Monday, September 28, 2009

His New Nickname is Plus Five

My husband, my wonderful, sweet husband. He’s crazy you know. If you want proof, just watch him at one of our kid’s sporting events. During baseball, he found himself crawling across the ground screaming RUN-RUN when Dillon hit a home run, at playdays he does the left-foot-right-foot-left-foot weave hop when Sis is running poles. I’ve actually had other children’s parents tell me that he is more fun to watch than the games. He’s passionate about his kids.

HOWEVER.

This took place Saturday night: He and Sis had gone to a rodeo. He roped his calf and then got onto the business of getting her ready for her barrel run. He always walks into the alley way and stands at the edge of the arena where he can help her into/out of the arena if needed. This is where he stands and does the requisite crazed barrel-racer parent KICK KICK SIT DOWN PULL KICK KICK scream until the run is over. (If any of you said parents are out there, he used to make fun of you until he had a daughter who wanted to barrel race and now he is undeniably one of you) According to her dad, Sis was making a fantastic run until she clipped the third barrel with her knee. The barrel balanced, teetering on its edge for a second or so before falling over causing an audible ohhhhhh from the audience. What the audience didn’t see, or we HOPE they didn’t, was her Dad leaning with the barrel, using his body to will it to stand up, leaning, praying the force of his hope and will would upright it. Then it fell. And so did he. My husband, my very masculine, macho, muscular, rub a little dirt on it you aren’t hurt, husband found himself on his hands and knees in arena dirt, and according to him, not even realizing he had fallen until he was elbow deep.

This man loves his children and this is only one of the reasons I love this man.

Oh and if any of you were there Saturday night and just happen to have this on video, I’ve got some $$ with your name on it, because that is just stinkin’ FUNNY and I promise to use the video to black mail him for the rest of his life. You know, because I love him so much.

Friday, September 25, 2009

Eat my dust and head for 3rd.


Hmmm


Doesn't it kind of look like Chris is saying STOP. Don't pull that! Probably was considering that Dillon is grinning.

Still pressing his luck

Last saturday Masen had her first OYRA rodeo. She was nervous and didn't have a good pole run. (Barrels looked great) Afterward we stopped and ate at one of my husband's favorite restaurants and Sis was in a less than great mood. Finally I'd had enough and pointed out to her that the rest of us had done nothing but support her and she could stop biting our heads off. Her brother took this opportunity to chime in: "Yeah, Miss Moodswing!!"

Again, we'll miss him.

My first baby.



She's growing up. Eleven years old and beautiful. She'll never know how proud I am of her, even though I try to tell her. She is her own unique person and at eleven knows more about who she is than I did at thirty. I thank God daily for allowing me to borrow her. Little Miss Mess, your Mom loves you.

Friday, September 11, 2009

We're going to miss him....

Last night my son walks through the dining room and for no reason other than to tick her off, says: Sissy's butt...its the BIG Island.

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

...And the HalleMOOyah Chorus.

My husband is weaning calves. Again. In the lot right behind my back door. Because I don’t have enough insanity in my life.

Wrecked Bikes...

My son has a dirt bike. I’ve posted pictures of him riding it on here several times. He’s had it for over a year and half, and to be honest, we were thinking it was time for a bigger one. Then we noticed the huge dent in the horse barn. THE barn. The barn with the cement floor and high dollar stalls. The barn that sold us our house. (long story, but trust me, without the barn, we would not have bought the house) So, Chris was inspecting this mysterious dent. It wasn’t the size of a dent that a horse would cause by kicking, and it was on the outside of the barn. It was too low to be caused by any farm equipment we have. But you know what - it was the exact size and height of the front tire of Dillon’s dirt bike. His explanation - I just forgot to stop.

Forgot. He. Forgot. To. Stop.

He forgot to stop as he approached a large steel/metal building traveling fast enough to leave a huge dent on a bike he has been riding for over a year. Dude, it’s a freaking BARN. Its not like he misjudged a storage building or clipped a tree, he hit the BARN. But, hey there mom, don’t freak out, I just FORGOT to stop. Has to be the male hormones coming out in him.

Snake Strikes...

We stopped at Mammy’s a few days ago to drop something off, or maybe pick something up, who knows. I sent Dillon to the front door and noticed him jumping backward, grinning like a crazy person, and yelling MOMMMMMM. Irritated, I shut down the engine of the truck and walked up there. Dill-man was all, that SNAKE tried to bite me. (he had my attention now) Sure enough, this tiny little snake was curled up at Mammy’s front door. And let me tell you, this snake was pissed. For such a small little thing, it had the attitude of a pit viper in an anaconda’s body. Of course, that all ended when Mammy chopped it’s little head off. Whatever you do...don’t mess with Mammy’s babies.