy Trails,
Ranch Wife