My Apologies to the Public

You know the old saying..."What goes around, comes around." Our children have definitely proved to us just how true and vindictive this saying can be. During all my hissy fits concerning awkward public encounters, I've failed to mention the many, many kind words and encouragement I also receive. I'm hoping by correcting my attitude toward the public, we won't have quite so many "mishaps" in the future.

I am so touched when those innocent bystanders who are plowed over in the grocery store by the Hudson Storm, look back at me, smile and say sweet things such as, "Oh, Honey. Hang in there. They'll be off at college before you know it, and then you'll be wishing you had someone in the store with you!" Or, my favorite recently, was the older gentleman who was bagging my groceries simply stated, after staring for just a moment at our three wild boys and then hearing the cashier ask me the sex of the baby in-utero, "Ma'am, the good Lord wouldn't give 'em to you if HE didn't think you could handle 'em." Sweet comments such as these are what help me to face another public outing with The Hudson Storm.

Lightning recently caused quite a ruckus at our local breakfast hang out. Bert had all three boys, waiting for our to-go order of country cooking. The place was packed. Being early in the morning, most of the restaurant's patrons were sipping coffee and reading the paper, QUIETLY. That description is important, to help you all understand just how embarrassing the following was.... An older man walked in the door, and headed to the counter to place his order. Lightning spotted him from across the way and immediately ran to him, squealing with delight back at Thunder and pointing directly at his head, "LOOK! LOOK! His head is BALD!!! It's a BALD MAN!!! LOOK! HE'S BALD!!!"

Bert came home and declared he would no longer be taking our boys out in public, for at least the next 10 years or so. Who can blame him??

So, it's moments such as these I am left to ponder the old saying, "What goes around, comes around." As well as, "What came first, the chicken or the egg?" Do we have encounters with those who know no social boundaries because we deserve it? Or do our children seek vindication on our behalf after being berated time and time again during our family outings? Either way, I'm going to try and keep my mouth shut in the future.... Ummm, yeah, sure I will.

That Pumpkin Patch may never be the same.

The Hudson Storm recently hit our local pumpkin patch. I'm pretty sure the "Gov-a-na" (as Governor would be said in our town) should have declared a State of Emergency for the patch and all who were in attendance with us...

What, you don't ballet dance while trying to find the perfect pumpkin??

Petting zoos are fun, especially when they are included in the pumpkin patch price. Hail kept saying, "Don't bite me, doggies!" to these GOATS.

Sweet bunnies....

After wearing ourselves slap-out, and finding the perfect pumpkin for all, even for our new

(yes, he's still nameless) baby, we headed home.

Here is the proof we made it home with four (and a half) pumpkins...

I need this proof because when it was time to carve our pumpkins, one suddenly went missing. You can just imagine who it belonged to. I went out back to get the carving station ready, and sent all four children through the house to get their pumpkins from our front porch. Hail was the only one who returned pumpkin-less. Our questions began then, "Honey, where is your pumpkin?" Hail, proud as punch responded, time and time again, "I throwed it! I throwed dat pun-kin! I throwed it! I THROWED IT!" Clapping his hands, only becoming more excited and proud each time we would ask, "But WHERE did you throw it?" Hail, "I DID! I DID THROWED IT! I DID THROWED DAT PUN-KIN!!!" We searched the entire house, inside and out. The thing is GONE. I'm sure it will turn up eventually... rotted to the core and smellin' awful.

Losing Hail's "pun-kin" was probably for the best. By the time our state champion pumpkin carver finished with the three big kids, we were all pretty tired of it and ready to light a candle.

And here they are... Bert did a fantastic job, if I do say so myself. I'm proud to introduce (from left to right) Wolverine Man, Incredible Hulk, and Snaggles, designed by Her Highness, who has a wiggly tooth.

Keeping in the Fall mode, this is what I saw out of the corner of my eye while loading the dishwasher one day....

Hail kept putting his foot to his face, then laughing hysterically. May sound crazy, but this is not an unusual occurrence in our house, as all of our children love to smell their own feet, then squeal about how bad they stink. The smelling process is only complete when another family member can join in, taking a whiff, then agreeing, "Shoo-wheee! Your feet are stinky!!"

