A Series of Unfortunate Events

I would like to start by saying nothing I am about to write about is a hardship. There are people who have real problems. I know this. I acknowledge this fact. Nothing I am about to complain about compares to some real hard, lonely, terrible issues. I’m just annoyed and going to whine about my first world problems, possibly blowing them out of proportion for comedic value. Okay??? Let’s continue.

Twas the week before moving and all through the house, my children had theme days and I gave no more effs about any of it. Miss A’s elementary school wanted a “house picture” where all the kids wore their “house shirt” that they had gotten the year before. Each house is a different color. If they can’t find or fit in their shirt-that’s okay! Just wear a shirt of the same color. Her house color is orange. Guess what color NEVER gets chosen when my children go shopping orange. I see the photo of the elementary, all organized by color, like a perfect little dayum rainbow and there’s Miss A with a big smile on her face: a purple dot in the middle of the orange stripe.

The buyer of our house wants an inspection, on Saturday so we need to go do something else. It’s prime packing and moving day, but it needs to happen so we are doing what we can before they arrive at 10AM. They show up at 9AM so we shut the doors and leave. The inspector hands us an old paystub that was laying in the street…that’s odd. I get in our beater car and see the glovebox hanging open. I must have forgotten to lock the car and I parked it on the street last night! Someone tossed our dang car and took our car manual, Hubby’s engine scanner, and whatever other random documents may have been in our glovebox and of course our cameras weren’t on. Argh.

Fast forward a couple days, we return to the house to find it about 80 degrees because Mr Inspector left our fireplace pilot flame burning all weekend. Awesome.

The buyer of our house wants the house professionally cleaned: okay. I think that’s actually a great ask and I will probably ask for it going forward. I call the cleaning company and the ONLY day they can even get us in next week is Tuesday. Now we have to get our entire house cleaned out by Monday night instead of Friday. Super duper.

I go to get cash for graduation cards. We keep an open account at the bank I used to work just because we like supporting local, We have a couple auto payments come out of it that we’ve had forever and use it as a little petty cash account. It’s negative. WHAT???? Our gas company has taken ten times out the regular payment and it has bounced our account $5. At first I’m thinking the dang inspector, then I remember the tossed glove box. Guess what? Fraud.

I go to the bank and fill out the paperwork for fraud with all my extra time I don’t have when I should be packing. Then the next day I go online to see if the account has been credited. Guess what? The bank closed my account. They didn’t open a new one. I asked where our hundreds of dollars went, “oh we put it in your daughter’s account.” What in the actual…is that even legal?

Okay: last day of school is here. The girls and I are leaving for our west as soon as school is over. Miss A has field day. I tell her I can come to one event: I have a lot of work to get done before we leave for the new house. She says she wants me to go to tug-of-war. It’s the first event of the day. Okay. I go to tug-of-war, it’s super quick. Miss A is thrilled I’m there. The second event is kickball. I thought, I have a few minutes. I’ll watch a bit. As I watch, Miss A is holding her face in the outfield, then she isn’t getting in line to kick, she’s in the dugout holding her face miserable with a toothache.

What says start-to-summer-vacation?? A trip to the dentist for a molar pulled. After big alligator tears and a clamped-shut mouth after seeing the extraction tools, the very patient dentist was able to pop the tooth out with his finger, and Miss A was in shape by the 3-legged race. She even said “It feels WAY better!”

After school we grabbed the dog, girls, and headed west. After a fun call to 911 about a motorist who was driving straight down the middle of both lanes for miles and getting to drive past a person having a medical event in the ditch along side the road, and two pit-stops, we made it to Medora in one piece…if you don’t count the tooth. Due to the bank debacle I didn’t have a chance to get small bills so it turns out the tooth fairy pays handsomely for dentist-extracted teeth on the western side of the state.

UFFDA Let summer begin!

Mom of the Year

Times of change are the times when a person feels the most, at least for me. Tomorrow morning my children will go to school as a 6th and 3rd grader for the last time. They’ll be going to their school, the only one they’ve known, for the last time. I will go sit on the street and wait for them to come to the car and tell me about their day as Squirrels for the last time.

