Dickerson Garden 2014

As a biology major, you would think that I would be less than mesmerized by the garden.  Obviously, I've got a pretty good grasp on photosynthesis and respiration.  However, the garden truly amazes me. 

This past spring, my Uncle Tim and Aunt Candy came by to visit on their way to "check the cows".  If you've never lived in the country, that is code for "we are bored so we go look at our cows in various pastures".  Seriously though, we discussed gardens, etc.  Several weeks later, Uncle Tim showed back up with his tractor and offered to "break up the land" for my garden.  Although we have access to my Daddy's tractor in the barn, I'm smart enough to capitalize on free labor by an expert.  So, Uncle Tim broke up the garden.  My cousin Bobby and Chad built a fence to protect the garden from the cows and various other critters. 

Finally, we were able to plant some "ongions" (according to Farmer Blake).  All five of us spent about an hour and lots of laughter planting an onion patch because Blake Dickerson couldn't grasp the concept of rows.  Several weeks after that, we planted squash, watermelon, okra, cantaloupe and various pepper varieties.  I peeked in on my very first garden fairly often.  The plants were growing slowly.  However, in the month of June, the garden has really grown.  We've had what I would consider to be an unusually wet June.  We've picked more jalapeño peppers than I can even begin to eat, freeze, give away, etc.  The tomatoes are in abundance as well.  The onions were either mediocre or terrible.  We really didn't have great luck with large onions this year.  The squash were kind of small initially too; however, with the most recent rain, we've managed to harvest a few grocery store size squash.   My cantaloupe plants died.  I think with our sandy soil and a few 4 year old footprints nearby, the roots may have rotted with the water pooled around them.

The mesmerizing aspect of the garden is the simplicity.  Seriously, we tilled up a small patch of sandy, nothing fancy land and planted less than $50 worth of plants.  We sprinkled a little fertilizer and made sure there was water when God wasn't providing that free of charge.  Other than that, we've done nothing.  In exchange for a few dollars and a couple hours of manual labor, we've been blessed with hundreds of dollars worth of fresh vegetables for ourselves and some to share. 

I tried explaining my fascination with the garden to Kennedy.  I was thinking it was going to be one of those bonding moments. She simply said, "Yes Mom, water and sunshine and chlorophyll make plants grow."  I remember feeling similar amazement when Kennedy was born.  We all know that egg plus sperm and 40 weeks makes baby.  But until you have actually experienced MAKING another human being, it's hard to wrap your brain around God's miracle.  The garden is my newest miracle. 

 I do love fresh tomatoes and bacon wrapped jalapeño peppers. But, I'd be lying if I said they were my favorite part of the garden.  Seriously, who can resist a girl in her panties and boots with the "garden bag" waiting on her big sister's approval to "pick dis one".

Carseat or Toxic Landfill?

I feel like it's my job as a woman, wife, mother, and friend to share my nuggets of wisdom (when appropriate) with others to help them feel 'normal' or avoid unnecessary grief.

For example, many of my friends who had their first baby after I had Kennedy know the 'I don't even want her story'.  Similarly, Chad and I made it our mission to tell new parents that newborns sleep amazingly well in the hospital only to come home and forget how.  We seriously felt like some great people let us down by not telling us that our first night home from the hospital with a baby would be about 15 minutes on this side of the destination hades.

So, here's my newest wisdom. Those of you who figured this out and didn't let me in on the secret are on my Christmas list under 'Memaw's fruitcake'. That's not good, folks. 

Back to the nugget of wisdom...buying one of those 250 in 1 convertible carseats is a bad idea. First of all, those of us in Texas know that with the fairly recent law changes, kids need to be in a carseat until they go to high school. Well, maybe not all kids, but when you only have 1 person in 3 generations of family over 5 feet 8 inches tall, your kids can expect to take their booster seat on their first date. 

The convertible carseat seemed so obvious with child 3.  She was the last kid, so there would be no need to trade, upgrade, shuffle like we did with the older kids.  However, the seat is FILTHY. We don't typically let our kids eat in the car. It doesn't matter. Today I completely disassembled the seat. It was absolutely shameful. I hesitate to post these picture because CPS may be able to use it as evidence of unlivable conditions.  

Seriously, she's been using this seat for a little over 2 years. It has been spot cleaned a time or two. How does this happen?  Ugh. 

