It seems like every few months someone gets all up in arms about something someone said about someone else and someone picks up their toys and goes home…or decides not to write in their journal anymore. I guess I am just a simpleton, because honestly I just don’t care about all of that stuff going on out there. I am not the popular kid at school and I usually don’t even know that people are fighting until it is so long over with that I feel like I have just discovered some supposed ‘little known top secret fact’ which was actually highlighted in the issue of Time that I read at my dentists office – which happened to be 4 months old by the time I found it to begin with. So – needless to say, I am not the one in the know around here. And even when I think I am in the know, I am actually WAY BEHIND, because dude, I don’t even read the current events until they are 4 MONTHS OLD.

See, I read this here: and I then I read this here: and then I read this here. And you know what? Eh – I just really didn’t care either way. So here we are and I have not much to say. I get that someone made fun of someone's kids hair. Ummm, is there more to it than that? There must be, but I am missing the point. Man - I had my kids heads shaved - if you want to make fun of kids, hop on over to my site and it is a free-for-all. Like I said, I am sure I am missing the point.

So my weekend was nice and quiet. I took a lot of vicodin, napped quite a bit, recovered from a kidney infection and a sore tooth and well, that was about all that happened. Seriously. We didn’t do a damn thing. I didn’t type anything, read anything, watch anything on the computer. Not once. I watched some TV, but I didn’t strain myself. It was glorious. Seriously.

And now? I am sleepy. So sleepy. So very, very sleepy…and I have work to do. And kids to go home to. And more work there. So there is that.


Buy Ruffles...or else you are stupid.

Photo shoot at the grocery store over the past weekend...


Parties and Police

Friday night went off without a hitch. Ha. HAHA. HAHAHAHAHA. Whew! That is a funny one. What? Oh right…you don’t yet know about the disaster that was my Friday night. It can be summed up by saying that my newly 15 year old daughter is grounded until January. It was THAT fun.

The details, you ask? You couldn’t stop me if you wanted to.

Girls started arriving for Brittany’s birthday around 7. One girl showed up and left only 15 later because her mother didn’t want her going to a haunted house without adult supervision. I thought this was pretty funny. My husband and I planned to drop them off (all 11 of them, mind you) at the haunted house with money, and then go out to dinner. They were to call us when they were done and we would come get them. We were about 5 minutes away the whole time. But, this girls mother didn’t like that idea so she couldn’t stay. I laughed at her and her mistrust of the girls. Ummm, lets just say that she is smarter than me. MUCH SMARTER.

The haunted house part was fine. We dropped the girls off and went to dinner at Dakota’s – which by the way was AWESOME. After dinner we headed over and picked up the girls who were ready to go home. So far, so good. We then headed home and ordered them pizzas. After the pizza arrived, Todd and I went to bed. It was midnight, I was tired. We went to sleep.

At 3:00am there was a knock on the bedroom door. It was Brittany – and she was quite persistent with the damn knocking. She announced that there was a policeman downstairs on the front porch that wanted to talk to us…which of course got our attention. I grabbed a pair of shorts and a shirt and headed downstairs. I bet I looked HOT.

Officer Something-rather proceeded to tell us that two of the girls that were staying at our house were currently 2 blocks away being detained by another officer. And, that they had seen my daughter and another one of her friends walking back from the park only minutes before. 3 AM!!!! According to the police, there were a bunch of girls at the park horsing around with some guys in a gray car – 2 fifteen year olds and an 18 year old. They were loud and obnoxious and someone called the cops to shut them up. According to my daughter, they were hanging out at the park “because we wanted to swing” when all of a sudden some guys showed up and then she left. Never-mind that one of these guys is the one my daughter went out on a date with last week…because that is simply not important (yeah, right).

I sent my daughter and her friend inside, grabbed a sweatshirt (it was 40 degrees out) and went over to where the other girls were being held. There were two police cars with lights on and a few policemen standing around. One of the girls was sitting on the curb alone. The other was nowhere to be seen. I walked over to the infamous silver car and opened the door – and found girl number 2. I got her out of the car and of course yelled at them both. WTF? What were they doing out at 3am – in a car with boys – when they were under our care at our house???? One of the girls called her mom, who came and got her. The other girl couldn’t get in touch with her mother, and came back home with me.