As I headed over to take part squealing, "shoo-whee" I realized why Hail was so amused.

"Want sum', Momma?! Want sum' my candy-carn toes?? Eat it! EAT DOSE CANDY-CARN TOES, MOMMA!!!!"

As cute as those lil' candy-"carn" toes are to me, I somehow managed to resist snacking on them.

Happy Fall, Y'all!

Mrs. Bindi Sue Hudson.... we'll see about that.

It's no secret, Thunder has a HUGE crush on Bindi the Jungle Girl. He's mesmerized from the start of her program, until the final off-key, white girl rap song is done. It is a cute show, I must say. Very informative, if you want to learn about every reptile (past and present) that has walked the face of the Earth. The child can't dance, and really can't sing, but for some reason her producers ask her to again and again. Dancing or not, Thunder is quite smitten.

Could have something to do with the fact that they have an awful lot in common....


The other day while we were watching an episode, Thunder said, "Momma, when can I get a pet snake? See, Bindi's snakes are sweet, Momma, so you wouldn't have to be scared. If it's a pet snake, it is sweet to you." I responded with something along the lines of "In your dreams, kid."

Right on cue, as if our hard working Grounds Keeper (aka: Bert) had been eavesdropping and waiting for the perfect time, we heard a knock on our front door. I opened it to see this nasty guy hanging out in a bucket. "Where are the boys?" Bert asked excitedly.
Boys and their toys.

"Hey guys! Come see what Daddy found in the yard!" I screamed back at them. Thunder, who got there first, jumped up and down as if it were Christmas morning. "SEE! SEE MOMMA!!! I told you Daddy would get me a pet snake!!!! Where are we going to keep it?? I'm going to name him Sam. Give it to me, Daddy! THANK-YOU! THANK-YOU! THANK-YOU!!"

As you can imagine, it took a while for us to convince him that the timing was coincidental, and the snake would NOT be entering our home. The boys spent the rest of the morning like this:

Thunder's love is not just limited to the slithery subjects of life. He's a true animal lover all around. Turtles, frogs, worms and such just happen to be what he finds around the house most frequently. And what I find the most disgusting.

The kid is a nut. He'll touch/hold/pet anything that is laid before him. A few weeks back, Lightning noticed a dead possum close to one of our bushes in the front yard. Before Bert could get it bagged up, Thunder begged to touch it. "I just wanna see what it feels like!" GROSS. What a boy thing to ask.

So, it's the common love of all things gross I feel will bind these two together. A classic story really... Bindi the Jungle Girl meets Thunder the Country Boy. I'm scared to see what would happen if the two reproduced. Monkeys would probably come out. Backwards evolution.

All of this can only happen of course, if Bindi minds her p's and q's and some how manges to stay away from the childhood star trap. I have a slight feeling she'll end up like the rest though... poor girl. She'll be washed up and out to dry by the rightful old age of 13, leaving her starving for attention of any kind. Which always leads to super decision making-- By age 18, she'll be on the cover of dirty magazines, with giant snakes draping across the necessary parts. Bindi the Jungle Girl Gone Wild. Which will probably only increase Thunder's love for her.... Oh, what a world.

It's like having five of the people you love most in this world in the bathroom with you.

I'm not sure how to take random stranger's comments these days. Maybe it has something to do with being extremely hormonal. Or, maybe it's that I've had my fill of ignorant comments and just don't know how to take the random back-handed compliment any longer. I'm just to the point, that it's almost become a mission of mine to help the public understand, people with large families have heard it ALL before. And just like your Momma used to say (or should have said), "If you don't have something nice to say, don't say anything at all."

Thursday evening we were enjoying a fine dining experience with all four kiddos in tow. We ventured out to the local Chikalay (Chick-fil-a) after taking our wild animals to a school carnival. We were all tired and starving. I'll admit, the Hudson Storm was a little wired from all the cotton candy and other refined sugar garbage they had consumed, but overall, all four children were pretty well behaved. It was going to be a super quick dinner. We sat them down, plopped their nuggets in front of them, and wolfed down our own sandwiches, with very little conversation. The usual took place, "No jumping in the booth, please.... Yes, you will eat all your chicken before you can go play..... No, you're not getting a coke. You're going to drink that water because it's better for you..." (and because we're cheap and hate to pay $2 for a drink that you'll only take three sips of and throw in the trash.)