Here's the best part. Look at the ooey, gooey, sticky nastiness down in the seat. Biohazard is the word that came to mind as I began to scrape and scrub with disinfectant wipes.

Now for the last picture, I will say that I do take the seat out, vacuum underneath it and shake it out often. Seriously, about once a month the seat receives  what I naively thought was a decent 'shake down'. After performing said shakedown outside, this is what I dumped out in the floor while disassembling the seat. 

My thoughts are that a convertible carseat sounds great. Who doesn't love the idea of needing only 1 for all of the ages and stages?  However, the carseat becomes a toxic landfill before the child outgrows it.  

Unfortunately for me, I'm both a tightwad and a little OCD. The filth is gross, but the idea of getting rid of a perfectly safe carseat to buy a new, clean one just won't settle in my soul. Therefore, these tools and a lot of elbow grease had to suffice. 

I must say, the end product really wasn't too bad. 

Carseat looks pretty good, but I'm exhausted. All of those hooks and straps just pop right off. Not a single one just popped right back on though. I think I'll take on this project again in exactly 894 days!  

Those of you with babies and toddlers in your future, consider the reality of the toxicity of that convertible carseat over the course of 1-7 years. Might be ok to get one stage at a time and trash it when time to progress to next type of seat. 

Three

Numbers are an integral part of our daily lives.  I'm sure everyone else is just like us in the ridiculous number of numbers that you encounter every single day.  We have phone numbers, house numbers, passwords. We even have a digital lock on our house with a number to make it open so I don't have to keep up with the key. 

At least once every few weeks, one of our kids will get on a kick about "favorites".  We answer questions about favorite foods, movies, books, colors, and numbers.  The number three has a special place in the list of favorites at our house.  Dale Earnhardt drove the number three car before he was killed.  As early as February 2002, the first NASCAR race after Kennedy's birth, our kids have enjoyed (or endured) countless hours of NASCAR and conversations about Earnhardt and Junior.  Needless to say, when Kennedy was asked what number she preferred on her softball team last month, she immediately answered "three!". 

The number three is significant to Chad because of his hero and Kennedy because she adores her daddy and has been brainwashed.  Taylor is excited about third grade next month.  We do have three kids and are currently living in our third house as a family while I work my third job since college.  However, the number three is my least favorite number! 

BADkid is three.  I love that child with every fiber of my being.  However, she is three.  I can't even recall the number of times (maybe 33,333) I have thought and said, "I don't remember three being this bad before".  Is it because she is the THIRD child?  Maybe it's because I'm in my 30s?  Maybe it's a combination of all of the above? 

Blake Alayne is an affectionate, tender, loving child for about 20 minutes of each week.  Beyond that, she is wide open and will test every single thing you say to her every single time.  If you've seen her in action, you probably said something really disgusting like "she's so cute".  You probably heard me say something really honest like "only because she doesn't live at your house".  Seriously, I love her, but she is wearing me out.

Here's a tiny glimpse into my morning at the grocery store.

Get out of car and unbuckle kid who has taken off her shoes.  Tell her to put her shoes on.  Take doll and blanket away from kid and repeat that she must put her shoes on her feet.  Wait 2 minutes because she has decided to squeal "my caint!" instead of bend over and pick up her shoes.  Explain to kid that she can take either the doll or the blanket into the store, but not both.  Give up reasoning with kid.  Throw doll and blanket back in car and head for the entrance.  Hold kid's hand in a death grip across parking lot as kid tries to pull hand away and continuously repeats "I big girl.  I listen!"  Get buggy.  Explain to kid that she must hold buggy.  Kid darts off away from buggy.  Put kid in seat in buggy as kid demands "I big girl. I listen. I walk."  Pick shoes up off floor and toss into back of buggy.  Quickly zip through store and buy only the necessary items while repeating the phrase "sit down" at least once every three minutes and resorting to spanking.  Check out, open car door and let kid get in while putting groceries in the truck.  Return buggy to holder, tell kid to sit in her seat to buckle.  Kid tries to climb into front seat of car, grab kid, explain danger of playing in car, put her in seat, turn around because someone spoke, kid tries to escape, grab kid, hold into seat while buckling as she screams, "My do it my se---elf!!"

