“Are we what?” I asked Lorrie after half listening to her question. This was the time of day when I’d just met the girls as they got off of the school bus and was driving back to the ranch house.

“Are we real, Mommy? My friend, Pam, said that we all could just be pigments of someone else’s imagination.”

I nearly drove the SUV into the side of the covered bridge and wondered if Lex would be able to pull us all out of that creek.  Thank goodness that it wasn’t the rainy season.  The tires may get soaked, but we would most likely just end up with–

“Mommy!”

I swerved back onto the middle of the bridge and silently berated myself for letting my thoughts get away from me.

“Uh, sorry. Lorrie, what did your friend say?”

“Pam said that we could just be the pigments of someone else’s imagination.”

“Figment, Lorrie, pigment is what those freckles on your nose are.”

“Figment. Mom, what about it?”

“What about what?”  Okay, I have to admit that Lorrie’s question took me off guard.  It’s a question I have asked myself and never really came to a satisfying conclusion.

“Lorrie, do you feel real? When you touch things, can you feel them? Do you taste the food you eat?  Do you smell Freckles wet fur when she comes in out of the rain?  What do you think?”

“I guess I’m real, then.” She took a moment to think about it further as we came closer to the house.  “But what if all those things are what someone imagines we’d feel and taste and smell?”

I brought the Expedition to a stop and turned off the engine.  As the girls gathered their things up, I began to think that maybe Lorrie was on to something.

A little while later, Lex joined me in the kitchen as I put the final touches on dinner.  I told her about the conversation in the SUV earlier and that I thought Lorrie would make a fine philosopher.

“And rancher. Remember, she wants to run the ranch when she gets old enough.” Lex nabbed a piece of pot roast and popped it in her mouth. Her eyes closed in pleasure as she chewed the succulent meat. “Mmm, yummy!” She reached for another tidbit and I smacked her hand.

“Wait until dinner.  Why don’t you go call the girls and have them wash up for dinner,  honey?”

Lex grinned at me.  “Why don’t we imagine we called them for dinner, but they weren’t hungry and left all this wonderful pot roast for me?”

“You’re incorrigible, Lex.”

“I imagine so.”

“Be nice or you can imagine what happens in the bedroom tonight, all by yourself.”

“LORRIE!  MEL! DINNER!”

Then Lex scooped me up in her arms and started nibbling on my neck.

Real. Definitely real.

Amanda

Lex and I were startled from our own Mother’s Day celebration by the sound of little fists pummeling our bedroom door. It’s not so easy to sneak up on us now that we’ve got our door dead bolted. And, no, that’s not extreme. No, just a latch wouldn’t do. Our little crafty demons would figure out an embarrassing time to practice their Houdini skills and walk right in on us. Personal space? Not our kids.

Lex and I found one with a remote. It has a keypad, a key, and a remote to use to lock and unlock the door. Under certain circumstances, it will also turn on the ceiling fan on high speed and the television with the volume all the way up. Boy, were we surprised the first time that happened!

Lex and I quickly donned our bathrobes to make ourselves presentable and unlocked the door. The pummeling stopped and a chorus of “Happy Mother’s Day” and “We made you breakfast!” sounded as Lorrie carefully negotiated her way past our quickly shed clothes we’d worn the night before.

We’d already had “that talk” with Lorrie, but it still unnerves me when she looks around at the strewn clothing and the rumpled bed and says, “Ew! Get a room!” No point in reminding her that this is our room.

We accepted the girls’ tribute and placed it on our bed. Once invited, Mel and Lorrie joined us and told us all about their cooking effort. Just then, my cell phone rang.

“Hi, Martha. Well thanks, and the same to you.”

“Oh, nice. Thanks for watching Eddie. Hm? Oh yeah…nice surprise. You were here when the girls were cooking? What was that? Oh…you just made sure they didn’t burn down the house, but pretty much stayed out of their way. Oh, it looks fine…I like dark meat. Bacon? Really? Well it smelled kind of like that. Oh ketchup is supposed to help the flavor.” Here, let me give you to Lex.”

I handed the phone off to Lex and gave each of our girls a hug. Then I took a closer look at breakfast. Peanut butter and jelly pancakes, burned bacon with Ketchup, not sure what the fruit slices were supposed to be, because they were covered in maple syrup.

It was like my sister, Jeannie’s cooking. The pancakes were runny, except for the big glob of peanut butter and jelly mixed together and deposited right smack in the middle of each pancake.

“You go first,” Lex whispered.

“Chicken!”

“Taste it, Mommy!” Mel was bouncing on her knees from excitement. Lex and I looked at each other and, resigned to our fate, we each took a fork and dug in.

