Part 2: Glamorous motherhood

I know I just posted about some of the ridiculous happenings at our house but there is just too much good clean fun on a daily basis to let time go by without further documentation. The stars have aligned for me today and both angels are snoozing soundly right now, so I've gotta get down to the point. Naturally as soon as they were asleep, I ran over to this here computer to give you the goods.

I had a dream the other day and I woke up in cold sweat from it. I was at this fancy celebrity banquet or dinner party or something, and I was the hired help. I was wearing black slacks (high waisted, pocketless bum- really flattering), a white collared shirt with a black bow tie in fact, carrying around a tray of delicious hors d'oeuvres, (btw, I just looked up how to spell hors d'oeuvres and the online dictionary I stumbled onto says, "Hors d'oeuvres is a French term for an appetizer. They can be olives, canapes, or pigs in a blanket." Pigs in a blanket?!? Who serves pigs in a blanket? And who says that anyway? Anyone? Thank you, I didn't know what appetizer meant. And by explaining they could include pigs in a blanket, I know exactly what you're referring to). In my dream I kept getting in trouble, because I kept sneaking into the kitchen to eat the food. I was way ashamed and kept thinking, "What is my problem?!" I was also in the back, feeling a little mopey because I'd just seen Cameron Diaz and I couldn't even act like I think I'm as good as she is (because I do think that), I had to just cower and keep my mouth shut and serve her. Then suddenly, this other waitress girl came in, gasped, and was like, "WHAT IS THAT??" pointing to my back. I looked back and much to my horror there was an oozing mustard yellow substance seeping through my clothes all up my back. I was trying to defend myself and tell them I didn't know how it got there, and everyone was way grossed out, including me. Apparently I'd had a little accident and didn't realize it, and apparently my diet had been strictly milk and/or formula. Hmm. If you've never mothered a newbie and don't know what I'm talking about, Scarlett is more than happy to give you a demonstration. Pretty much every single time we go into public, she'll give you one.

Can you tell baby blowouts are pretty much running my life these days? Enough to have nightmares about them?? Ridiculous.

Okay, next. I walked into the kitchen the other day and almost peed my pants when I came face to face with this little guy staring into my soul from the other side of the counter:

Creepy. This doll makes me jump and scream 5 times a day because at first glance I always think it's Scarlett, and that Lucy has finally had her way with her. Thankfully, it's only been this poor doll every time. As I cautiously approached, I realized it was a gorier scene than I'd originally concluded.

Poor thing's tied up and gagged with guacamole. At least she flung some in its hair as well to give it some extra shine.

Next, same night. I am closing down shop for the evening when I realize the garage door has been left open. As I'm closing it, I spot Lucy's tricycle out in our driveway. So I run out and grab it and pull it inside. Something tells me to check the top secret storage compartment under the seat. And this is what I find:

Our HD video camera stashed away for a rainy day. She keeps this behavior up, she'll be the family bread winner in no time.

Next:

Perusing the baby section in Ross Dress for Less today for a little fun when on my way out I take a stroll through the shoe section (can't help myself). I take 5 steps away from our cart to look down an isle and come back 5 seconds later to this:

Lucy was looking like her usual guilty self sitting angelically in the front seat of the cart, but it must have been 15 pairs of shoes throw in on Scarlett. And yes, she was drooling and doing her best to chew on one. And I put it back. So maybe if you're lucky, you could purchase that exact pair.

This happened just moments after I had been looking through some things and had overheard Lucy busting up. So cute when they laugh and play together I'm thinking. Until I notice a little dry heave sound going along with Lucy's laughter. So I walk briskly over to find Lucy shoving her fingers down Scarlett's throat, gagging her and having herself a good ol time. What the H is your problem Lucy?! I may or may not have said a little too loudly.

Among other news, this little angel has started rice cereal (so over the moon adorable when they're starting out):

...while this little angel somehow got the family size can of ovaltine down from the pantry and downed a few spoonfuls of the powdered mix, and apparently licked all around her lips while doing so:

These two sure ruin a lot of things... like books and carpet and their wardrobe and mine and so much more, but they make our house a home. Especially the crayon on the wall.

And P.S. One more for the road. I texted this pic over to Jason and my sisters the other day because these happen to be the squishiest, most kissable legs on the planet:

And I'm happy to report that both my older sister AND my husband thought these were my legs at first glance. Maybe they thought I was showing off some new swimsuit bottoms I bought, the Mickey Mouse diaper looking ones. Or showing off how toned I've become recently, only having one mid thigh and one ankle crease as opposed to many. Either way, I was flattered.

