I have been known to tell my children that “life isn’t fair, a fair is a place we go to ride rides and eat funnel cakes.”  This year of Babe Ruth Baseball has totally brought that home to me. Connor plays on a team with 13 other boys,  with ages from 12-15. Connor has played baseball since he was old enough to toss a ball, it really is his game of choice.
     He has played Cal Ripken Little League, Middle School Ball, High School Ball, Tournament Ball and Babe Ruth. As you can see his life revolves around baseballs, gloves and bats. This is the last year that he will be eligible to play Babe Ruth, he will be too old next year. He is one of the senior players on the team. Yet he has spent time warming the bench this year, so that the 7th and 8th grade favorites of the coach can play.  That is above and beyond not fair, that is just true sorry coaching.
     I am not looking for my son to be given anything other than what he is due. He is a great shortstop and second baseman. He has been hitting the crap out of the ball, and when he gets on base you can bet your butt he is gonna steal bases and score if given the chance.
     15 year olds have paid their dues to play every inning of every game in this league. Next year if they play they will have to be at the bottom of the barrel playing Mickey Mantel. Connor loves the “Great American Game”,  but has chosen not to play Babe Ruth Tournament Ball this summer, because it means playing for this coach. So in the span of one season you have destroyed baseball for him. Congratulations, for a job not well done.

   

    What is the fascination all of a sudden with women choosing not to shave?  I realize that our bodies belong to us and we don’t have to impress any one else, but really ladies. Unshaven armpit hair stinks!!  No amount of anti-perspirant or deodorant can mask that stink.
     It is warm, now June, almost July, that means sundresses and tank tops and halter tops abound. Not to mention bathing suits. With the lack of clothing please do us all a favor and make an appointment with your razor ladies. No one wants to see your armpit hair, or your unshaven legs. And for the love of all that is holy please don’t post your hairy armpits or legs on Facebook or Instagram. No one wants to see them.

     I was in the liquor store yesterday, purchasing my favorite beer. My favorite summer beer is an odd one, and I will be the first to admit it.

A beer that tastes like grapefruit juice with a kick, my hubby sticks his nose up at me and says it is foo-foo beer.  I picked up a six pack and before I carried it to the counter I picked him up a six pack of this

It tastes like Root Beer with a kick, no fruit involved. No sharing involved either, problem solved!🍺🍺☺;)

  

     I have come to the conclusion that someone knew what they were doing when they made sure boys had both Moms and Dads. My youngest son is the epitome of a whirling dervish, being still is torture for him, and his father completely feeds that energy.
     In the span of 6 short weeks he has fractured his ankle and sustained a concussion. The fracture occurred during baseball practice and the concussion occurred this Monday during Gym while playing baseball, and to think I am worried about him playing football next year, at least they will give him a helmet and pads.
     While his Dad feeds the energy, and can’t understand why he is supposed to rest his injured parts. I am the one telling him that he has to rest his injured ankle so it doesn’t develop arthritis. What 15 year old cares about arthritis?  And I am now telling him that he has to rest his brain.
     A teenage brain is still “cooking”.  He needs to rest it, so that he can properly heal, that means sleep, minimal eye and brain stimulation. I know what it means, but now try putting it into effect with a 15 year old that can’t be still. He is sure that I am punishing him and at this point can’t understand why he can’t go to school until next Monday!!  His Dad though I love him just doesn’t get “Concussion Protocol”, and thinks I am being ridiculous. I just roll my eyes and tell him that he has probably had many concussions, and maybe that is why he is like he is👀👀.
     Knowing that I am doing the best for my kids, makes it right, even if I have to fight with the hubby about it. He may get it some day, but until then I will keep doing my thing.

