THAT Family Tree Society-Issue 56

Picture of the Week:

The Week in Review: I’m so thankful we were able to keep ChaCha! We hit the jackpot with this sweet doggie!

Introduction into The Society: Welcome Under $1000 Per Month!

1. Tell us a little about your blog (name/reason why you blog):
My blog is called Under $1000 Per Month. My husband is going back to school, as well as working with a reduced income. We’ve learned a lot about who we are and what is important to us, as well as a ton of money savings ideas, and that’s what I blog about.  

2. How long have you blogging? 
About a year, but on this blog, only two months.

3.  How would you define THAT family? THAT family is unashamed of being a little different. We enjoy our lives and don’t care who sees it.

4.    When did you discover you were a part of THAT family? 
I was taking a nap with my babies (aged one and three) the other day, pretty normal. I woke up alone,the apartment was silent. The first thing I saw as I entered the living room was a chewed up broken crayon. Then, the sight of chewed up toilet paper, all over the floor hit me. And we don’t have a dog. My toddler had fed it to the baby! I knew that we were THAT family.  

5.  Where can we find your blog?

Let’s Blame It on the Bird Poop

We are THAT family, now with live video footage.
Let me set this up: Little sister has learned to twist herself on the swing. Big brother wants a turn to show her how to really do it.
{Please ignore my  hubby laughing at the end of this short video. He chuckles when he’s overcome with compassion for our injured children.}
P.S. At the very end, my son says, “That would be funny_________” but the video camera cuts off.
P.S.S. Let me fill in the blank “That would be funny on Mom’s blog!” He’s right!
That kid makes lemon-aid out of lemons, every time.
{Can you stand one more P.S.?  I nearly pee every time I watch this clip!!!!}

Another Patent in the Making

I know I amazed y’all with my first Patented project.
The Vented Chicken: It was awesome.
Well. Apparently my genius is not limited.
Because our last trip with our toddler, sparked a new idea.
We have a couple of rules in the car. Number One: Keep the toddler buckled.  Number Two: Keep her happy. 
The first one is non-negotiable. The second is more elusive.  We all know the pain of a screaming child, so we try. We offer lollipops, toys, band-aids, DVD’s.  
Even though we have been working on weaning the pacifier, at one point, it became our last resort. 
But after dropping it into the abyss of our crowded mini-van countless times, I nearly lost my Salvation and broke an all-important bone, called My Spine, leaning over the seats searching for it.
We needed a miracle.
My hubby holds it in his hand (while driving carefully, of course):

We reached a new level of pathetic parenting with this, but it worked.
Rope tied to Pacifier: Patent Pending

In celebration of MckMama’s ‘Not Me’ Monday, I DID NOT do any of the above, it was only created for your reading pleasure. 

This is Where I Consider Changing the Name of My Blog

Sometimes, I don’t want to be THAT family.

Take Monday, for instance. I took my toddler to the doctor because she had a scary-looking dime-sized ulcer on her face, near her eye.

As we sat in the packed waiting room, I tried in vain to contain my busy girl.  She was everywhere. All at once.
Just as she was about to push the Handicap button on the door again, my sweet friend Cheryl, walked out of the office.  We stopped to catch up on what brought us to the doctor’s office.
Parenting tip:  Don’t turn your eyes off your toddler, even for a second.
Because when I turned back around, I found my daughter and the contents of my purse in the middle of the floor, in the middle of a busy waiting room.
And do you know what she was unwrapping?
An emergency Maxi-Pad.
Oh. Yes. She. Was.
Just as she way eyeing a place to stick the giant ‘sticker,’ I grabbed it and shoved it back into my bag. 
My dear friend laughed.  (She knows we’re THAT family and sticks around anyway).
I’ve never been so relieved to hear my child’s name called back to the examination room.  I needed a place to hide.
Unfortunately, my daughter took the best spot.

Oh, and she has Staph. But I’m looking on the bright side because it’s not the flesh-eating kind.

WARNING: Here We Come

The other day I needed to go by the bank and deposit a check.Harmless errand with toddler in tow, right?

Hehe (insert fake laugh here).

When I pulled into the parking lot, 420 other people had the same idea. 
So, I decided to outsmart everyone and do my banking at the ATM machine. I pulled up and reached for the deposit envelopes. There weren’t any.

In my frustration, I pulled away slowly, leaving my ATM card in the machine. 
I think a normal person at this point would have stopped their car, gotten out and retrieved said card. At least that’s what my hubby said a normal person would do.

But I backed up into the narrow ATM aisle since no one was in line behind me.
Now, I won’t go into my backing issues. But lets just say I am not a good backer-upper.

On hearing a crunching noise (and I’m pretty sure laughter), I didn’t look back. I found a place to park and wasted the next 30 minutes begging for a new card.

And that’s when I made a monumental decision.

You know, considering our reputation as THAT family. I’ve been feeling sorry for our local Emergency Room, eating establishments (add bank to the list) and the overall general population. 
I’ve decided to let people know we’re coming…It only seems fair. 
I just consider it a warning. And this is what I’ll be wearing when I go pick up my replacement ATM card this week:

I know many of you are related to me. We’re like family. And that’s why I’m sharing. You can warn people too. But my shirt is occupied. You’ll have to get your own.

And if you are bold enough to wear one, all profits go to
The Persecuted Church.

Once I got home, I noticed the fender of my car. 


Do y’all think the glue gun can handle this?

They Will Let Anyone Be a Mother These Days

Thank you for allowing me to repost a few of my favorite posts from my Archives on my old Mac blog.  This was originally posted in March.