My husband said, and I agree, that we will never really know what was going on – but I think I have a pretty good idea. I think that all of the girls were up at the park – after calling the boys and asking them to meet them there. Two of the girls were hanging out in their car, and the other girls got cold – and since there was no room in the car for anyone else, they went home to get warm. Brittany and her friend went home and then back to hang around the boys, but left again when they heard the police cars.

Turns out that the car belonged to boy my daughter has been ‘going with’ – or rather to his father, who was out of town. The 18 year old was a friend…whom he let drive the car. That would have REALLY made me mad if it had been my car. Can you imagine? The two girls that were with the police received citations for breaking curfew, as did the two younger boys. The older boy was given a $250.00 ticket. The car was towed. I grounded my daughter. The two girls that received citations are grounded, and the younger boys are grounded. And even though all of the girls should be grounded, I didn’t tell their parents what happened, so they are home free.

We didn’t get back to sleep until after 5, and had to get up at 6:30 with the boys. Doesn’t that sound like fun?


Gouls and Groul

I have a date tonight with my husband. We are taking my daughters and 9 of their friends to a haunted house and leaving them there – and we are going out to dinner at a fancy restaurant. I have never been to Dakota's...it is supposed to be great. CANNOT WAIT! Will drink wine. And be happy.

Dumbest Sentence Ever

Actually spoken in a meeting today:

“I would like to compliment you preemptively for the work you have already done”



We went to a concert last night – by Cowboy Mouth. It was a week-night, so we were really living on the edge. Out past midnight when you have to go to work the next day? Doesn’t happen here very often. But, it was a band that I have heard a few songs from and liked, we were going with some great friends we don’t see often enough, and another friend of ours LOVES this band, so I knew it would be a good time…even if we were out late.

Sitting in the audience I was in awe at the following this band had, the energy they could drag out of the audience, the fun they had. During one song, Hurricane Party, everyone threw Tootsie Rolls on the stage. During another one, Everybody Loves Jill, everyone held up red spoons and then when they sang the words “With her red spoon” they threw the spoons at the band. It was like a Rocky Horror cult following. And the greatest part was the lead singer. He plays the drums and sings, and has more energy than a 5 year old on Halloween night (after eating the candy). He yells and screams, and preaches in a way. He has a way of getting pretty much everyone involved in what is going on. And if you don’t want to get involved? He will literally come yell at your ass and make you participate. It had the potential to be annoying, yet wasn’t at all.

Toward the end of the concert I looked out onto the crowd of people – maybe a few hundred, as it was a fairly small bar-type hall they were playing in – I got the feeling that I had been there before. It wasn’t the place that felt familiar (although it was) or the people (although they were). It was the way people were acting. The response they were giving this band. It brought me back to my days in the Pentecostal church… people with there hands in the air, waving them back and forth…eyes closed, concentrating on the words in the songs…listening to the words, drinking everything in.

It was – for lack of any better explanation or words – a religious experience for many of those people. These people were so committed to this band, so connected to the music, so happy to ‘belong’ – that they just let themselves go and didn’t focus on anything but what they were seeing and hearing. Strangely though – it didn’t make me feel like this was special or fantastic. It simply re-iterated what I have felt for many years: Church is simply a social experience, a pep rally for folks that need to feel like they belong to something greater than themselves.

Driving and Living

Driving down the road, looking at all of the neon signs, car dealerships, high rise buildings, I begin to wish for the simpler times. I wonder how life in the 1800’s would have differed and how much of my energy would be consumed by frivolous things. There are so many things bidding for our attention, for our money. Everywhere you look there is some ad or store trying to get you to spend some of your time there, some of your money there, some of your energy thinking about them. It seems unfair. Why should I spend even a second glancing at a bulletin board for Harley Davidson Motorcycles, or La Madeline coffee? It seems wrong to use my mental abilities to think about Saab’s or Mustangs, or even boats. I hate that we have so much pressuring us in life – so many things distracting us from just LIVING.


Injury Ends Shiner Bock’s Brilliant Career

Shiner Bock, originally uploaded by ckindsfather.

Only 11 months after surrendering to surgery for his knee, Shiner Bock has announced his retirement from professional ball retrieving. He had been wavering on a final decision until earlier this week when a mild sprint brought him to his paws. As he lay looking up at the blue sky, he knew that his career was over.