  

    My oldest son graduated from High School on Friday, well to be specific he graduated from a Regional Technical High School. 4 years ago when he decided this was the path he wanted, to say I was not impressed would have been a mild understatement. My vision was a child who graduated from a “standard”  high school, and then attended college. To hear my first born tell me that it wasn’t his plan hurt me deeply. Wishing and hoping something is true wont make it so though.
     Four years later, last Friday night my oldest walked across the stage to receive his diploma at FCTS in the Plumbing and HVAC Department. He is OSHA 10 Certified, First Aid and CPR Certified, and Uponor Certified (which is a specific kind of PEX Tubing).  I couldn’t have been prouder, even though it was not the initial plan I had envisioned for him.
     He has learned the value of hard work, is learning a trade, and has made his Dad and I proud along the way. My best friend told me before his graduation to enjoy the day and the moment, that this day was just as much about him as it was about his Dad and I and our achievement as parents. When I look back over his 12 years of school plus 2 years of pre-school. I can’t help but think she is right.
     Good kids don’t raise themselves, they are raised by good parents. Parents that tug and pull and prod through 12 and sometimes more years of school to get them where they need to be. Parents who truck them to baseball and football and golf practices. Who figure out the summer schedule a so Mom and Dad can work and the kids have a safe place to be. Parents who are happy when they are old enough to be left home alone, but terrified when they learn to drive. Parents that are willing to help along the way, but don’t shoulder the entire burden, because kids need to understand how tough the world is, just not all at once. I am proud to be one of those parents, I raised 2 good kids!!!:)

     When I was pregnant both times I asked for girls, I truly did. I wanted a house full of hair ties, make up, glitter, fun clothes and alas drama. Both times I was blessed with boys, my hubby says it is because he only carries Male sperm, whatever the reason. I am surrounded by way too much testosterone in my house.
    When I go clothes shopping I am thankful that my wishes weren’t answered. My boys live in jeans, t-shirts, some with questionable sayings, shorts that are long enough they really could be Capri’s. Sneakers, they swear that their feet don’t need air so they refuse to wear sandals, and tank tops or muscle shirts once it gets warm enough.
     When shopping I never have the fight of, “no you can’t wear that it doesn’t cover your body parts.” I have more of a fight to get them into nice clothes and out of their Chippewa boots and baseball hats if we are going somewhere that the occasion demands it.
   So for all of you mothers of teen girls, I envy you the fun clothes and prom dress shopping that you had, but at the same time. My drama in regards to clothes is way less. Oh I have other drama, trust me on this, drama that you don’t even want to know about, but at least their body parts are covered.

Any one who knows me, either casually or really well knows I LOVE my Fur Babies or as my friend Erin calls them Fur Beasts of Doom. I talk to them, cuddle and snuggle with them and mourn terribly when they cross The Rainbow Bridge.
I have rescued 2 cats, Oreo a Maine Coon Cat. Who only liked me and hissed, growled and hid from every other family member. I tried for years to get him to be social, but it just wasn’t meant to be. When it finally was his time to go, I held him and cried, big ugly sobbing tears. Whoever threw this big beautiful cat away made him what he was. Scared of the world, and only able to feel safe with me. For that I was both grateful and furious. Grateful that he could feel safe with someone and furious that someone just discarded him because they no longer loved him.
As a family we went all summer with just one cat and a dog. Moon Trouble, Connor’s cat that is more like a living stuffed animal and Cooper my Golden who is just a love. Finally in October Precious came flying into our lives. Literally!!!!
Kyle was having his Senior pictures taken at an abandoned barn about 1/4 mile down the road. We heard a rustling sound over our head and a cat shot out of the rafters. 3 days, 3 cans of cat food and 1 have-a-heart trap later she was snuggled in my lap. The vet estimates she was about 6 months old, and someone just tossed her away.

It took a bit of convincing for Mark to be sure he loved her, but not me. I knew I loved her from the moment I held her. Her name is Precious but with everything she gets into it really should be Satan.
I have absolutely no understanding of people who throw away animals, they love you unconditionally, and all they expect is for u to love them back. I believe there is a special place in hell for those kind of people, and no I don’t even want a day pass!!!