I'm a people watcher, so of course I had already taken in the families around us. None had more than three kids. The fancy-shmancy couple behind us had only two. I have no problem with folks who have only two children. And I don't mean to say "only" as in, "oh, you have it so easy." No. That's not the case at all. Matter of fact, I tell people all the time that going from one to two was my hardest transition. I laugh about that now, but seriously, once you learn how to juggle two, the rest are a cake walk. A cake made of poop diapers, but a cake walk non the less.
Back to the fancy-shmancy couple....

They had only two children, who were GIRLS ages around 6 and 8. Let's face it, girls at those ages SHOULD BE very easy to control. And again, we're in a Chick-fil-a for crying out loud. Not a fine steak house, though their daughters were dressed for such, in matching monogrammed dresses that I would be nervous to send my princess to church in for she would surely decide that magic markers were a must and ruin the thing. When we were finished, Bert and I gathered Her Highness and The Storm, and things fell apart... As they always do when you are trying to pry four children ages six and under from Nugget- Playground Sanctuary. "But I don't wanna go!!!.... We didn't even get to play for very loooonnnngggg!..... I wanna milk shaaaakkeeee!" Were just some of the cries coming from our booth, as Bert and I struggled to get eight shoes back on squirming feet. We finally got our stuff together and headed for the door. The fancy-shmancy lady behind us gave me a half smile, then made the comment (quite snootily I might add) "I'm just watching you thinking, I need to quit complaining about only having TWO!" as she motioned to all four children then back to my 8 month pregnant belly.

What should I have taken from that?? One of my friends suggested that it was meant to be a compliment, and perhaps she was in awe of how we handled such a feat. Though, we don't see it a feat, but that was her point, I suppose. Another good friend laughed hardily and said, "Nope, she was trying to say that y'all don't have control and you should quit having kids." That's what I took from it. And honestly, I don't care what others think. I'm just trying to decide if it's time to quit being the sweet, southern belle I was raised to be and start playing the socially awkward card that so many others feel free to use, as their gums go a flappin'.

For me, it's like this.... I hate to be using the restroom and have all four kids come looking for me. Each with a different request, "Mommy! Where are my crayons?...... He hit me!!!..... Can we go outside?..... What are you doing in here???...." etc. And no, our bathroom door has no lock on it, or else I would use it, duh. When Bert's not home, I usually try to shew the kids away (pun intended). But, if he's here, I call for back up. Often, as he comes to my rescue and forces the kids out, he chooses that moment to tell me a few things himself, "Babe! You gotta come see the score of the Auburn game!! Oh, and is that parent/teacher conference tomorrow? I may have to meet with a client that same time. Can you go by yourself? Seriously, Auburn is now LOSING. Can you believe that?"

What I can't believe is that I'm trying to get some business done and all five of you are in here!!! Completely oblivious to the fact that I could use some privacy not to mention a little more personal space. But, the fact that all of you are treating me as if I'm sitting in a lazy-boy recliner and not on the porcelain throne should be taken as a compliment. You all love me enough to be here, well, for this event and not care. So, even though I should be screaming like a banshee, I'm going to take it as a compliment. But still, remind all of you to "GET OUT! And close the door behind you."

Maybe I should just carry around matches and light one each time a stranger says something goofy to me in public. And when they ask what in the world it's for, I'll simply say, "To clear the air."

Birthdays, Babies, Best Friends, Ball Games and Bad Dreams Part II

Much like last time (click here, Mom)... we've been busy. That's the Hudson way, we are boring and quiet for a few weeks (uh, sure). Then, we cram as much excitement into a single week as we possibly can.

Hail celebrated his second birthday.

Super cute home-made cake props of our dear friend, and surrogate- Aunt Dr. Pepper. Hail was so excited he blew his candles out before the first part of "Happy Birthday to You..." was over. Bert had to re-light them, then Hail blew them out again. So, at the end of the song, knowing some type of action must take place, Hail decided to LICK the cake. The monkey theme was quite fitting, and continued throughout the night... as Hail decided to ride one of his favorite gifts in his birthday suit.