There is virtually no strength left in Shiner’s knee to carry his worn-down body through another chasing season.The 96 pound black lab turned 5 this year, and although young in mind, he had to face his reality, and cancelled plans for a graceful farewell appearance in the park amongst all of the children. Instead, Shiner will turn over his grand ball collection to Ziegen Bock as chew toys.

It was not as if Shiner had no time to prepare. The Kindsfather’s persuaded Shiner to push through another season running after balls, but then he hurt his knee, had surgery, and finally injured his leg again. Retirement was imminent before his owners this week declared that his knee problems were career-ending.

The media conference yesterday (which aired nowhere for nobody) was possibly the biggest in sport since Sassy won the ball chasing record a few years ago. Shiner said it was one of the toughest days of his life, starting with fronting up to his brother in the morning before their regular walk and letting him know this was it.

“Woof”, (translation: I couldn't even look them in the eye, it was that sad) Shiner said.

“Woof, woof, woof”, (translation: Being a part of ball catching for the last 4+ years, you train catching a ball, you eat and sleep basically with balls, you do it every day, and it's just so sad to not be a part of it any more. But life must go on)

And lastly, “woof” (translation: Ball catching has been my life — or half of it. It means so much to you and you don't realize until you have to hang the ball up how much it does mean. I haven't thought too much about what I'm going to do after retrieving balls. I wish I could lay here and just lick mine, however they were removed).

My 15 Year Old Daughter

My youngest daughter is 15 years old today. 15 years torn from the calendar in what feels like months. It is hard to explain the passing of time, to capture the emotions and activities in a way that lets anyone else but me understand all that has happened and how much these 15 years have meant to me. I barely remember a life without Brittany in it. I know for certain I would never want a life without her.

She was born with a heart much larger than a child should have. She is passionate about everything in her world. Everything is either fantastic or a tragedy – there is no in-between for her. She lives life to the fullest – always interested in what is going on, who is going where, who said what. It can make your head spin to see her in action, but most of the time it simply makes me laugh.

She is such a different person from me. She is the person I longed to be in high school. She is popular and cute, and so sure of herself. She isn’t influenced by her friends the way I was – she is steadfast in her beliefs and is proud of the decisions she makes. I don’t see her caving on her desires simply to ‘fit in’, although she certainly seems to fit in anyway. Where did that confidence come from? How did she obtain it so young?

I am scared to see her working her way into the world – a world that will take advantage of her generous heart. Yet, I am so proud of her and look forward to watching her continue to grow and laugh and learn.

Happy Birthday Brittany. I love you.


Letters to People at the Gym

To the man on the treadmill in front of me at lunch today: The farts are FOUL! That is not a normal condition – see a doctor about that PRONTO…and until you have fixed your leak, stay the fuck away from the Y and especially me. Seriously dude – that is RANK!!!

To the woman in the dressing room to whom I said “you have gorgeous hair”: I take it back. You ungrateful little, snotty, the-world-loves-me little bitch.

To the man on the treadmill beside me: Yes, I run slow. I am running slower than you. Still am. Still am. STOP LOOKING AT MY SPEED AND LEAVE ME ALONE.

To the man wearing the wife-beater, flirting and getting in everyone’s way: For god’s sake man – put on a real shirt. And go work out, or just go. This is not a bar. It is not happy hour.

To the amazingly HOT man at the counter on my way out: Thank you for being there and being easy on the eyes.