We may have spent our last few day streak in our house. Each day as we box up our belongings and take apart furniture, we get one step closer to the last time we sleep in this house, the last time we cook a meal in our nice big kitchen, and the last time we watch the sunrise in the backyard or sunset down the street.

Tomorrow will be the last time I send an 8-year old to school. Miss A will turn 9 over the summer.

Tomorrow might be the last time the girls hug certain friends. Some of these people they see every day will most likely be completely gone from their lives after tomorrow at 1:30.

I feel such a mixture of emotion, from gratitude and excitement for the opportunities yet to come, to sadness and resentment toward the absence of support and presence as we round out our life on this side of the state.

I question every decision and worry I’m sending my kids to therapy in one moment and then think we are making the best decision for them the next.

As I try to convince the girls to sign up for camps and classes over the summer, any time they turn me down, I wonder if it is because they truly “just want to chill” or if they are regressing or avoiding engaging in their new community. Then the next minute, they’ll do or say something that reassures me that they’re great-I’m the one overthinking. I mean, how many kids go practice yoga poses in the badlands on a Sunday night for fun???? That’s pretty cool.

I heard once, or maybe I made this up, that if you worry about screwing up your kids, that’s a great indicator that you care as a parent. I question my choices from one moment to the next, so I must be mom of the year! Now where’s that packing tape…

34 Minutes

Selling a house is always an experience.  I haven’t enough time to really get into our real horror stories but I will tell you about our latest heart-racer. 

We have had a couple very interested parties in our house, it’s going fairly well. We are hoping to see the real estate Gods shine down upon them and turn our potential buyers into real-life buyers, but it isn’t all roses and rainbows. 

After a couple weeks on the market and a couple offers, the first exciting blast of showings died down and we simmered into the “talking contracts” side of things, so we weren’t as diligent about keeping the house “show ready”. 

The kids had gotten home from school, Miss A had a friend over, so Miss E was helping me by boxing up belongings and deciding what to keep and what to throw.  We had the whole office closet strewn across the room and boxes lining the walls with different destinations: garbage, new house, or storage.

Ding!

Our realtor at 4:23: “Can we have a showing at 5?”  I sent her the poo emoji and looked around the house.  I had been working all day, the kitchen, which I was working on packing the night before, was in shambles. The office a mess.  When had we last vacuumed???  I said “don’t tell them no” and hollered for Miss E.  We flew around the house picking up, tidying up, and wiping down.  

I banished Miss A and her friend to the park and told them I’d pick them up when we were done. Hubby came screeching into the driveway and got to work on the kitchen as I vacuumed at a frantic pace. 

We pulled out of the driveway at 4:57.  I texted our realtor “Clear!” 

We drive across town to another park and then decided we are going out for dinner.

Then a nice strong drink.  Sell your house they said….it’ll be fun they said…and in case you’re wondering: Hubby and I, wish the help to Miss E, can make our house show-ready in 34 minutes. 

Ready, Set, Rosemaling

I remember my grandmother liked doing crafty things. She had a big bucket of beads that we would use dir making bracelets. Shed paint anything: spoons, saw blades, etc.

I also remember in my youth, my doodles were always a bit more involved that just doodling. There would be a center, maybe an eye or a letter, and then I’d branch out from here center circling around and around.

I was reminded of both of these things when I tried Rosemaling today! I went down to Fort Ransom with Sister M and we went to a multi-hour class on Rosemaling.

Rosemaling is a Norwegian folk art.  I come from Norwegian stock on my father’s side and recall seeing items that were rosemaled growing up and I’m always down for a crafty good time. 

First off we used an acrylic paint on a wooden disc as a base, which dries relatively quickly. We transferred an image with graphite paper onto our painted “plate” and then got to work painting the scrolls, leaves, and flowers. For the image we used oil paint. It takes awhile to dry and takes a couple weeks to really cure.

We painted a Telemark Rosemaling design which is asymmetrical so it’s “easier” because there’s no need to make sure you match what you painted previously.

Once I had the base and the leaves and flowers done, I was a bit sad at my plate but the instructor told us: the magic happens with the line work.