Coney's first cover!

Does this delicious little beaut look familiar to anyone?

Cuz it looks familiar to me. Real familiar. In fact, I think I've sunken my teeth into it many a time over and What-About Bobbed it every single time doing so. (You know the scene). I think my husband may have in fact given birth to this burger. And we couldn't be more proud or more excited!

That's right people. Coney's made the cover of Salt Lake magazine this month! Those of you who are FB BFFs with us might already know this, but among other exciting news is the second Coney's location we are opening up in American Fork, (right off the Main Street freeway exit) scheduled to open next month. The new location will be called Coney's Frozen Custard and gourmet dogs. (The dogs are coming to the Orem location too, don't you worry.) In fact, I was involved in some taste testing this week and can tell you these dogs will blow your mind. So to those of you hot dog fans out there - and I'm not talkin' Oscar Meyer crap - you better get ready. Because it's coming. Comin' to get you. In your sleep, with a knife in its hand. Just kidding. But it might.

It's crazy in our house right now. I feel for that husband and that father-in-law of mine. They are working 'round the clock these days. While Jason is home (a rarity), he's walking around with glazed over eyes, muttering things like, gotta be the Nathan's all beef... and freezing barrel mixes... smaller ice crystals... velvety smooth deliciousness under his breath. And he's become narcoleptic. The poor chap will sit down for a mere 2.5 minutes reading books like "The E myth Revisited" and this will immediately follow:

It would definitely put me to sleep too. When he's like this, it happens to be my favorite time to evaluate our marriage together and talk about feelings. This picture was taken 30 seconds ago in fact, so I think I'll go nudge him a little, give him a loud psssssst close to his ear, and ask him how he feels he's doing in the "meeting my wife's needs" department. Cuz I'm a good wife like that and I gotta keep us in check.

Anyway, if you haven't checked out Coney's, please be my guest:

www.coneyscustard.com.

Follow us on Twitter and Facebook!

And then go directly there and order a peanut butter burst. Oh my. Or wait for cherry amaretto cheesecake to be up as the flavor of the day. Or Coconut Joy. And get a cheeseburger. And a gourmet dog. And tell them you read this blog and you will get a lifetime supply of mayonnaise packets. Just go ahead over to the condiments station and pack your purse full of them... but don't let them see you do it. On second thought, maybe you shouldn't do that. But I can definitely lend you some mayo if you need some. Let me know.

Thanks for letting me toot our family horn. Love you!

Glamorous motherhood.

*Warning: Spoiler alert! And by spoiler alert, I mean if you and your husband are thinking about having babies soon, proceed with caution. Another warning, this will most likely be incoherent rambling. Because I'm half asleep as I sit here. You would be, too. Don't you judge.*

She looks innocent enough, right? But not enough to me. Because I'm nobody's fool. Not even her fool. It's tempting though.

I said, "no-no" a total of 738 times today. I'm starting to get annoyed hearing myself say it. I considered telling her "no-no," in spanish, my other lingo, but it's the same stupid thing. Ugh. I don't want to be at war with my two year old. But she's learned to fling herself out of her crib these last few days, and she is out before I even hit her bedroom door. So nap time and bedtime have been SOOOO fun at our house. Who am I kidding, there has been no nap time. Because I can't keep putting her back into her crib...over and over and over for a solid 2 hours straight and keep my sanity. Sometimes she will even trick me. She'll be silent for like 10 minutes straight. And I'll think she's fallen asleep. And then I peak in on her from my phone via her bedroom camera, and will find this:

Yeah she definitely looks like she 's on her way to slumberland.

Then it's immediately followed by this:

And I hear a thud and know she's jumped out.

We've also tried resorting to this: (Note mother's legs on the floor).

But it's also proven unsuccessful. She won't jump out while I'm in there, but is simply too thrilled with having me sacked out on her bedroom floor to even think about laying down herself. So we've been scuffling and in the end, turns out she hasn't been napping at all these last few days. Which means by 5:00 pm I have a VERY surly little mini on my hands. (Crib tent should be here by tomorrow. Hope it's here by tomorrow please).

