My brother, a father, has never seemed to figure out the key to little kids. He does a great job with them, but I doubt he even knows it. He has a power of intrigue about him that the kids love! He’s a cool guy and the children love him! They always have – when we were younger, and I needed help with a baby-sitting job Paul stepped in and went to work for me. He baby-sat two boys, who were about 8 and 4 years old. They had a blast with Paul! They played and goofed around and even break danced to Michael Jackson! (This is where Paul blew out his knee… All MJ’s fault!) Anyhow, the point is when I returned to my baby-sitting job the boys asked for Paul to come back! But, even way back then Paul was uncomfortable around small children and did not want to return – plus, it was my job and my money! (a little selfish) Now, as a father and an Uncle he has the children in the palm of his hand and has no idea! His daughter is older now and he relates better to her now that she’s 9. My boys were all over him! Though he let them, and I know he enjoyed them, I could see the awkwardness he suffered through. He loves his nephews and it was clear when he played with them – even when Sam (4 years old) was naked!

My brother also has no problems avoiding the subject or flat out lying to the children to get them to do what they need to do. Father’s Day, Scott and Sam, Paul and his daughter (Keirra) went to ride the train in town. Sam loves the trains! He never wants to leave them – NEVER! So, when it was time to go home and Sam said he wasn’t ready, Unca Paul stepped in and said, “We’re just going to the bathroom; you can come back after.” Scott just looked at him and laughed. Then, when Sam was talking about babies and how Jack came out of mommy’s tummy – my brother quickly said, “You know babies come from Sears!” Then, at dinner one night, we were talking about some show on tv and the word “sperm” came up. Paul’s daughter looked over at him and asked, “What’s sperm?” and my brother answered, “Something you buy at Sears.” I wonder if Sears knows how much they have to do with spawning?

Sammy really loves his Unca Paul! Unca Paul is cool with pirate style tattoos and a motorcycle! Although, if you ever met my brother on the street you would never guess him to be a tattoo wearing, motorcycle riding bad-ass. (look at the picture) Sammy was role playing while we were visiting with Unca Paul and he assigned us all titles… I was the “Mommy” Paul was the “Daddy” Jack was the “Baby” and Sammy was the “Uncle.” He had his “cell-a” phone in his pocket, just like his Uncle, and he walked around and acted just like his Uncle. It was really cute! Later, when Unca Paul came over to our house, as soon as Paul walked through the door Sammy was yelling, “Uncle! Uncle! Uncle!”

I love the fact that my children love my brother – who wouldn’t? It’s equally important to me that my brother love my children. Paul goes out of his way to play with them and talk to them and spend time with them. He may not to know what to do with them, but he puts effort into being their Uncle. I just wish he lived closer so he could be around his little fan club more – that includes me!

Sammy says, “Happy Father’s Day!”

…with his “Squinty Face Syndrome.”

We had gone to the airport to pick up Unca Paul this morning and Sammy wanted to take his daddy and Unca Paul on the local train ride!
“Squinty Face Syndrome”still had a hold of Sammy’s expressions.

Unca Paul begs his little fearless nephew not to jump off the moving train!

This guy doesn’t look like he’s enjoying Father’s Day too much…
He too seems to be inflicted with “Suqishy Face Syndrome.”

Cannot forget about the itty bitty! Jack wants to wish his daddy a Happy Father’s Day too!
Although, a little hard to speak with cracker mouth…

Sammy is cracking us up! His questions are so pure and his brain is so hungry to learn about everything. Sammy wants to know the answers to the universe and I love that about him! I really hope he never grows out of this inquisitive stage. Sam is also finding himself, and his name is very important to him. I call him Sam often, and he’ll correct me, “Call me Sammy Schrantz!” He won’t talk to me until I back track and say, “Oh oopsie, Sammy Schrantz, where are your socks?” I love that about him too – how could I not? He’s who he is and he has empowered that! Go Sam! Oh… I mean, Go Sammy Schrantz!

Sammy’s question of “Why?” can go on forever, but my favorite “Why?” question is when Sammy sees someone with a baby and asks (every time), “Why do you have a baby so much?” After the targeted person tries to answer that, Sam will hit them with, “I have a baby! His name is Jack!” As the targeted person starts to say something about that being cute, Sam has forgotten what they answered about having a baby so much and will hit them again, “Why do you have a baby so much?” That’s when the targeted person looks to us with “Help me!” screaming in their eyes. I think Sam is trying to figure out why so many people have babies – and not just his own family. Questions for the universe!

Talking about questions for the universe… (cover young eyes) I was in the bathroom, and anyone with little kids knows that is no longer a private place, and Sammy wanted to know if I was going poo – because I was sitting down. He announced to me, “Pee is for standing and poo is for sitting!” So, I came back with the facts, I am a girl and girls sit to pee. I continued with the fact that boys have a penis and girls do not. Sammy, now very intrigued, said, “Boys need a penis to pee standing and girls need a virgina to pee sitting?” I was proud he understood, “Yep.” Then Sammy hit with a one two punch to the funny bone, “Mommy, do you have a hairy penis?” If I wasn’t already peeing – I would have peed my pants! I told him I did not – don’t want bizarre rumors going around if Sammy leaked out that his mommy has a hairy penis! I then told him to go ask daddy – because I wanted to share. He, so proud of himself, goes running out into the living room yelling, “Daddy! Mommy has a hairy penis!”