After a short tutorial, we got to work with the line work. We painted these little plates for about 6 hours and when it was all said and done, I was pretty proud of my Rosemaled plate.

I drove home, to show Hubby and the girls. As I got out off the car, Miss E reached for my plate, grasped it, putting her thumb right in the paint, smearing it across the plate. She instantly apologized, but the damage was done.

I suggest trying Rosemaling, but maybe don’t let anyone see your work until you’ve let it sit for two weeks so it’s cured. I’m going to go lie down now.

Opportunity Knocking

I hear something knocking… I currently work for the region’s largest independent seed company as the Logistics Coordinator, or should I say, I did work for the region’s largest independent seed company.

You see, last Friday was my last day.

In an unforeseen turn of events, I have found myself in a position to seize an opportunity. This is the kind of opportunity that I believe if I didn’t take, I would think about what could have been, which made this opportunity too good for me to pass.

Now I believe opportunities are all around us, closing doors-opening windows and such. A mistake is an opportunity to learn. Something uncomfortable is an opportunity to grow. Some of the best stories come from taking opportunities when they’re presented.

I was online with an unredeemed voucher trying to plan my family’s annual trip to Medora. In my youth, I spent a couple of summers working there and now with Hubby and our children, we vacation on the other side of the state at least once a year.

I wondered if they still hired gobs of teens, like they did when I was there, so I clicked the “careers” link. I saw all of the seasonal jobs, plus a year-round full-time position, as I clicked on it, I read the description and what they were looking for in a candidate, and said “Hubby-I think they’re looking for me.” He looked online and said, “Sure does. Reach out-doesn’t hurt anything.”

After a couple phone calls, a zoom interview, and a multi-hour, in-person panel interview, complete with off-roading tour, I was presented an opportunity I couldn’t refuse.

So I said goodbye to some of my favorite people who don’t live in my house. These people who I shared my days with while “solving the world’s problems one soybean at a time”, the people who lifted my family up when our garage burnt to the ground and again when Miss A spent three days in the hospital with a head injury. We went through Covid together, and holidays, and blizzards, and crud markets, and regular old Tuesdays. Our kids have gone to camp together, we’ve entertained each other in our homes, and helped us move houses.

I am opting for my favorite people who do live in my house. Once Miss E and Miss A wrap up school, Hubby and I will move our household to the other side of the state.

I have traded in the region’s largest independent seed company for North Dakota’s largest tourism destination.

The girls are JACKED. Hubby is excited. I am a mixture of enthusiasm and anxiety that I have told myself can only lead to great things, and the best part, according to Miss E: we get yard chickens.

So if anyone has a lead on Silkie chicks, I’ll be over here tearfully, but excitedly, breathing into a paper bag, while pouring myself another bulldog. I heard opportunity knocking, and answered, taking the door off the hinges.

Flinging Into Spring

It’s that time of year again: when the winter isn’t over but the summer is almost here and the ACTIVITIES are ramping up and registration signups are everywhere!

If I don’t have it in my calendar, it doesn’t exist folks. I check my calendar every weekend and go over “the week’s plan” with Hubby. Last week I had an appointment or meeting every day.

Miss E loves band and choir so she participates in the Young Musician’s Festival, but this year it was scheduled on the school’s ONE snow day this winter, so the one day festival has been rescheduled into three partial-day performances so I’m adding going to the school to watch Miss E perform to my roster.

The girls are registered for soccer. We are still having the great: baseball vs softball debate. I’m stalking the Parks website like a druggie waiting for their next hit as I’m waiting for swimming lessons to open up.

We’ve been fundraising: oh the fundraising! Puffins, and Kid’s Heart Challenge, and 4H fruit, and steak fry, and raffle tickets oh the raffle tickets! Wait…raffle tickets?? Shoot!! We forgot the dang raffle tickets.

As we fill out our books of tickets we “sold”, please remember those activities-parents just trying to hold it together as we go from quiet winter to end-of-school and welcome summer craziness!.

Now hand me a pen. I have a lot of tickets to fill out.

