Mee My Mo: My life as I know it, breathe it, live it and love it!

Okay so things change when we all grow up, I get this, but never did I think I would be the mom that told the "I walked 12 miles in the snow uphill both ways" story. But here I stand before you and tell you that I am.

simple comparison: (me at 14), wake up to a fire alarm at 4am. this was my dad's oh so creative way of waking us all up at one time instead of going to each of his daughters' four rooms. Yeah, it's the weekend, no school work, sleep in, have free time, maybe go do something fun with some friends. EEErrrt, that the skidding sounds of brakes. No; that was not my weekend. My weekend consisted of carrying things to a overfilled garage with all sorts of parts to all sorts of things to a barn that was also filled with things I didn't know what they are. But first we had to tediously sort out metric tools from standard tools and we did this weekend after weekend. Why, you may ask. Well I don't know to be honest; it didn't make sense then and it doesn't make sense now. Nevertheless the weekends were always the same, the only thing that changed was what area we were going to take stuff from to transfer; the barn to the awning, to the garage back to the awning. So a typical weekend day would be waking up to a fire alarm at 4am, eating a big homemade breakfast of biscuits, gravy, eggs and bacon and juice. Then it was outside to do hours of grueling work. Stop for a lunch break and then back to it. When we were done outside we had to make sure our inside chores were done and then dinner. My school days were even worse. We'd wake up and before we got dressed for school we had to all go outside and pull 400 weeds each and show them to our dad, who sometimes counted to mak sure we weren't cheating. THEN we could get dressed, and get ready for school. After school we had homework and chores. I literally carried the real creative nickname, "Weedgirl", at this age. This was because as I was picking weeds, spring and summer, a boy I had a crush on drove by on his Quad and stop to laugh at me, calf high in irrigation water, with a hanky on my head a dirty clothes. This was embarrassing enough but when he brought back his friends to yell, "Weedgirl!!", that was downright humiliating. That stupid nickname lasted for 2 years!

Fast forward. Van stumbles down the stairs at around 9am, eats breakfasts, lays around on the couch until someone tells her to help out. At this point we get some sort of attitude, sigh, eye roll or complaint. She skims the surface of the counters and then disappears back up stairs. I am so busy my kids have learned that if they are quiet and don't bring attention to themselves they can go unnoticed and in sheer instinct mode I am cleaning what they were suppose to. We go out for lunch, maybe do something as a family as we constantly have to bring Van back to reality because she is texting on her phone. She eventually will let us know her plans for the week and in a sly way lets me know how much money I will be out.

The other day I was so fed up with it all I decided when we move out to my parents old house, yes the very house the above story was set, I will for a week let her live my life. It'll build character. Wathc for updates in the winter.....