And here is another gift from the wonderful Aunt Dr. Pepper. She said as a pediatrician, she had all kinds of issues buying a passie for a two year old. However, once she saw it, she couldn't pass it up. You can see why... This is now Hails most favorite passie, and he will wake in the middle of the night screaming, "Where my DEBIL-ASSIE?!" Thanks, Dr. P. And yes, Hail actually calls it an "assie."

Someone else celebrated a birthday recently as well. I'm not going to mention any names, but this person turned 32.

Happy Birthday, Babe. We love you very much. Just don't go all Jon Gosselin on me and claim that you were too young to know what you were getting yourself into... yada yada yada. That's a joke. Obviously.

I really don't give Bert enough credit for all he does around here. He's definitely the glue that holds us all together. He's a super active and involved Father and a fun husband. Wow, I'm a lucky girl.

I have an excellent support system. Not only is my hubby the best, but so are my gal pals.

They threw me a surprise baby shower! I thought just a couple of us were meeting for dessert for one of their birthdays. Turns out, even though it was actually her birthday, the party was for me and all of these great girls showed up to celebrate baby #5. We had such a great time. I love to laugh until tears are streaming down my cheeks, and that's just what we do when we're all together. LOVE YOU GIRLS!!!

My best friends have continued to allow our kiddos to get lots of practice before our new (still nameless) baby arrives...

To end our busy week, we made a trip to watch Bert's little brother (who is now taller than Bert) play football. He's #44. It's so hard for me to believe that he's already a sophomore in high school. When Bert and I first started dating, Sawyer was only FIVE years old. Time flies when you're having fun...

No, that's not my sister-in-law... that would be Bert's MOTHER. Yes, it is his biological Mom, and no she was not a teenager when she had him. She's a hot Grandmama! Am I jealous? ME? Of course. I would love to fit into her jeans now... not to mention when I'm... Okay, Gwen, I won't do it... I'll just say, a Grandmother!

We had a great time cheering on the Royals. Even if they did lose... their Homecoming game.

I will end this lengthy post with a bad dream. Mainly because I did the one I mentioned above, but also because I think it's blog worthy...

I recently had a dream, rather a nightmare, that I was one of the Duggar sisters. Not an in-law, mind you, but a blood sister. (Let's face it, blood is thicker and scarier in this case, than kool-aide.) In my dream, I was truly the black sheep of the family all because of my horrible attitude toward being present for Josh and Anna's home birth. I kept telling Michelle, "But I don't CARE if he's my brother!! I don't wanna watch a baby come out of her yee-haa!! GROSS!! Please don't make me go! PUH-LEASE!" And Jim Bob was all, "Now, now, you're not being a good example to the younger ones. You need to be there for they are our family." I woke up in a cold sweat. Seriously. The dream disturbed me that much. Or was it the "Grand-Duggar" episode that disturbed me that much?? Either way, I couldn't get back to sleep for quite a while.

Shew.

Country's Come to Town

I never realized just how country Bert and I were until our children learned how to speak. Each time one of our babies have ventured past "dadadada" and "mamama" we've gotten to hear just how thick our southern drawls must be. All one syllable words come out at least two, sometimes even three. Example, Hail will spot a dog through the window, "I see-a daw-gg! De-er dat daw-gg is Mow-mma!" We're so proud. As I said, all of our sweet southern babies have done it. And they seem to ease up on it some by the time they become fluent in English. I'm sure it's due impart to listening to the yanks on shows like "Max & Ruby" as whiny Ruby scolds her brother constantly. Whatever. My point is, it quit sounding quite so thick for a while, at least with Her Highness and Thunder.... Until Thunder started writing and Her Highness learned how to read.

They are constantly cracking us up with the way they think things should be spelled.
Her Highness wrote a report for school about fire safety. One of the sentences read, "In case of a fire CAW 911." She was reading a menu yesterday and got stuck in the beverage section on the word "tea." "What is that word?" We (Ma & Pa Kettle) encouraged her to sound it out. "Te-A? I've never heard of TEE-AAA, Momma! So what is it? Daddy, what does that spell??" We finally gave in and told her it was tea. "Well, why would it be spelled like that?!" After pondering over her own question for a moment she quizzed us again, "Shouldn't it be spelled T-E-Y?" Ma Kettle joined in, "Well, why Honey?" To which she replied, "Because, it's te-ya! T-E-Y. TE-YA." Pa Kettle then had to explain that tea has only one syllable, not two.
Gotta love the South! Don't get me wrong, I love living here. And I love all of our traditions. I just had no idea when Bert and I opened our mouths, a mix of Johnny Cash & Paula Deen was coming out.