Birthday Magic

Today is my birthday. My kids believe in a certain amount of magic around birthdays. When it’s their birthdays, they wake up to balloons. I try to give them a special treat: muffins for breakfast, an ice cream stop, etc. There are usually gifts and maybe a special meal. Mom, with an assist from Dad, supply the magic.

My birthday fell on a Tuesday, which is our busiest night of the week with both girls having a dance class. When I walked out to my car, leaning next to my car were matching rocking chairs, that I had been eyeing for our front porch. I hear Hubby “Happy birthday Mama.”

I was off to work where my coworkers showered me with some birthday love.

Miss A has dance class directly after school so Miss E and I had a little alone time. “Do you know what I want?” I asked. “What?” Miss E responded. “I want a DQ birthday treat and a walk around the pond with you.” “Okay!” Miss E loves DQ and any outside alone time with a parent.

We pulled into Dairy Queen and ordered our treats. Then we went home, took care of the dogs, and went outside for a 58-degree walk around the park.

Then it was off to get Miss A from dance. I left Miss E to play with the dogs and went to get her younger sister. I asked “Do you know what I want for my birthday?” “What???” Miss A asked. “I want a treat and a clean car.” “what about Sister? Let’s go to the gas station!” Miss A declared, which just-so-happens to be one of Miss A’s favorite things to do.

Off we went to the gas station for a treat and a car wash. Miss A picked out the perfect pack of bubblegum and I grabbed some buns…I already had my treat and she wasn’t paying attention anyway.

When Hubby gets home, I ask him “What meal would you like to dine on your birthday?” “I’m debating between nachos or summer sausage, but it’s date night and we are eating out tomorrow night, so maybe we should stay home.” He looked at me and said “Well it is your birthday tonight.” So I took Miss E to dance, Hubby made himself less mechanic-looking, and we headed to our favorite watering hole. Miss E was done for class about the time food was served so we had a late dinner.

I took a pocket of quarters so the girls could play skeeball and the claw machine and we had a great night. When we got home, I opened the fridge and there was a cake. I looked at Hubby: “WHEN did you have time to get a cake?!?” He smiled “While you were sleeping last night. Happy birthday.”

Sometimes Hubby, on his own, provides the birthday magic.

Nuggles and No Sleep

Miss A is the Princess of ‘Nuggles. As she gets older, some things change, but some things stay the same.

Miss A hasn’t had a successful sleep over, unless we count when a friend took both children over night when we had the fire. Even then, Miss A wasn’t happy about it but she dealt.

She’s gone to a handful of birthday parties, some with sleepovers attached, but Hubby and I inevitably get the 9:30 call-she wants to come home.

She even tried having a friend stay at our house, and about 9:30 Miss A told me-she was ready for her friend to leave. The kid just turns into a pumpkin around 9:30 and doesn’t have time for people other than mom or dad.

This past weekend, one of her friends had a birthday party and Miss A didn’t even bother packing a bag. “I’ll go to the party, but I’m coming home at bedtime.” Then about an hour into the party, I get a phone call: “Mom, can you bring a bag? I’m going to try staying over.”

I told Hubby I was going to pack a bag and run it across town to the party. Miss A is going to attempt a sleepover.

“Uh huh.” He replied. I dropped the bag and told the hosting mom, I’ll have my phone on me if things change. Miss A grabbed the bag and took off.

About 11pm I decided to turn in, no call. My baby girl decided to sleep over. Part of me was proud, a little part was sad, one more first as she develops into her own independent person.

I picked her up the next morning, we pulled away from her friend’s house and she tells me “Mom I didn’t sleep.”

“You mean you didn’t sleep well?”

“No I didn’t sleep. You see, if I didn’t sleep, I didn’t need to call you because it was never bedtime. Me and Birthday-Girl stayed up ALL NIGHT long so I wouldn’t need to call you. I’m going to bed early tonight.”

I smirked as I drove home. Maybe my baby girl isn’t quite ready for sleepovers, but she was definitely ready for some ‘nuggles. Some things may change, but some things stay the same.

Do You Like Food? Check out an SCD

All across the country, including our state, we have soil conservation districts. What the heck is a soil conservation district?

A soil conservation district, or an SCD, has one goal: help conserve and preserve soil for future generations.