How to: Go jogging with twins

  1. Pack cups of water, diapers, wipes, pacis, cloth diapers, books, sunscreen, jogging stroller, water bottle, iPod,
  2. Put everything by door while I put my shoes on.
  3. Watch boys get into everything they shouldn’t be while I just want to get my damn shoes on – for Christ sake!!
  4. Pick up Roark and hold Cole’s hand – walk out into garage to put boys in car seats.
  5. Realize the car seats are not in the car because we took them out when the girls went to a movie.
  6. Put Roark down – allowing both boys to wonder the most dangerous garage know to man.
  7. Spot fire-ant killer granules and run to beat boys to them.
  8. Fight Cole for ant-killer.
  9. Win and put on top shelf.
  10. Go back to car seat nightmare.
  11. Get one car seat installed and put Cole in it.
  12. Open garage door so that I can get to the other side of the car.
  13. Put Roark in front seat of car and let him pretend he is driving so that he doesn’t run away.
  14. Put second car seat in car.
  15. Rangel Roark out of front seat and into his seat – which appears to be a major disappointment to him – gathered this based on screaming that made my ears bleed.
  16. Get in car.
  17. Get out of car.
  18. Go back inside and get purse.
  19. Get back in car.
  20. Drive to park – 45 minutes away – because I am insane and think that the park in Ft. Worth is somehow better than any closer park.
  21. Arrive at park.
  22. Get stroller out of car.
  23. Smell poop.
  24. Check Roark.No poop.
  25. Check Cole.No poop.
  26. Check shoes – find poop.
  27. Put boys in stroller.
  28. Give them cups of water and pacis.
  29. Put on iPod.
  30. Lock car.
  31. Stretch.
  32. Walk a bit to warm up.
  33. Pick up cups 14 bazillion times and finally put them in stroller where boys cannot reach them.
  34. Turn up iPod so that I cannot hear boys yelling for water – which they totally don’t want.
  35. Run for about 12.5 minutes and determine I am freaking TIRED.
  36. Turn around and run back to car.
  37. Get water.
  38. Take boys over to the park.
  40. Take stroller into the middle of the field and let boys out.
  41. Spend the next 45 minutes chasing them both and trying to keep them close to the center of the field.
  42. Swear 14 times that they are going to “put your eye out with that stick” and play what can only be seen as a game of fetch with my boys.
  43. Rangle each kid back into the stroller and go back to car.
  44. Put each kid in car.
  45. Drive 45 minutes back home – boys sleeping the whole time.
  46. Get home and realize that the boys are NOT going to take a nap, since they slept in the car.
  47. Put boys in house and then unload car - listening to them scream the whole time.
  48. Weep quietly.


The Spirit of a Boy

I ‘hear’ that the boys are feeling a little better today. I – am at work and my husband is home, so it is all hear-say at this point. What I can attest to is this: last night Cole woke up at least once every damn hour. And like a good mommy I jumped up every time he made noise (in order to avoid the horror of another undiscovered-until-much-later throw up) and ended up getting SO LITTLE SLEEP. I have to say that I prefer work on some days to dealing with the sick kids. Yesterday was nice – holding Cole’s burning up head against my chest, talking to him, rocking him to sleep. I love how sweet they both are when they are not feeling very good. They are cute, cuddly and much less like their normal wild-ass selves. Yet there is something sad about them when they are like this – like part of their spirit is broken. I think I prefer the wild-spirited to the broken-spirited…but don’t hold me to that.


Poor Sick Cole

Both of the boys have not been feeling well lately. They have had a cold ever since going to the doctor a few weeks ago for routine shots. We have been dealing with runny noses and coughs for at least a week from Roark – and last night Cole started up with a fever. I gave him Tylenol (which he freaking HATES) and I put them both to bed around 8:15. Cole went to sleep pretty quickly, Roark struggled as usual, finally going to sleep around 9:something. At 4:30 this morning, Cole started crying. He does this quite a bit – wakes up early and tries to get us to let him play instead of sleep. We ignore him, and inside 5 minutes he goes back to sleep. I did the same thing this morning. He cried for a little while – no more than a few minutes, and was quiet again. I eventually got up, took a shower and got ready for work.

Around 6 I woke up the girls and went down to feed the dogs and get the boys stuff ready for the day. At 6:30 Cole started crying again so I went up to get him, and walked into a room smelling of vomit. So gross. He had thrown up in his bed and it was everywhere. I am assuming here that it happened at 4:30, because (and do not read any further if this is already bothering you) it was dried to his head and the bed. To say I felt like a shit is an understatement. Why didn’t just poke my head in at 4:30 and make sure he was OK? Damn, damn, damn. Poor baby had to fall asleep in puke.

I gave Cole a bath and changed his sheets – Roark was still sleeping and none of this woke him up! Then I loaded them in the car and took my oldest daughter to her dads so she could drive to school. My youngest daughter, the boys and I grabbed some food and then we dropped her off at school. All the while Cole was not exactly acting normal – and he was getting a rash. I decided to stay home and work from there – knowing he is going to need a trip to the doctor this afternoon. He is now asleep in his clean bed, but I am guessing that this is going to be one long day… I hope he is ok.