So after said 2 hours of WWEing it with Lucy in her crib this afternoon and coming away frazzled and defeated, I'm changing Scarlett's diaper and I find 3 whole undigested craisins. (You're not a good mother unless you're inspecting the contents of the dirty diapers of your infants, didn't you know?). That's right- craisins. They are hard to miss in a strictly breastmilk fed baby. She's 5 months old people. Looks like we are skipping rice cereal and heading straight for the dried fruit. Almost as easy to digest as mom's milk. And then I have to sit there, close my eyes and count to 10 in my head. More like to 150. And I wonder how on earth this could happen and how it could be humanly possible for me to keep an even closer eye on Lucy than I'm already doing. And I'm feeling my eyes well with tears, thankful tears to the Lord that there wasn't a choking incident with these craisins. And frustrated tears because my patience is running on empty. Running on fumes by this point. And exhausted tears because Lucy came into our room in the middle of the night last night. (Would not stop crying, poor thing had a tummy ache I think, and as soon as she was loved up and calmed down and back to sleep, Scarlett was awake and crying. They are both really congested right now, so it's a ludicrous number of times we're waking as of late).

And as I sat there shedding those tears for all those reasons, I ate the craisins.

Just kidding. I can't believe you thought I'd do that. You crossed the line, you're so sick!

Oh, also among today's activities- Lucy climbed up into my linen closet and dumped out the contents of my sewing bag all over the floor. Needles and safety pins everywhere. And then when we were on the go running errands I got her a happy meal for lunch and she dumped the fries and chicken nuggets all over the back seat of the car and started pointing at it all, saying, "no-no, mommy!" Oh and sometimes I put Scarlett in Lucy's crib for her naps when they don't overlap with Lucy's (less commotion in Lucy's room so she gets a decent nap in) and today I was trying to just go pee, (CAN I JUST GO PEE WITHOUT THE HOUSE BURNING DOWN?!) and I finish up and look in on Scarlett to see this:

followed by watching Lucy jump in basically on top of her and then I hear Scarlett immediately start to wail.

Just look again at wee little Scarlett laying there peacefully and unsuspecting. Oh my heart.

And that's about when I turn into the Hulk and shred every last article of clothing I've got on.

Seriously? SER-I-OUS-LY. I have nothing more to say. Just that I'm going to bed already. And dishing myself a heaping bowl of ice cream to take to bed with me. And then once I've licked my wounds and licked the bowl clean I'm spooning it all night long.

P.S. While this little morsel is in fact innocent and angelic, she is picking up some cool tricks. Like having blow outs that run down her legs while simultaneously spitting up all over. How does she get the timing just right?! I'll never know.

P.P.S. I'm not complaining. Even though Lucy bullies me and mocks me all day long lately, she also takes the initiative and tells me she loves me 12 times a day. And I was trying on a really unflattering swimsuit the other day and she was thrilled with it. Gasped and ran over to me, reached up and started rubbing my tummy and saying, "So pretty mommy!" over and over. She didn't think the backside view was nearly as good, but still. And Scarlett is an angel child. Growing like a weed. And squeals and shrieks happily all day long. Even though when we went to Vegas I wore a huge spit up patch on my shoulder and down my back all day long and to dinner and didn't even know it. And I didn't have her with me. So it just looked like a bird flying over nailed me with perfect aim. (Way to be on that, husband!) Just want you to know I'm not complaining, because when Jason tells me to stop complaining, nothing enrages me more. P.P.P.S. Lucy is starting to really make her little sister laugh. Almost as much as she makes her cry. So we're headed in the right direction. Oh, and if you are thinking about having kids, you should. We of course are having more as well. A whole load more. The little dears.

Another quick story, and then I'm wrappin' this up! I was in the Wal-Mart parking lot the other day loading the car feeling like quitting my life because Scarlett had been screaming the whole time we were in the store and Lucy had been standing up over and over again in the cart when a little elderly lady came walking by us. I was hand wrestling Lucy at the moment, trying to unload our cart and Scarlett was still crying. She asked if she could take a peak in the car seat and then she got really emotional. Really, she started crying right then and there saying how beautiful my girls are, and that what a beautiful little family we had and, "Here I am crying because it's so beautiful! You're a beautiful mother! And doing a great job!" I was so caught off guard that I didn't even know how to respond so I did what any other woman in my shoes would do. I said nothing and stared at her blankly and then as she turned to walk away I yelled "thank you," after her and then burst into tears myself.

Onto my ice cream.

Birthday Bliss

I turned 27 ten days ago. It's been pretty awesome so far, since I've been 27. I can tell people respect me a lot more than when I was 26. I mean 27 sounds so adult doesn't it? Like I should know how to balance my checkbook or something. But I don't think anybody does that anymore. So I guess I don't need to know how to that much. It seems like all my life whenever I've heard of other people being 27, I've thought it was a pretty legit age. Too legit. 2 legit 2 quit. So I guess I won't quit.