Do you like food? You need healthy soil in which to grow it and clean water. That’s a pretty straightforward goal.

SCDs are non-partisan groups because all side of the political coin agree: producing food for our planet is important and feeding more people on less soil, is an obstacle, so how can we help people to retain and enhance their practices to save soil and have clean water for generations?

Do you know what doesn’t help soil? Erosion. Wind erosion and water erosion can be a huge loss of topsoil when we leave soil uncovered. SCDs have programs that can help reduce erosion. A lot of people think, at least in our area, SCDs plant trees. Which they do! That isn’t all they do.

Healthy soil and water requires pollination and insects in the ecosystem. Want advice on native plants to attract birds and bees to boost your local ecosystem? Contact an SCD!

Are you on a local park board and want some guidance on how to choose plants for months, years, and decades into the future? Contact an SCD.

Whether it’s advice on what to plant in your small urban yard or garden, or how to adopt practices for your large farms’ fields and prairie, a district employee can help!

There’s no cost to call an SCD. When a district employee is working with you to identify your goals and needs, there most-likely is a cost-share program available to help too!

So the next time you think clean water and healthy soil, think about your local soil conservation district.

In fact, if you want to check out more of what I’m talking about, check out my home county’s SCD: http://cassscd.org!

Hellos and Goodbyes

We are a dog family.  Shortly after Hubby and I were married, we brought home our first dog, a pug: Tugger.  Then a few years later, after we bought our first house, we adopted another pug: Jack.  Then as old age caught up with Tigger, we adopted a shepherd mutt: Denali. 

We worried how Jack would be without Tugger around so we somehow thought Denali would help.  When Tugger was 15, we said goodbye.  Old age had caught up with him.   In the years since, Jack has not given two hoots that Denali exists.  Other than help barking at cars that dare drive on our block, Jack didn’t bind with Denali.  

Miss E claimed Denali.  Tugger was Hubby’s, and by default Jack is mine.  Let’s be clear: they all started as mine and then end up someone else’s. 

Jack was adopted from a shelter in Nebraska after being returned three times because he was un-housetrainable.  He had obviously been abused as he was afraid of EVERYTHING when we got him.  After months and months or patience, cleaning and training, Jack got house training.  He was afraid of the click-clacking his paws made on hard floors so we laid down rugs.  

We took him to the vet when he was drastically losing weight .  A lot of tests were run: he’s old, feed him whatever he wants was the diagnosis.  Then we found he was afraid of the food dish moving across the floor as he ate, so he’s walk away, and one of his siblings would steal his food.  We started feeding  him directly on the floor, and he gained weight. 

We took him to the vet when he was lethargic and were told he’s very old and in human years, he’d be older than any living human.  We said this isn’t that appointment-just give us some medicine and Jack got better.

His eyes clouded, his hearing is all but gone, and he isn’t afraid anymore.  He shuffles around our house scouting for food or feet to curl up on.  His back legs are starting to go, but he still dances for cheese and his little curled tail twitches back and forth as he smiles when we come home each day. 

He’s starting to have accidents, but neverin his crate.  Sometimes while struggling to stand, he’ll have an accident, and we’ll clean him and the floor and move on.  Our carpet shampooer is on standby at all times. 

Jack is 17 now.  We’ve talked to the girls about the inevitable.  We’ve talked about making the decision when his quality of life isn’t there.  Miss A and I shed lots of tears the other night after an episode where Jack went down and for a moment, I didn’t know if he’d get up. 

Miss A told me that she asked Jesus to let Jack live forever and she didn’t want to hear anything that may be contrary to that happening. 

I’m looking down the barrel of almost two decades of being a Pug Mom and soon will be pug-less.  Each day we wake up wondering if today is the day.  Is it time to say goodbye to our 15-year companion who’s been with us through four houses, numerous camping trips, and two kids?  

Are we saying Hello to a one-dog era?  We haven’t had only one dog since 2006.  Hubby is excited about one-dog life.

As we try to steel our nerves to say goodbye, I’m also keeping my heart open for a Hello.  Besides, I may have already reached out to a couple rescues…shhh don’t tell Hubby.