I was wandering down my daily blogroll when I came to this post by Heather J over in Jirkaville.  It was riveting.  

I was un-bathed.  Pajama-clad (actually I lost my pj bottoms somewhere along the way of rushing my older kids out the door) so, I was half-naked. My priorities were in order:  I was reading other people’s business before I took care of my own.

My one year old sat in my lap while I worked on my laptop at the kitchen counter.   My baby likes to dig thru the drawer while I blog away. 

As I intently read, I was moved to tears by Heather’s post .  My daughter started squirming, so I sat her on the floor.  She had a plastic thingy in her hand.  At least that’s what I thought it was.

4.5 seconds later, she started screaming.

I whipped around and IN-SLOW-MOTION-BECAUSE-I’M-A-SLOW-THINKER, I realized that the said plastic-thingy was SUPERGLUE.


With teethmarks.

I scooped her up and ran to the kitchen sink.

These words are FLASHING in my head:


My daughter’s hands were covered in Superglue AND her lips were glued closed.


Let me just pause and LET THAT SINK IN.

Baby.  Lips.  Glued.  FOR ETERNITY.  Jesus, help me.

I’m crying, she’s crying, I’m splashing water on both of us. Praying for help, begging for forgiveness. It did dawn on me in a surreal way, how perfectly still my child became.  She knew it was bad.  And I think she was hoping for another adult to arrive. 

The warm water and a little pressure helped part her crusty lips.  THANK GOD.

She didn’t ingest the glue and that seemed to be very good news.

I nearly passed out when I heard the key in the front door.

A host of heavenly angels ushered my dear hubby into the kitchen in search of something he’d forgotten.  He saw the superglue, our crusty, sticky hands and his baby’s lips and took over.

I googled, “Baby lips and super glue.” Which I’m sure helped Child Protective Services hone in on my whereabouts.

And I’m sure this was an internet first.

According to reliable resources, acetone is the enemy to superglue.  It’s the kryptonite to the Super mega adhesive.

Thank GOD, I paint my nails.

We dipped cotton into nail polish remover and scrubbed.  My one year old perfected her dirty look and my husband didn’t even ask how it happened.

Which now, I find disturbing.  He returns home to find his daughter’s life in mortal danger under my care and it doesn’t even surprise him.

We cleaned her up as much as possible.  


“I’ve got to get to work,” my husband said as he grabbed his jacket.

“What?  You can’t leave me.  I cannot be trusted.  It’s not even 8:30 a.m and I nearly wounded your baby,” I said as I grabbed his pant leg and held on for dear life.

He smiled at me.  And left.

I checked on that girl 432 times during her morning nap.  The entire time I couldn’t help to think about the wisdom of these words:  KEEP OUT OF THE REACH OF CHILDREN.

And, all I have to say is they will let anyone be a mother these days.

Get ready for a fun giveaway on Monday! Hint: Take a picture of yourself in your apron because the Apron Queen is visiting THAT family! Really-get your pictures ready!

Where Everybody Knows Your Name

I almost didn’t tell you about this.

But I knew you, my dear, faithful readers, would understand.
Because you know me.  You know my kids.
And you can completely understand how it is entirely possible to end up in the Emergency Room. Twice.  In.  One.  Week. (Actually, about 5 days, but who’s counting?)
Oh, I wish I was kidding.  I thought about not sharing this because, you know, you might think I was serious about the name of my blog.
I mean, I wouldn’t want you to think we really are THAT family.
But. We. Are.
We met my parents for dinner at one of our local favorites.  We cleaned our plates and let the baby join the other kids in the game room area.  She was having a ball, sticking her hands in the gum ball machines and eating off the floor.
She sauntered back over to our table, crawled up on the picnic table seat and with all four adults watching, she slipped through the space between the bench and the table and landed head-first on the concrete.
The hit made a sickening sound.
I jumped to grab her and smeared ketchup all over my hands.  So, when I picked her up, my family thought she was bleeding.
And it probably would have been more of a relief to see a small gash.
Nope.  Nothing.  
Only a pale, screaming child, who began vomiting from her head injury.
I’m so not kidding.
And she couldn’t walk.  We let her stumble around for about 12 seconds and decided an ER visit was for dessert.
My parents took my older kids home and the hubby and I sped to the hospital.
They rushed us back to triage to check her pupils and look her over.
The nurse recognized me.  From my visit on Father’s Day.
So did the Doctor.
By this time, our toddler was acting more herself (as in dumping the contents of my purse onto the floor).  
As the Doctor tried to decide whether or not to sedate her for a CT scan, the nurse commented on our frequent visits.
And so I said, “Yeah, we’re like THAT family.”
I thought my hubby was going to choke on his own saliva.  Later he said, “My word, why didn’t you just pull out your laptop and see if the ER had WiFi, so they could read today’s entry!”
I told him I couldn’t help myself.
They gave our toddler a bag of cookies and  cup of apple juice to see if she would continue throwing up. 
She didn’t and she enjoyed the snack.
They sent us home with stern instructions to wake her up every few hours all night long and return if she vomited or her stumbling grew worse.
We signed off on all the papers they shoved in our face as the discharge nurse called, “See you in a couple of days for stitches.”
That’s verbatim, people.
And the receptionist encouraged us just to ‘come for coffee next time if we really wanted to see them.’
Yeah, we’re pretty much gonna have to move.  To another town.  Immediately.
*Update* Our toddler showed no further signs of a concussion and after we berated ourselves for our negligence, we all slept happily ever after. The End.  Until the next time…