OK, just WHO is the sock bandit?

As I wait for the clothes to wash and dry, I'm arranging SOCKS into piles by color and size. It never fails that there are some left alone, one stray sock here and there (which also pile up over time)! So, as most Moms will do, we make certain that the kids didn't just leave one~say, under their beds~or perhaps it just fell behind the hamper when one of them decided to practice basketball! Then you painstakingly move the washer and/or dryer, to make sure that one didn't just fall behind or between there.
Of course, this makes it yet another 'issue' when getting ready for school, especially when you have little 'divas' as I do! I've instilled in them the NEED to 'match', so of course, if there isn't a 'white' shirt, then they don't want 'white' socks! So, as they're whining, I'm madly sorting through that 'designated' basket of "LOST" socks, to find that match to make an authentic pair! Well, grrrrr....!!!! That does NOT always happen.
So, can someone PLEASE tell me: "Just who IS this sock bandit"? Does he/she actually go from home to home, dryer to dryer, STEALING just ONE sock? Could it actually be a sock PIRATE? With only one leg, and the other wooden? I'd really like to know, because I give up and actually just go buy more 'bags' of pairs for them, only to accumulate even more!

http://lisamarieinla-amomsgottabrag.blogspot.com/

Why do they call them FIELD trips anyway?

OK, so we live in a small town. My little Kindergartener had a 'field trip' this morning to a place called the "Pumpkin Patch". Imagine this...one busload of 5-6 year olds, with about 20 vehicles following it; with MOST of the parents having NO directions NOR any clue where we were going. (YES, thank GOD for cell phone conferencing)!

It's Friday, and MOST of Thursday night there was a monstrous, weather changing front coming through. And in Louisiana, that means LOTS of rain, even lightning. So, when we get to this 'family owned' farm, so to speak, and see how the cars were parking~as directed by one of the teens working there~"park only on the green grass"; one has to wonder what OTHER colors the grass may be where we're going!

We make our way in the Mommy van, through sand and muck, to the 'field' designated for parking. And, lo and behold, there was some almost black grass! Black, from the MUD that resulted from the storm the night before! They 'repaired' the entrance with SAND. Yes, sand. You should have seen the ruts! I said a silent prayer that we didn't get stuck, and followed the 'herd' of parents. This isn't unusual for us, living in a rural area, visiting yet another rural area.

But you would think that the owners would take into consideration that 5-6 year old children were coming on their property, in these conditions! There of course, was an irrigation ditch, with a pipe (conduit) was exposed and surrounded by MORE water, and mud/muck. This was at an angle to the ditch of water we had to cross to get to the pumpkin field! They added two pieces of plywood as 'makeshift' bridges. Yeah, that worked! Once several people had stepped on them, got them wet, and softened; well, you guessed it! They would collapse in the middle and cover with water. Hence, WET, muddy feet!

Then they have this AWESOME, huge RED, um, bouncy thing out in another portion of their property. It was like a big red 'pillow' made of a rubbery material, that had been filled with air, tied down, and surrounded by, yep, MORE SAND! So now we have WET SAND, requirements to 'remove shoes before jumping'; and so we proceed to remove those muddy shoes (and socks) for them to jump on the 'big red bouncy thing'. It's even fenced in!

Well, that horrendous storm the night before? Uh-huh, it brought in colder weather. SO, we have about 8 or 9 busloads of what appeared to be 4, 5, and 6 year olds, barefoot in the cold, wet sand climbing on a big, red, bouncy thing over and over again. So then "I" proceed to go back through the muddy obstacle course, to snatch one of the towels (in a bucket) that were being used to wipe off the pumpkins. Mommy was looking ahead to cleaning those wet, sandy feet to put the socks and shoes back on!

OK, so we get past this and make our way over the irrigation pipe into the field of 'already cut' pumpkins. The kids select their pumpkins, and we make our way over that makeshift bridge only to gather to decide if 'the siblings at home should get a pumpkin as well', AND how much it would cost! So we make our way to an adorable little 'country store' sort of cabin, to find that they were $5.oo each.

The father (yes, one of those rare Dads that could attend this "FIELD" trip) of my daughter's BFF (best friend forever), holding his youngest daughter in his arms, proceeds to show us the mark on her face. They went into the 'Petting Pen' and the goat 'horned' her and pinned her against the fencing! "SHE" is not yet 2 years old...and says, "Bad (baah, baah, doat)"~ironic, huh? She was so cute, but sounded as though she were chastising a lamb instead.

We let our girls peddle around a bit on the little kiddie tractor-bikes, looked at each other and said, "Are you ready to go?" (already knowing the answer)! So, we made our way back to the van, and who do we see walking? The "dad" and the baby! They were asked to leave, being told that they needed a 'sticker', to pay again (for the baby) or leave! When he complained about the goat, they told him he was in a 'restricted area'...the petting pen? Where several others were? Wait until MOM hears about this! (and yes, the drama continued from home)...

So, my carpooling friend, our daughters, and I proceed to take a MUCH shorter route, to a quaint little BBQ place to sit down and eat lunch. The sandwiches were saved for later, but the chips were eaten on the way..and "we" were back to our little town about an hour before the bus returned. I cannot wait to 'hear' the feedback on this Pumpkin Patch FIELD trip!

What ever happened to Museums? The Mint? The Cabildo? Educational, historical places that 'we' visited as students? I guess it's more fitting to go to muddy FIELDS on field trips instead!

Life in a Small Town

There were days that I never imagined that I'd still be in Folsom! My family moved here when I was almost 10 years old, my brother was almost 12. My mother and her parents/family, were of course from here, so it was the logical place to 'settle in'. We'd moved from Kenner (where the airport is), and it was growing so fast that my parents felt it would be best to 'get us out of the city' and move to the 'country'. Well, "I" adjusted well, but it was a bit different for my brother. He was an all-around athlete, could ride his bike around the corner to the park, or in the neighborhood ~safely back then~and we were surrounded by family, living in almost identical houses, the floor plan being twisted around a bit, just to sell, I guess! It was the 1960's, but things were changing. Our mothers didn't 'have' to work, so they were home when we got home from school. They listened to our explanations of what happened to us that day, at school or on the bus; they had snacks ready for us to eat...it wasn't like 'Ozzie and Harriet', but it was just, well, comfortable.

My mother helped baby-sit while my Aunt Sherrie was going into the hospital to have her youngest son; and some of those kids stayed with Mom, even after Aunt Sherrie went back to work. My mother got into a HORRIBLE automobile accident, where she and our next door neighbor went through the windshield. They were rear-ended by a Frey Meat truck at a red light! When my Aunt Kathy met us at the bus stop, my heart jumped. That wonderful routine changed for quite some time!

When Mom finally came home, she looked like a MUMMY, not MOMMY, to us. So, when she healed, she also looked different. I'm drawing some blanks, so I must have 'blocked' it from my memory. That's when Dad knew it was time to get out of there. And the plans began to move out of Kenner, across Lake Ponchartrain, to the 'country'. Oh, how grateful I am for that decision. (to be continued)