In our world with the three year old, everything takes three times as long and requires more patience than I can accumulate in three weeks.  Some days I feel like the only time I can relax my guard is when she is sleeping, which only happens briefly.  My BADkid spends so much time and energy getting into mischief and demanding things be her way that when she finally crashes, she is "throwed outta gear" like this.  (Yes, those of us living life with a transmission mechanic actually hear and use phrases such as that).

I do love this BADkid.  I sometimes even sit and chuckle as I think of all the cute, precious, funny things she says and does.  As I was finishing this post she woke up from her brief nap.  She stretched, climbed up in my chair, hugged me and said, "I wuv you sooo much."  Of course I said, "I love you soooo much too" as I silently thought "One day she will be four and "they" say I'll miss this, but right now I'm thankful we only have to endure 365 days of THREE!"

Just Add a Little Dash of Spice to Your Family!

About a month ago, I had a moment of temporary insanity. Meet the newest Dickerson girl--Dash.

Now, the first question we get when we introduce her is, "What is her name?" We answer "Dash" and get that famous "aww". However, we can all see on people's faces that they are really thinking, "uh, what the heck were they thinking?". Here's the story. Dash became Dash because Uncle Roscoe and Aunt Stacey have a small dog named Flash. Blake can't say "Flash" so, she calls Flash "Dash". The moment Blake saw the puppy, she started calling the her "Dash". Kennedy and Taylor were not excited about naming her Dash. They made lists of names, created voting charts, and even conducted oral surveys. They were serious about the name selection process. However, after about a week of trying to convince Blake to call her anything between Pippy and Peanut Butter, they finally gave in and accepted that the dog responds to "Dash" because she hears Blake say it about 2.6 million times each day.

Dash was kind of stinky the first few days, so she had to have a bath. We all knew she was tiny, but seeing her wet really made an impression on the girls about how tiny and fragile she really was.

BADkid and Dash have become best buds.  Well, according to BADkid they are inseparable.  I have a strong suspicion that Dash doesn't really care so much for BADkid most of the time.  Although we've had a few scary moments when Dash was stepped on, slung, or thrown, for the most part, she has acclimated to life with a two year old quite well.

Blake is paying her bills while Dash is
passed out

BADkid even trusts that sleepy dog with her corn dog

Can't you read this expression?  You mean
I have to put her down long enough to eat?

Yes, this is the "easy" hug, Mom

Shhh!  When she's like this is the only time
she doesn't run and hide from me

Pool girls?

Aww is all I can say about this

See the cloth book?  Yes, she held her down
and periodically turned the pages as she "read"
the book to Dash...it was the Christmas story!

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BADkid says, "Dash play me with your hello".  Dash's face
looks more like, "Hello!  Is anyone going to help me?"

No!No! Dash!  These are MY shoes! (But they're Taylor's)



Momma!  Dash got my shoes!


And with all fabulous productions, a grand finale is required.  This picture just makes me giggle.  I'm sure one day those of you with a two year old in the Henderson area will see this again in a senior slide show or something just as fantastic.  BADkid L.O.V.E.S. her Dash.  She truly believes that if she can do it, Dash can too.  Obviously now we know that she also believes that if Dash can do it, then she can too!  Enjoy!




Monkey See, Monkey Do



Babydoll Birthday Party

Back several weeks ago, Kennedy was driving me up the wall asking questions. One question that sparked a conversation and a brilliantly fun idea was, "Mom, when did we go to New York?" Irritated and short on patience, I said, "about this time last year". Her eyes lit up and she said, "Mom, my American Doll is one year old! We need to have a birthday party!" And the idea was born...

We went to the store and bought a cake mix and some icing. "Grandma" quickly called the other young moms to invite them over for the party that afternoon. Each mom (and one dad) brought her own baby to the party. While the babies enjoyed playtime in the kitchen floor,



the kids did this

and this

AND...the "Grandmas" had a much needed chat fest in the living room. Maybe we should've been keeping a closer eye on the cupcake festivities. Between six kiddos, they ate 17 cupcakes and applied about 8 dessert tattoos each. (Jessica, notice kennedy's bow and headband in the middle picture. Our kiddos have a lot in common!)

For the kids it was great fun..."planning" the party and they even got to practice reading and measuring when they made the cupcakes without my help. For me it cost $2 for the cake mix and icing and provided a couple of hours to visit with two of my dearest friends.