     An Open Letter to my Husband and Teenage Sons:

Dear Testosterone filled males in my house, please cut it out. When u carry on at the dinner table and get all wound up over things that really are inconsequential. It makes the knots in my stomach twist like a Merchant Marine who needs a refresher course.  Add to that the stomping of the feet, the slamming of the dishes and the doors. Those knots get tighter and tighter with each temper flare.
     My sons I realize you are trying to find your way in this world, to break out from the cocoon, stretch your little wings and fly. And dear husband that knowledge is hard for you to swallow, but at least you can (you don’t have Merchant Marine knots).
     So please remember before you stomp and have your testosterone infused fits. Look around and realize. This is a learning process for all of us. Kyle your graduation is coming like a barreling freight train, Connor you already own a car that you can’t yet drive. Just take a deep breath, finish dinner, clear the table and talk to each other in pleasant tones. My stomach and my digestion will thank you. Because if Mom starts to stomp and slam, no one will be happy!

   

      My best friend tagged me in a Huffington Post Column a few days ago. This is nothing new we tag each other all the time, but this column really hit home. It was  discussing how best friends who no longer live geographically close have changed their relationship. That is us in a nutshell, we met in college and by all rationalization we shouldn’t be friends at all. I am the analytical left brain, line things up so they make sense person. She is the emotion driven right brain lets talk this out person. Yet we clicked right from the first semester. Studying together, partying together, going to NYC together for New Years Eve (boy that was a night). She has helped me through more heartbreaks than I can remember, and the feeling is mutual. We know each other’s secrets, and will keep them forever. We lived together for a year after college and found that we are pretty good roommates too.

     We have been through weddings, a divorce, the births of my boys, she is the first person I called after both sets of parents when both of them were born. She is and always will be Aunt Kathy. When I moved 2 hours away I knew that the telephone would be our best friend and we would have to be diligent to keep our friendship afloat.
     With cell phones and Facebook and Twitter we are even better at staying in touch now. But truth be told nothing beats the mid week drinks after work just because I am gonna lose my mind and I need my BFF. Or lunch on the fly cause we both have a spare 2 hours on a Sunday afternoon. Now those things have to be planned way in advance, figure in 2 hours of travel time. But there is never a quiet second in that lunch or dinner, because we are both talking, catching up unleashing all the stored stuff since the last get together.
     Geographical distance may change our friendship, but the memories remain, and the reason as to why we are friends never will!

    

      I have been watching the news reports for 2 days about The Duggars’.  Let me be upfront here, I am not a fan to begin with. The whole 19 kids, the fact they do a reality show, but don’t have a TV in the house, all of the kids are is homeschooled so that Jim Bob & Michele can control what they learn (ie more religion and less math and literature) They are proudly part of the ultra conservative religious right movement, and try to cram it down everyone else’s throat in a passive aggressive way.  All of those things grate on me, like sandpaper on sunburn.
     In their blog, which is as sickeningly sweet as the syrup used to make snow cones Michele claims that the family “is not part of the Quiverful Movement, ours is an Independent Baptist”. Semantics people, they sure sound the same to me.  She has the younger children and then the older ones raise them, because she is too busy probably from making the TV show that the children can’t watch, because TV isn’t good for you.
     Michelle and Jim Bob preach that persons that are LGBT are pedophiles and abusers of children. So that begs the question…”Is Josh gay?”  Under their preaching and religious beliefs he must be to do what he did. In their way of living their daughters don’t choose who they date on their own. Dad will pick who they date, their is no hand holding or kissing or anything before marriage. They obviously have very little to no sex education, so I understand the curiosity of young children. What I do not understand and can not condone is the way that his parents covered up the molestation.
     Shipping him off to work with a contractor as a form of therapy, not allowing him to return home until the statute of limitations was up. The only State Trooper that he spoke to about it is now serving 56 years for Child Pornography, that seems awful coincidental to me.
     I don’t want harm brought to the Duggars’, I just want them to come down on the high horse that they are on, and that is beginning to occur. Josh has resigned his position with The Family Research Council and “19 Kids and Counting”  has been cancelled by TLC.  What I want most of all will most likely never occur, for Josh’s victims (his sisters)  to get the counseling and help that the need to work through this.  We as viewers are only learning about this because a tabloid leaked it. That is the price that you pay for living in the fishbowl of fame. Ask Bill Clinton, Jimmy Swaggert or Tammy Faye Baker and they can tell you all about it.