So now they are both freaking sick. Not so much with the throwing up - but more of the other stuff. It is a joy. Cole's rash is only on his face now - and Roark has it on his head and behind his ears - odd... wish the pooping would stop. For the love of God - make it stop. During one diaper change Roark decided to help me out by putting his hand in his poo and then rubbing his eyes. That was really fun for me.


He is SUCH. A. BUTT!

Last night I was at home with the boys. I had just finished putting their jammies on and they were drinking milk out of cups when all of a sudden Cole walked up to me and slammed his cup into my head. Holy shit – that hurt! I yelled at him (while clutching my head – certain he had split it in two) and do you know what he did? He busted up laughing at the hilarity of my injury – caused by HIM. And – he did it again. I then grabbed the cup and threw it across the room, because I love to over-react. He of course LOVED this game and proceeded to throw his cup at the wall the rest of the night. Score one for the giant butt named Cole.


Fat and Fake Nails

I have been struggling with my weight since having the boys. They are almost a year-and-a-half old. I know, I know – that is PLENTY of time to get back in shape…but I am not there. It is simply hard. Or I am simply lazy. Or maybe a combination of both. It just seems like it was always easy to stay thin. I was never happy with my body (not ever) but my struggles were not weight related. This is new territory and I have to be honest here: I HATE THIS STRUGGLE! I hate putting on a size 8 and having it fit. I hate it a lot when it is tight. I hate that the size 10 doesn’t just slip off my body. I hate that I have a closet full of very tiny clothes I fear I will NEVER wear again.

Why is it that I am this obsessed with my current weight and yet I don’t stop drinking alcohol and can’t seem to stick to the South Beach Diet? Is it not really important? Or do I feel like trying and failing is worse than not trying? What in the hell is the problem? Why can’t I just convince myself that food isn’t as important as I seem to be making it?

Also – why on earth did I get these acrylic nails? What was I thinking? Note to self: buy acetone and remove at once!

Breast Cancer Awareness Month

October is breast cancer awareness month. It is bitter-sweet for me. I am glad that we have the attention focused where it should be, yet it makes me sad. My mom had breast cancer and well…she didn’t survive. It was a long, difficult, unrewarding battle and it has made a huge impression in my heart. There is not a week that goes by that I don’t think about her.

When I was 8 or 9 we moved into an old house. This house needed a LOT of work and my mom, brother and I were the only ones around to work on it. We sanded, painted, knocked down walls, tore up the kitchen, and everything else that needed to be done to make it livable. My brother and I had to do all of the ladder work – anything that required reaching over our heads because my mom had a really sore shoulder. This would turn out to be the beginning of the warning signs that she was sick – but none of us really gave it much merit. She didn’t go to the doctor and the cancer festered.

When I was 20 years old my mom came down with the worst cold I have seen. Her breathing was funny, and she coughed a lot. I would compare it to smokers cough. She worked at the hospital at the time as an RN and went down to the emergency room to have someone take a look at her. At this time, it had been 15 years since she had been to the doctor for anything. They took a chest x-ray and scheduled a follow up for Monday morning with an oncologist. Apparently there was a large lump in her breast and her lungs had fluid in them. They didn’t indicate that it was related at the time (at least not to me – but as it turns out I wasn’t told a lot of things).

I took my mom to the doctor. I sat in the waiting room – because she said it wasn’t a big deal and didn’t need me in the room with her. They scheduled her for a biopsy to “check and see if it was cancer” according to my mother. I still wasn’t very concerned – she didn’t seem to be worried at all, so I didn’t think there was a huge issue. I was very, very wrong.

My boyfriend went with me when my mom had the biopsy. When she had been in surgery for about an hour, the surgeon came out and sat down with us. He told me that he was very, very sorry – but that the cancer had progressed to the point where they could not remove it – that there was no way surgery would fix the damage. He said that the cancer had been growing for at least a decade, and was too wide-spread to remove. they simply closed her up and would be starting her on chemo in week. To say I was stunned is the understatement of the year… I was not prepared for that kind of outcome.

Months of chemo. In and out of the hospital. A rushed wedding so that my mom could see me married. A rushed pregnancy so that she could meet her first grandchild. Life just flew past me and I couldn’t slow it down. Chemo didn’t work. The cancer spread to her lungs, bones, kidneys, brain. What started as a lump in her breast ended up eating her body and her mind. She died 2 months before her granddaughter, my first daughter, was born. I sure do miss her.