Thank goodness for Alka Seltzer.
And mops and buckets.
And Freckles, who thinks pancake batter is delicious when licked off the floor, table legs, cabinet doors, and Mel’s face.

Mostly, I’m thankful for the beautiful smiles of our darling daughters who really wanted to make something special for their moms.

Life is good.

Now I need to run…really.

Amanda.

Last night started well enough. Lex, Lorrie, Mel, and I had everyone’s favorite pot roast dinner. The girls chattered away about school, friends, little Eddie, Freckles and her penchant for leaving dead possums for Lorrie underneath the quilt at the foot of her bed. Same as always. Lex’s brother and future sister-in-law were spending the evening at Martha and Charlie’s. Who would have suspected?

I took Eddie upstairs for a bath and rocked him to sleep afterward. Lex and the girls had gone to the den where Lex reclined on the couch, promising to stay put and rest her back. The girls were deciding what board game to play.

As I carried Eddie from the bathroom to the rocking chair, I could hear it begin.

“That’s not your piece, Mel!” Lorrie insisted in her big sisterly way that drove her younger sister insane with the need to defy her.

“Yes it is. Momma said I could always have the blue piece ’cause it matches her eyes. Isn’t that right, Momma?”

I didn’t hear Lex’s reply. Personally, I thought she was trying to stay out of it. The chicken!

“You already have the yellow piece, you can’t change it now. Besides, I have the blue piece!” Lorrie’s righteous indignation was no match for her sister’s own version of reality.

“Momma never said that, did you Momma? You said I can have the blue piece when we play.”

The closer Eddie got to being asleep, the more my little “angels” argued with each other. I swear. Or should I say, I swore that if they woke Eddie up, they were in trouble. Eddie was about to sport a new tooth. So between his aching gums and all the attention, he was not his usual cheerful self, so putting him to bed early was an act of survival.

As I laid Eddie in his crib and thanked the heavens that he hadn’t stirred despite his sisters shouting from downstairs, I heard Mel shriek and bolted for the door.

By the time I was halfway down the stairs, I heard Lex shouting, the girls crying. Lex crying. Upon entering the den, I saw the three of them in a heap on the floor. Lex was on her knees holding both girls close. She was sobbing and apologizing. The girls were sniffling and subtling trying to edge each other away from Lex so that they could be the closest to her.

I stood there in the doorway and rolled my eyes to the heavens in exasperation. “Lorrie, Mel, go wash up and get ready for bed.” Off they went.

“Momma used a bad word, but she’s sorry, Mommy.”

“That’s ’cause you cheated, Mel.” Lorrie just couldn’t resist that last parting shot, could she?

“I did not!”

“Did, too!”

“Girls! Upstairs now!”

The mumbled, “Did nots” and “Did, toos” could be heard even as they both stomped up the stairs.

Lex was a mess. I spent the next five minutes convincing her that she wasn’t a bad mother because she yelled at the girls. They could try anyone’s patience. Sometimes I wondered if they needed to be yelled at once in awhile to be sure that we’re really paying attention.

Of course, in the midst of all that crying and wailing and apologizing, Lex strained her back, and I had to help her upstairs to bed.

So. How was your evening?

Amanda.

I can’t believe it’s been months since I last completed an entire blog. It seems like every time I sit down to put my thoughts together there’s:

* A scraped knee
* A busted lip
* A bruised ego

And that’s just Lex.
The kids are another story. They figured out that if they stand on our toes when they talk to us, they get our immediate attention. I think it was something Lorrie taught Mel, because she stands on our toes to hug us, to complain about her sister or her sister’s dog, and to see who gets to hold baby Eddie next.

Baby Eddie. Forgot to mention the newest addition to our family. Hubert, who has reformed past our wildest dreams, is engaged and pulling his life together. But in a weekend of deep dispair when he thought his hopes for his future were dashed to pieces, Hubert succumbed to his weaknesses and over a year later, humbly asked us if we would adopt his son, Edward Lee Walters.

What a beautiful baby! He looks just like Lex and Hubert. This child will definitely turn heads. He already does. No one in our close knit family can resist holding him and carrying him around. Eddie will probably be in gradeschool before he figures out that he is supposed to be doing his own walking.

Actually, he is very bright, and I know that if he has Lex’s quick mind, there’s nothing he can’t achieve.

How do the girls feel? They are crazy about their little brother. Here are just a few examples of the conversations we’ve had about out newest family member.

“No, Mel, he doesn’t need a leash like Freckles does. He isn’t walking yet.”

“Bouncing baby boy is just an expression. Remember Teddy? Well, Lorrie, you don’t want to do that again.”

“No, you can’t feed the baby lime jello so that his diapers won’t smell so bad.”