And speaking of the South... could someone please fax over the memo letting much of the Southeast know that it's time for Fall weather? I'm so over this humidity. And it's time for a nice hard freeze so the "bu-ugs" and "skee-tars" (as the Hudson House refers to them) will all die. I've been furious with PETA all summer after learning our city would not be sending their huge trucks that spray all the local areas for mosquitoes, all because in the past, a few random birds died. And apparently the birds we saved this year didn't populate enough to consume the extra "skee-tars, " cause we've gotten "eat up" every time we walked outside. Die you little bugs, die. Eat it, PETA.

My final complaint is against the entire nation, not just the south, and is totally random. It's not intended to offend, but maybe it should.... Who made skinny leg jeans a new fad? And, before you go to buy a pair, please look HARD in the mirror. Skinny leg jeans only look good on 11 year olds and women who weigh less than 100 pounds. Period. Boys look super sassy in them, if you get my drift. Maybe that's what the Jonas Brothers are going for. Either way, it's just plain wrong. Don't do it. Hello, GAP is reselling all the tapered jeans that went out of style in the 80's, and just renamed them "skinny-leg." Seriously, truth hurts, but it could save you from total embarrassment. Don't do it. Granted, I'm no fashionista, but I do have 20/20 vision.
Step away from the skinny-leg pants.

Seriously??

Have you seen the commercial for this new Barbie? Well, most of you probably don't leave your tv tuned in to Nick Jr. the entire day. This commercial seriously cracks me up. It's the next Barbie in a series of "I can be..." and it actually says in the commercial, and on the box "BABY DOCTOR." Also known as a PEDIATRICIAN!!!! Are you kidding me, Barbie?? Heaven forbid we teach our kids the correct terminology. I mean, as long as you look cute, right? I know in the past, "math class was tough." Apparently, so was English.

And check out her wardrobe. She's missing her pants. The napkins they give you to cover up with at the OBGYN's office (or should I have said "Mommy Doctor") cover more surface area than that. Yeah, that's just how I want my "Baby Doctor" to walk in and examine my child.
I guess the upside would be that Bert would finally offer to take our kids in for a well visit.

Sheesh.

There was an old lady who swallowed a fly...

I DO know why she swallowed that fly! But, let me back up just a little....

Every morning I have to re-heat my coffee at least three times. I pour it as soon as the coffee maker is finished with my fresh brew, then I let it sit for just a second, so not to scald my mouth. Most mornings, I head right back to my cooling cup of joe, right after my first attempt at waking Her Highness, take a few sips, then set it back on the counter as I walk back to Her Highness' royal chambers to threaten ice cold water if she doesn't awaken from her beauty slumber. Go back, grab my mug again, take a few more swallows, then fix Her Highness' hair. By this time, the coffee is too cool, so I nuke it for about 12 seconds. That's all it takes to get it back to the temp I prefer.

You can imagine the other interruptions to my morning affair with that sweet cup of coffee...

Me: "Yes, Momma will get you more Cheerios/Frosted Flakes/Cheez-Its (yeah, so. Some mornings I'm all about picking my battles... and some not so much.) But only if you quit whining."

"Please get off your brother. He was sitting there first. Yes he was. Matter of fact, he's been in that spot since he fell asleep last night. So move!"

Lightning: "MOMMAAAA! I'm DONE! Come wipe MMMEEEEEE!"

Me: "Okay, hang on! I've got to finish making lunches."

Lightning: "But, my feet are tingling!!! COME WIPE MY HINEY!!!!"

Her Highness: "Momma! Do I HAVE to wear that dress today? It's a baby dress!! Puh-lease don't make me wear that!"