There is a lesson to be learned here: GO TO THE DOCTOR FOR CHECKUPS EVERY DAMN YEAR.

And then there was one

I wonder what life would be like if I were a stay home mom… I never used to think about this – but have spent some time lately dwelling on it due to a neighbor quitting her job last week to stay home. I have to admit I was a little jealous. OK…a lot jealous. I really do think I would enjoy that life if it wouldn’t require a huge lifestyle change. I have a pretty cushioned life – we eat out, we go on vacation, we spend a fair amount of money on cars, house, the kids and I cannot say that I want to give those things up. I want to go to Italy on spring break. I want to take my daughter to Everest when she graduates. I want to visit our friends after they have their baby in November. And even simpler things like: I want to go to the dentist and get my tooth fixed that is driving me crazy. I am glad we were able to afford to get our boys the RSV immunizations last year, and want to be able to cover healthcare costs in the future. It is nice to have two cars – Todd travels a bit and it would be difficult for the girls to drive anywhere if we only had one car. We live in a nice, safe neighborhood – something I didn’t have as a child…it is important to me that my kids have this.

How do you make a decision to stay home? How do you decide what are must-haves and wants? How do you scale back? How do you go from two quite large incomes to only one?


A good day

I spent the day with the boys because it is a “bank holiday”. I don’t work for a bank, but I support one – so I get to take their vacation days…which is nice. That is until the day after freaking Thanksgiving when I have to drag my ass to work. Anyway, I digress… I was home with the boys and it was glorious. I took them to the bagel shop, and to exchange a pair of shoes I bought Cole. Then after their nap my husband joined us for lunch (which was a nightmare, but lets not dwell on that, please…). After lunch the boys and I went to Ft. Worth to jog on the best trail in the world – River Legacy Parks.

Yesterday when I told Todd what I wanted to do with my day off he dared me to let the boys loose in the park. He said I should put them both in the field and see how long I could make it before going insane. So that is exactly what I did. Seeing how I was insane before starting, I am not sure how to report back to him. Ideas?

The boys played and goofed off in the big fields for a while, and then when I had enough of envisioning them poking sticks in their eyes as they ran down the hill, I packed them into the B.O.B stroller and headed out for a run. I made it about 2.5 miles and I swear to god I lost the will to live. Usually Todd pushes the stroller when we run. It is hard. HARD. H.A.R.D. And totally not in a good way. I guess we went about 5 miles, but it took close to an hour, which is sad. By the time we were back at the car, I was sorry I had even gone out there. How bad is that? Don’t answer that. Please.

Overall though? A very, very nice day. Cute little boys, sunshine, no work. What more could I ask for?


I am a fan of wine. Not so much beer – but wine…ah yes. I think I will start posting my half-assed reviews here for anyone who likes wine – but mostly for me so that we stop buying ones we don’t like. I am a much bigger fan of the reds than whites. I like Chianti and Cabernet Sauvignon. I also like Pinot Noirs a bit. Honestly – I like any dry red wine, and I am not entirely sure I know the difference between them. Remember the old Pepsi vs. Coke challenge? I would certainly fail if given a “red wine challenge” test. And yes, I failed the Pepsi/Coke one. I just don’t pay attention to the details I guess.

So – wines I love:

  • Pretty much all of the Bonterra wines. They are organic and just have a nice, crisp flavor.
  • Kavos – greek red wine. I think they make a white also, but I like the red best (I think it is more for the memories of being in Greece than the actual wine though, because it is not the best wine.
  • Earth, Zin and Fire – Red Zinfandel. Yummy with a funny label – what more could you want?

Things on My Mind

When is fall going to get here already?

Why is it already dark in the early evening - and what is with the darkness at 7am already?

Why is Plano so flat?

When will the boys talk already????

Why am I so tired all. The. Time?

Why can I not get motivated to put away the clean laundry? Or dust? Or do anything to improve the state of my house?

When will my next day off be?

How long till I can retire?



The girls are on fall break this week. I took Tuesday – Thursday off to spend some time with them and the boys and didn’t think about work once. It was nice. But now it is Friday and I am back at work – and it is less nice than not working. Bummer.