“Lex is resting her back, Mel. Eddie is taking a nap. Lorrie is at Grandma and Grandpas for the afternoon. You’re stuck with me.”

Gotta love it!
Amanda

I don’t think I’ve mentioned this yet, but we are in the midst of a severe drought. Texas is famous for having them for weeks at a time, running into several months. Usually, the winter humidity makes up for a lot, but this last winter didn’t quite measure up.

Lex is worried about the cattle. If it wasn’t for the aquifer that she located on that last bit of land she purchased, we’d have lost the entire herd. But, even so, it’s tough on the cattle that wander off to more remote places. Lex and her men go out every day to round them up and bring them back to where the water is available, but some of them insist on heading off to other areas of the ranch. We’ve lost a few because of that.

Between lack of water and natural predators, cattle who stray off, especially those in weak states, tend to become another animal’s lunch. Unfortunately, Foofy and her mom suffered that fate.

How to tell Mel? Mel was three years old when she witnessed the calf’s birth. She immediately named the calf “Foofy”, for reasons only she knew. When she overheard discussion about selling some of the young calves off to the market, Melanie cried her eyes out and made Lex promise not to sell either Foofy or her mom. Three years later, we still had Foofy, and her mom, whom Melanie also named, “Madame Calvolina”.

It’s a few hours later now, and can I say how proud I am of our daughter, Lorrie? We all sat with Melanie in the den and Lex, with tears in her eyes at her little one’s pending distress. explained as sensitively as possible that Foofy and Madame Calvolina were gone.

As soon as Mel’s tears began to fall, Lorrie took her sister’s hand and tugged her until she had Mel sitting on her lap. She consoled her sister until Mel’s eyes dried and heaving sobs were reduced to hiccups.

Then Mel asked, “Is Foofy with Granpa Travis and Gramma Mel?” Fortunately, the phone rang, and it was Wanda asking if our kids could come on over and play with hers.

As Lorrie began to leave the den to gather her things together, Lex pulled her into her arms and gave her a hug that needed no words. “We are so proud of you, Lorrie,” I said. Our eyes shone with tears of pride as well as sorrow for Melanie’s loss.

Lorrie straightened her posture and beamed at her mom and said, “Does that mean I’m off ‘striction’ and I can go riding tomorrow?”

It almost worked.

Amanda.

Okay, so here’s the deal.

Our angelic little angel, “Mel from Hell” was throwing her latest tantrum because her older sister, Lorrie, was helping Lex out with a new gelding that needed some extra care or something.  Lorrie was not the least bit sympathetic, which is typical lately. She is starting those pre-pubescent hormonal changes that make pre-teens heads spin in circles.  Mel, of course thought it was her right to help since Lorrie had been helping Lex out from an early age.

Lorrie is the potential rancher, and heir apparent to Lex.  Mel, should maybe consider something else entirely.  I never saw a child who could spook a horse just by saying ‘hello’ to it.  Thus, the tantrum.  And Lorrie, the not-so-sympathetic, reminding our young princess that she wasn’t cut out for the job, which made Mel cry even harder.

Lex swears she didn’t mean for me to hear her mumble, “Seems she’s got her mother’s temper”, to her adopted brother and our vet, Ronnie.  Of course, I overheard her and handled the situation with all the grace and aplomb that the situation called for. I stormed back into the house and started making dinner for my family.  I have absolutely no idea why the kitchen cabinets were slamming shut and the pots and the pans couldn’t find their way to the stove without a lot of racket.  I don’t have a temper. Not me.  Never.  Except for when i was pregnant, or  when we run out of chocolate at a very crucial time of the month. 

Thankfully, my Lexington is brilliant at anger management.  She left Ronnie in charge of the kids, came in the kitchen and led me upstairs to show me a better mood to be in.

Gotta love that gal of mine. 

Amanda.

Sunday night.

I’ve been  pondering this question every since my little one, Mel, with the help of her sister, put black shoe polish in her hair so that she could be a “proper Snow White” for Halloween.

Later, that night, Lex tried to smooth my frazzled nerves and promised me that she’d take the kids off my hands for a day or two since I seem to be ground zero for their antics…and feel like it, too.

What can I say about Mel that hasn’t already been said about every energetic and precocious child who is egged on by her big sister at the worst possible times?  I told Lex that sometimes I feel like I should apologize to her great grandmother, although deceased, for naming such a catastrophe prone child after her.  Such a sweet person in the old black and white pictures, and Lex’s grandfather adored her. 

Tonight, Lex gave me something that made me feel a lot better, curiously. It was an old  picture of a child who was covered from head to toe in mud.  In faded ink, the picture on the back said, “Melanie, age 6”. 

Go figure. 

I’m off to start dinner.  Mel is “helping” me tonight. 

Amanda