Lightning: "MOMMMMAAAAA!!!! NOW I CAN'T EVEN FEEL MY TOES!!! ARE YOU COMIN'???? I NEED YOU TO WIPE MY HINEY!!!!"

Her Highness: "Oh, NO! Momma, we forgot to do this part of my homework. Can you help me?"

Thunder: "Momma, today we're supposed to bring four things that start with the letter T for show-and-tell. What all can I take?"

Me: "Well, apparently your brother's toes are tingling, you could take him."

Bert: "Hey, Babe. Do I have any clean underwear? There's none in my drawer... again."

Me: "Check the dryer! Nevermind, I don't think there's any in there either. Just go get in the shower and I'll dig through the pile." (Of clean clothes.)

Hail: "HODE ME!!! I WANT CHOCK-A MIK!!! I WANNA HODE YOU!!!!"

Me: (With Hail now on my hip) "Where's my coffee? Anybody see my cup? Y'all are gonna be late! Get your shoes on! No, you don't have time to brush teeth! Just rinse real quick with water. Get your shoes ON! BERT! She's gonna be late AGAIN! Hey, is her backpack in your car or mine?? HEY! I SAID IT'S TIME TO GO!!! Has ANYBODY seen my COFFEE CUP???"

Finally, Her Highness gets out the door with her wonderful chauffeur, who I've been calling Mr. Mom. One of the many perks of being his own boss, Bert has really spoiled me this fall by driving the carpool, not only in the mornings, but most afternoons as well. So much so, that one day when he had too many meetings scheduled to help out, I got my days mixed up and headed to Thunder's school, when he had already been gotten by my fellow-carpooler. The teacher's aide did not even know who I was or why I was there!! I'm looking around, quite confused and becoming worried since I didn't see my precious red-head sitting on the sidewalk, and the perky college kid says, "Hi! Can I help you, ma'am?" I explained I was looking for my SON and introduced myself. She laughed and said, "Right, he's already been picked up by C's Mom, since it was her turn to pick-up." I'm sure they all think I'm mother of the year.

Back to this particular morning though....

With Her Highness finally out the door, I get our Storm settled into a rerun of Scooby-Doo, refilled all chocolate milk cups, passed out a second round of dry cereal, started a load of laundry, then grabbed my cup from the counter, nuked it once more, and plopped down at the kitchen table with Bert, who was already back from carpooling.

I take a pull, from my much needed at this point, coffee cup. Somethings not right. Coffee doesn't have small chunks in it. But, no worries just yet. Countless times I have gone to take a sip of something, only to find tiny objects floating in my glass/can/flask. Barbie shoes, pieces of cracker, missing parts to Transformers, just to name a few. Only, this time, it felt different. This was definitely nothing of the plastic sort. And it certainly didn't disintegrate, like a cracker should and would after being dropped in luke warm coffee. No, no, my gag reflexes were already beginning to tell me this was something quite foreign to my tongue. I swabbed my finger to get it out, and immediately began gagging.

The look on my face must have said it all, as did the finger I was waving to Bert, with the tiny, wrinkled fly on the tip. Tears streaming down my cheeks, I ran to the kitchen sink and dry heaved several times. Bert came across the kitchen, choking himself, but only because he was holding in a belly-laugh. He held my hair back and fanned my face as I gripped the sides of the counter and continued my vomiting charade. Nothing ever came up, except the fly. And I finally calmed down enough to gag again and scream, "THAT'S THE NASTIEST THING THAT'S EVER BEEN IN MY MOUTH!! EWWWWWWWW!!! GROOSSSSSSS!"

Bert finally let out his belly laugh, sounding much like that of an old, crazy man who spends his entire day rocking on the front porch. The Hudson Storm had come to be my audience and marvel over the fly, which had been flung to the back of the sink. "Momma! Why did you eat that?" "Momma, are you okay?!" "Daddy, that's so funny isn't it?! Mommy tried to eat a fly!" "Momma, can I hold it? I wanna see it up close though. Why did you put that in your coffee? Well, how did it get there???" Just a few of the many questions I've answered... ALL DAY LONG.

This afternoon, Thunder came over to discuss the grossness once more and said, "Hey, Momma. It's kinda like that song we used to sing. You know, there was an old lady who swallowed a fly...." It's been stuck in my head ever since.