Jason whisked me off on a lover's getaway to Las Vegas and treated me to a Chip-N-Dale's show! He had prearranged a dance special with him as the main star of the number! And man, let me tell you it was really somethin'. It reminded me a bit of that scene from the movie, The Proposal, you know the scene don't you? With Oscar from The Office? I'm sure you're not surprised at all if you know my husband, he's totally an exhibitionist like that.

Actually, what really went down was a whole lot of rest and relaxation! And some shopping! (Biggest Forever 21 in the world!) And food. It was perfect. We went down from Thursday night til Saturday and spent most of our time lounging by the pool or sleeping in our hotel room. I felt sortof lame, because hubby suggested we go to a show but I had to decline. Both nights I was debilitated by a food coma and knew I'd be snoozing in no time had we gone. I insisted on going back to the hotel room and ordering a movie and doing some good husband/wife spoonage instead. So that's what we did. And I don't regret it. If you are a MOAYB (mother of a young baby), you dream about days like these.

The funnest part about being back in your room by 9:00 pm while in Vegas is telling random people at the airport what you did while you're both exchanging What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas stories. And they are still really hungover. And you make it sound ordering a movie, snuggling, and getting 7 hours of sleep was the craziest, most-bad-to-the-bone thing you've ever done. And then they look at you like they smell something really bad. And then you point off in the distance and say, "hey, what's that?!" And eat some of their french fries when they look away.

Regrettably, we forgot our camera. Unacceptable, right? So, much to your dismay I'm sure, I have no pictures to show you of us sleeping in our hotel room. But I do have a few phone pics to share of us hoovering food. None of us together though, because it's kinda ghetto to ask someone to take a picture of you with your phone. So the food pics are mostly me. A little embarrassing, but it was wonderful food. And picture worthy.

First birthday surprise:

Crepes. Nutella and banana crepes. We had one of these sweethearts in Paris right next to the Eiffel tower when we were first married. So it's a little sentimental. Jason wanted to just share one instead of ordering his own and I quickly dissipated any romance by nearly headbutting him for the ludicrous suggestion. He tried to tell me I'd never be able to finish off my own. But I proved him wrong. And the victory was sweet. The victory dance, even sweeter. By my last bite, everyone had gathered around me, chanting my name, and I was a sweaty, soiled mess. I asked Jason, "What do I get if I finish off every last bite of this?" to which he quickly replied, "About a pound," and then had a good chuckle. Then he told me I should blog about what he said, so people know he's funny. So there's a little reminder for you folks.

Then that night we went to the Capital Grille. (I told you it's fancier with the unnecessary E on the end.) I've mentioned this place before, but it's worthy of mention again. SO good. We love it. And look at this cute little birthday card that was waiting for me at our table! With a check inside for $5,000. Talk about good service. Thanks CG!

Have you had this coconut cream pie? I promise it will change your life. Jason even said it makes him feel all tingly inside. And it takes a lot for him to get all tingly.

We got home to find our babies perfectly unharmed in their cribs where we left them. Who says you even need to hire a babysitter? ha. My parents and Vanessa had been staying at our house so you know the party isn't over yet.

Nessa made me a very special, very personalized birthday cake, and even had an elaborate joke planned with putting "28" candles on the cake instead of 27. She's so funny. She'd planned out an entire scene of complete horror and humiliation for me. She even had all my friends and family members write down 3 things they would change about me if they could, and compiled them into little booklet for me to keep. Some real zingers in there everyone! You got me so good!

But I ruined her cake joke. When I prematurely found the 28 candles in my pantry, Vanessa became fiery hot with anger. There was some profanity exchanged, and I finally got her calmed down by telling her she could put 82 on my cake instead of 28, and that would be an even funnier joke! She got a little happy about that. And even happier when I told her she could kick me in the shins. So funny that sister of mine.

Thank you wonderful husband, thank you wonderful family and friends who made this year's birthday truly unforgettable!

I hate the fair

... and the demolition derby. Before you start calling me a Debbie Downer and being like, "What?! The fair is SO fun!!" just cool your jets and hear me out. I used to think I really liked these things. But I realized that any time that you combine lots of cigarette smoke, smoldering heat, the stench of farm animals and me, that's a recipe for a pretty tense scuffle. I say what I must say with caution, because being an Idahoan, this could warrant a public jumping where I'm from. Maybe I'm becoming a priss. Or maybe it was just this particular day, because all elements of the universe were conspiring against me. And maybe the state fair is a little better because it's closer to the fall. (I think it's going on right now, isn't it?) Well this post happens to be about the county fair we went to a few weeks ago, and I think on the day we went the temperature was roughly 150 degrees. And there were beads of sweat running down my furrowed brow for about 7 straight hours. And my back.