This 70′s retro building is where I spend most of my time throughout the year. I am sure at one point in History people said, “Wow, what a groovy looking school!” Now, thirty-two years later all you hear is, “When are they going to tear it down and build a new one?” The fact is that the school is not doing so well on the inside… I know, surprise – right! I mean from the groovy wooden panels on the exterior you would never guess that inside was going to hell. The building looks okay – it’s what’s lurking within the walls that will make your skin crawl. Earlier this year there was a busted water heater, and water came pouring out of the ceiling, flooding a lot of that main building there. It was so bad we had to miss a day of school while folks tried to clean her up and dry her out. They wanted to protect us all from mold exposure and so they sprayed some chemicals all over to prevent mold from growing…. My question is, “What about the mold that was already there?” We came back to school and spent the week thinking the awful smell in the building would go away… Then we waited the next week… and the next… and the next… My point is that the smell never fully went away – and while we sat in the teacher’s lounge and ate our lunch we felt we were being poisoned. While teachers taught in the classrooms closest to the flood, they breathed in mystery air. Yep – so the building looks real groovy from the outside – inside might be killing us…. in more ways than just the mystery air. *dun, dun, dun!*

A light at the end of a dark damp tunnel was that yesterday – yes, a Monday – was our last day of school! (the students anyhow) It ended on a Monday – because we needed to make up a day for the missed flood day… I won’t go there. As I walked out of the groovy retro 70′s building, and felt the freedom I had been waiting all year to feel, I heard a tune in my head that went a little something like this, “SCHOOL’S OUT FOR SUMMER!” I was free from the complaining kids who are never happy no matter what! I was free from the people who never get what I do and I am sure never will – not that they want to. I am free from retro stinky building that will, I am sure, be waiting for me. I am free to spend time with my family – something (oddly enough) the school district frowns upon. And after next year I will be free from this job that has consumed my life for the past seven years. I’ll be back you old retro bitch – but not for long! You cannot take my soul… Okay – that might have been a little over the top. *wink*

All together now – “SCHOOL’S OUT FOR SUMMER!”

My cousin and ME at her place…
(Smile for the camera!)

Throw a couple mothers into the mix and you get a cousin sandwich!
(my Aunt is on the left and my mother is on the right)

This ALWAYS

happens when we get together!

Some kind of weird chemical reaction to our genetic build-up…

“I Love You”

(sign)

Hello Mr. Kitty in my wild rose bush!

My mother has this habit of random kitty cats wandering into her house looking for food. They are always super cute – but what kitty is not? – and she always gives into them and feeds them! A big “No No” because once you feed a cat – they ALWAYS come back! The largest problem here is that my mother has two kitties, “Stinker-Bell” and “Sparky” who live in the house and do not like the idea of new kitties invading their territory… Quite understandable if you ask me. So – my mother sees helpless, thin, homeless kitty and thinks, “Poor kitty, here let me feed you.” But what she’s really saying is, “Here’s some food, and my cats are going to fight with you and then I’ll call my daughter to get you out of here.” Yep – and call her daughter is just what she did. Well – at first she called the landlord of the park she lives in and they wanted to set out a trap for this lovable little kitty. When I heard that I had a fit. Then my mother had a better idea – Scott can come get the cat and take him to our no-kill shelter here… The problem with that is that our no-kill shelter is tiny and filled! So, without saying anything, because we didn’t want some jerk trapping this kitty, Scott went and brought kitty, dubbed “Chester,” home.

I already have three cats who live in my house, plus one my neighbors so thankfully adopted from us… Wait – the adopted kitty named, Friendly, was also a rescue kitty from my mothers “good deeds” of feeding the poor little kitty who then is beat up by her cat! Friendly has a fairy tale ending as he found the perfect family to love him.  Chester cannot live in my house because my cats have been here for a long time and I don’t want to piss them off – piss being the key word there (anyone with cats knows what I mean). So, we set up our utility room with a litter box, warm pillow bed, a nice crate he can go into for a warm closed in feeling, and we took the screen off the window so Chester can go out back and enjoy the sun – something the indoor cats cannot do. I think Chester is a happy enough kitty here. Sam has adopted him as his cat – which is fine because Chester seems to enjoy Sam’s hyper attention. Then when Chester’s had enough, he simply jumps out the window.

Chester sadly needs to take a trip to the Vet for a little ball removal. He needs to be “FIXED” but shhhhh, we don’t want him to know what we’re planning to do. Right now he can sit under the wild rose bush and enjoy life…

Sammy is into the “Why?” phase of growing up.

Last weekend we went to visit my cousin who lives way out in Fernley, Nevada. In the car driving out there Sammy asked the obvious, “Why does Mary Jo live way out here?”

*I added the heck in the title for more pizazz!*

My cousin married a guy named, Charlie Green. Sam asked, “What’s your name?” and so Charlie replied, “Charlie Green.” Later Sam said thoughtfully, “Why is Charlie Green?”

Jack was goofing around with Charlie Green and pointed at him as if to say, “You’re not green!”

Charlie found this wild animal roaming their nine acre lot and was wondering if we knew what it was. “Have you ever seen one of these before?”  Then something really weird happened…

Alien dog from the dwarf planet Pluto landed and she wanted to know, “Why is Charlie Green when in fact I can see him with my doggie black and white vision and I clearly see that he is either white or gray. This is a puzzling mystery and I was sent here to find the answer.” My cousin loved the alien dog so much she decided to keep her – never telling the truth behind Charlie Green’s name… (OK – so I know I’m a dork.)

Obbie Goobie – sleepy little fella… He didn’t sleep well the night before. Then we left the house early to get some shopping done, and head out to my cousin’s place. He’d only taken about thrity minutes worth of nap all day! The tiny little itty bitty was pooped! As he zoned out in the car you can see the question still lingering on his little mind, “Why is Charlie Green?”