When it's Christmas Time in Oklahoma.....

I was just reading Redneck Diva's blog concerning what is redneck, and it made me wonder....is what happened at Thanksgiving considered redneck? Cuz it just seems like normal to me....and that makes me wonder....what has happened to the prissy missy I used to be? At my mom's at Tgiving, my two male cousins from T-town came down (or up, as the case may be), and one of the boys had his girlfriend with him....his girlfriend most of us have not met. Very trendy, seemed nice, but I live in small-town-Oklahoma, even worse I think than small town Oklahoma. Now, I am not saying that the girl had probably not seen a real live horse before....I didn't really talk to her that long. I am just saying that judging from what she did talk about....the chances are quite slim. My parents live across from what used to be a happening place in our little town....the rodeo arena. The people who own this piece of land and the houses around it are quite well-known here in Little Town, Ok. I don't know that I would call them rednecks, but possible. When I was getting ready to leave Mom's, I was standing in front of a big window that faced the arena. I could see/hear the backhoe running....it was pulling into the front gate of the arena. I could also see that it was carrying something....and I was really trying to figure out what it could be, just looking through the ...whatever those sheer curtains are called (it's late, shut up). Finally, I went to the door and walked out onto the front steps......and seriously, I almost laughed my a$$ off. The neighbors had a fiberglass, inground pool shell on the end of the backhoe, and they had ended up in my parents' ditch and pretty much up in the yard. I thought they were going to get stuck up in the yard and leave the pool half in the yard/half in the ditch. And I knew, just knew, my mom was going to lose her shit and cuss in front of Cousin's girlfriend. Good times were about to be had. Yes, I am evil. Shut up. So I go in laughin my a$$ off and tell my mother what was going on, and sure enough, she went flying out the door to yell at the neighbors who probably wouldn't hear her anyway. There had to be at least 30 people out in their yard. After they got the pool into the arena, they took it to the northwest corner and torched it. That's right...you read it...TORCHED IT!!! In my small town, some...ahem....older people have nothing better to do with their lives than to listen to those police/fire scanners...or than to simply look out the window (the blaze/smoke could be seen at least 2 miles away) and then call everyone they knew or getting in their cars, and possibly on their cell phones because EVERYONE has one these days, and calling everyone they knew while driving by the arena which by the way is just on the edge of town before it turns into county roads.....so everyone circled my mom's block while rubbernecking the big flames. To top it all off, an environmental officer lives like 2 or 3 houses down from the arena, but he came screeching up in his car, made a gravel-spraying U-turn and proceeded to take pictures of the fire. At which point, the neighbors heckled him while they were standing around in the yard drinking their beers and maybe contemplating breaking out the hot dogs and sticks??? It was simply...awesome. What do you think? Redneck? Or just typical small-town?

He's Going Macando, Baby!

My little boy is five and has never been a big fan of wearing clothes, even when it is freezing outside. As soon as he gets home from school, the first things off are shoes, socks, and usually the pants...not always the shirts or underwear, but it has been known to happen. A few times since he has started kindergarten this year he has been caught (by me or my mom) without the underwear that was laid out for him that morning with all of his other clothes. He did this quite a bit this summer--he loves to change clothes. When he did it this summer, we all laughed and laughed about him "going commando." Which he says as "macando." All cute and funny, right?

However, the first part of November brought some chaos to our lives. My sweet (and favorite) uncle found out that the cancer in his lungs had not all been eradicated by the chemo and radiation. My mother, who also takes care of my munchkins before and after school, had to make many trips back and forth to T-town, so my hubby and I took turns being late for work and taking the kids to school. Can you see where this story is going?

The week previous to Thanksgiving, my uncle was not given much time left, so things were even more chaotic. It's hard to remember things as it is, right? Hubby was being sooooo good about helping with the kids, even saying that he really enjoyed it and would do it on a full-time basis. This was nipped in the bud by me in very short order.

One morning, I woke up Hubby (several, several times--NOT the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed type by any means) and told him the kids' clothes were all laid out on the chair in the living room. I reminded him again what time it was, that the kids needed to eat breakfast, the daughter needed to wear deodorant, etc., etc., etc. I took no chances and made the kids get out of bed before I left. Let's travel forward in time....

When I got home from work, my son was sound asleep at my mom's. The Girl and I made a trip for some boots and came straight back....still asleep. The Girl sat down to finish her homework, and Mom and I visited for awhile about the uncle and the kids, etc. I finally woke my son up because it was after 6:30, and I wanted to go home sooooo badly. It was a Monday, for the love of Pete.

When I woke him up, The Boy's socks were looking kinda floppy.....and I thought that was odd. I assumed he had stripped off his socks because they were wet, or he had thrown them somewhere in the house, so Mom had replaced them with hers? Sister's? Grandpa's? No, No, not so.

The Boy goes flopping through the house with me following, asking What is up with your socks? The Boy laughs and says he doesn't know in that innocent tone of voice that he has down pat (but the look on his face was pure orneriness). So I stopped him and really looked at the things. The Boy had one of my shorty socks on one foot and one of his daddy's shorty socks --which was dang near a knee sock on the boy--on the other foot. I am like, "Bubby, what is going on? Where are the socks Mommy laid out for you? Did Daddy not help you get dressed? All of your clothes were together in the chair. You have the pants and the shirt. The socks and underwear were with them....." And then the 'oh, crap' minute hits me. I realize there could be a very good reason why his pants were hiked way up when he crawled off the couch, even though he said it was because "Lebi" yanked them up real high at recess. Very seriously I ask him, "Bubby, do you have on your underwear?" The Boy answers, "Sure, Momma, look right here." He pulls down the waistband of his jeans, and all I can see is skin-colored underwear. Sigh. I yelled, "Mom! The boy went 'macando' at school today!"

Of course, we have laughed and laughed and completely harassed Hubby for his non-talents as a child-minder. He swears he thought I dressed The Boy because he was already dressed when Hubby finally dragged his arse out of bed. And we all think it's a cute story, but I can't help thinking I might be hearing a knock on the door from Child Services or some such.... I can only imagine what someone who might have met him for the first time that day might have thought about the poor little boy whose parents didn't take the time to put decent socks or any underwear on this boy.

On a side note, The Girl wasn't reminded to put on deodorant.....she takes a long time to wake up and be alert enough to remember things(too much like her daddy?). I don't believe I will be waiting for the Parent of the Year award this year.