I know my husband grew up on a farm and eventually wants a few chickens of our own someday, but I've come to realize that farm animals really sick me out quite a lot. Honestly. Again, being in this barn when it was 150 degrees and all muggy inside didn't help my love for them. Or the fact that there were animal feces and urine everywhere and Lucy couldn't keep her hands out of her mouth, just chewin' on her fingers for some reason. And that's a battle a mom can't win.

Look at how flushed her little cheeks are. I'm telling you, 150 degrees. As soon as an animal would pee it would immediately evaporate into steam. Steam that we humans would sit there and willingly inhale. Lucy sure did love those animals. I had to get out of there pretty fast though.

She even got to go on some rides. Look how elated she is. Despite the fact that the little missy sharing her cart is full of loathing and disdain. And PS, another contributing factor to my overall fair dislike: the fair employees frighten me.

Once we tired of the animals and rides, we got hungry and I didn't want to stand in an hour long line for a funnel cake. So we spotted a little BBQ shack across the street. And while we were trying to make our way there, minding our own business, somehow we got wrangled into doing the following.

The best part about riding a mechanical bull is how while you're being peer pressured into riding it, and contemplating the possible pros and cons of riding versus not riding, there is not a soul in sight. And then once you are good and mounted on, a crowd has suddenly gathered and starts hooting and hollering.

A good action shot of my dearest:

And down for the count:

I think that little lady standing behind her little mechanical bull controls took a liking to Jason, because she started trying to buck me off rather aggressively as soon as I climbed up.

But I jumped ship before she could. Beat her at her own game. And then I ran over, got in her face and yelled, "You tryin' to make a fool o'me?!" And everyone surrounding us started chanting, "fight! fight! fight!" That didn't really happen. But you can imagine what it'd be like if it did.

After our 4 seconds each of fame on that bull Jason and I limped across the street to eat dinner. I also think you should know that Jason pulled his groin getting bucked off and was sore for several days following. So worth it.

P.S. What they don't tell you about riding a mechanical bull is that the real secret lies in holding your toes in the most gnarly and unattractive position possible. We both decided early on that this would be our strategy- and we'd been practicing holding our toes like this for some time. Let's take a closer look:

Pretty awesome.

SO, the day is about to get a lot better people. I'm already chapped and surly from the heat and stench of manure that has made its permanent home inside my nasal cavity when we get to Lon's BBQ. We have a 3 wheeler jogging stroller and I try to get in the door, but there happen to be 2 steps up that lead in, and lots of people all around. Jason walks in ahead of me and I proceed to nearly tip that stroller over like 3 times and wrestle it into the place, swearing under my breath while onlookers sit back and enjoy the show. No it's okay... I got it... really... no, don't offer to help, thanks. I'm still sweating profusely. Then we get inside, and it's fun because there is no AC in the place. And then while we're trying to order, Scarlett starts to wail, and has a huge blow out. Like, one that fills her car seat completely and soaks her entire outfit. And the waitress still hasn't brought a high chair so Lucy is climbing all over the place and spills the salt, which adds to our bad luck. Then her daddy throws the salt over his left shoulder trying to redeem his daughter and it hits some tough lookin' trucker in the head named Sea Bass, and he picks a fight with Jason. Trying to get out of the way, I swoop Scarlett up, and trying not to cover myself in baby doodie (the word we use in our house) as well I run to the bathroom ASAP when I fling open the bathroom door only to realize it is a one person tiny stall and someone is comfortably perched upon the toilet already. Then I get the door immediately slammed in my face, as if I would have stood there and watched and not closed the door myself. (Anything more awkward than walking in on someone sitting on a toilet, people? Anything??) So I run outside and have to change Scarlett's diaper and strip her down in the parking lot. I go back in to Jason and demand the keys to the car, tell him I'm going to the car to nurse our hungry and tired little lass, and that,"I can't take anymore! Just bring my food to the car!!" I go to the car and blast the AC, Scarlett falls asleep and I watch a little Lion King while I wait. I want to stay there in the cool air all night long. But no. There is more fun to be had.

After I finish eating my dinner from the to-go box, (slopping pulled pork and brisket all over my face because utensils are not included), I try to mentally prepare myself because we have tickets to the demolition derby.

The exciting part about the demolition derby was that we had front row seats. And by front row seats I mean you get to have a steady flow of exhaust fumes wafting straight into your face and the face of your small infants for 3 uninterrupted hours. And on top of that you get dirt sprayed up in your face from the tires. So worth it to pay more for the front row seats! Highly recommended.

Aside from my bull riding, this is the only other picture that was taken of me the entire day. I guess it was apparent I wasn't in a picture taking mood. You can kinda see the furrowed brow here.

I DO NOT want exhaust wafting into this face and into that little precious nose and into those tiny perfect lungs. No siree Bob.

So, it's getting to be towards 9:00 pm, and in my head I'm wondering when this personal hell I've reached will come to an end. I tell Jason that Lucy is about to start convulsing from exhaustion and that we should head out (I'd been a good sport for some time watching these people in their cars ram into each other over and over again) when our dear brother in law Steve offers to just give Jason a ride home so he can stay for the women's events! Holy Freaking Awesome! The women's events!?!? No way!!! And Jason hops right on board with that idea. So I assure him that it's fine if he stays and that I won't be mad about it, even though I go into complete shock that he actually believes me and simply says bye bye with a smile on his face and pats me on the tush as I leave. And I venture home with both girls; exhausted, SUPER cranky, covered-in-dirt girls and put them in the bath and to bed myself. Both are wailing the entire time. Fiery hot with anger. And I of course am cursing my husband's name. And my brother in law Steve. And the County Fair. And all mechanical bulls, everywhere. (Don't you worry Steve, I forgave you long ago. And thank you for bringing my husband safely home.)

So, just let me hate the fair, even though my husband will most likely drag me along to the State Fair soon. Don't try to convince me how awesome it really is. I liked it when I was a teenager and I sang at it. But even then, there were some awkward moments because we were singing R&B and most of the people there were there to see Def Leopard. And then riots almost broke out because they really started to want Def Leopard. Me and the fair just don't really mesh. Never have, it turns out. There are lots of things I do like though. Like air conditioning for example.

A love triangle: tomatoes and kitties.

Remember these little garden boxes that Jason built for me? And the itty bitty baby plants that I planted inside them?

Turns out, a little sunshine, a little water, and some good earth is all plants really need to grow. Who knew? As weeks passed, our itty bitty garden quickly became this:

And our yellow squash in fact is quickly becoming this:

Bullying the other plants into submission. It's already tried to eat Lucy once. We're pretty sure it will try to digest the house soon. Can I donate some yellow squash to any of you? I'm being serious. We have too much. If you'd like to exchange some of mah yellow squash for some of your nothin', you've got a deal. That's what I call a bargain. And again, being totally serious.

So, Lucy loves tomatoes. Loves to pick them and eats them immediately, like an apple. Has even developed an innate sense for when they're really ready for her to pick (The red ones only! RAARRR!!). She has a real special knack for living off the land. She even told us she'd like to start going by "Katniss". Two year-olds.

She also loves this kitty. (Remember this post? From about 6 months ago?) Well yes, this on again-off again love affair has been on-again for quite some time now. Despite her mother's warnings that neighbor's kitty is just not that into her and she's just an easy place for him to fall back on, she goes back again and again. And way too eagerly for my liking.

Look at her, showing him around her garden.

I was trying to tell her not to follow too closely and to give him his space, but alas, there was yet another scuffle between Lucy and kitty the very next morning. And another battered arm resulted. And again, I chased that cat away barking and howling like a dog. Temporary rage took over me. He was lucky I didn't catch up to him. But he was afraid. I could see the fear in his eyes. He ran like a little girl. I mean, not like my little girl. But he ran. You know what I mean.

The saddest part is that she covers for him. I overheard her telling the other neighbor kids that she got the scrape falling off her bike.

Cries to mom behind closed doors... saying, "kitty mean!"

But she reverts back to warrior princess outside, determined to not let her personal relationships affect her work tilling the land.

The problem is, she doesn't know how to healthily express her anger and frustration about the abusive relationship she's in. The tomatoes end up getting the brunt of her wrath. Poor, poor defenseless tomatoes. Gory remains I found the other day on our counter top. Gory indeed. (I really did find this tomato exactly like this. Except when I found it, it had a little piece of paper pinned to it labeled "kitty".)

P.S. Please take some of our yellow squash! I mean, not in the middle of the night while we're sleeping or anything. But let us give you some. Please.