Kicking up our Sequined Boots for Spring

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Stacey Hatton Commentary

The Kansas City Star – March 28, 2013

Western cowboy still life on the deskWhat’s with spring break marathoning? I’m not talking about running a crazy amount of miles. I mean when did 11 days of no school in March seem like the right thing to do?

When I was a kid (some time after the invention of the cotton gin and before rap music), spring break consisted of approximately 5 days. Nothing happened. We didn’t go anywhere. There were no Disney cruises. Never did you hear of families traipsing to Europe — no time for that nonsense.

We had shows to choreograph, jump ropes and hairbrushes to sing into and epic problems to solves, like who was a little bit country and who was going to be a little bit rock ’n’ roll?

But times have changed. Spring Break is such a huge family production. I know — bigger than Donny and Marie? Yes! So my hubby and I decided we needed to up our game and teach our girls about the finer things in life. We headed to “Little Hillbilly Vegas” — yes, we grabbed our cans of Aqua Net hairspray and our BeDazzler Bead Kit and set our GPS for…Branson!img_3862_8

For the previous family vacation, we traveled to our state’s capital, Topeka. Aim low was our goal. If you can get the kids thrilled to be in middle of nowhere and spending no money, that’s a pretty great vacation. Our girls bragged to everyone about their love of Topeka: their teachers, their pastor, strangers, even their grandparents.

But for spring break, we knew we had a brilliant master plan and was going to work out just fine.

Entering Branson’s city limits, we saw billboards almost stacked on top of each other. Our girls thought they were watching a movie on both sides of the road. Talk about ADHD distractions! How can you even get into Branson with all the promotional roadside reading material? Thankfully both our children are now readers so I didn’t have to translate each sign, for that might have sent me over the edge. Word to the advertising agencies of Branson: you did an excellent job for the 5- 8-year-old crowd. One of my daughters saw all those signs and said she is going to “honeymoon in Branson.” Thank Heavens she didn’t say get married!

After driving down the strip and screaming out for my husband to stop so I could take a picture of a two-story chicken — which, thank you, he wouldn’t — we were able to window shop all the attraction spots from the car. We saw the outdoor mini pirate golf, mini dinosaur golf, go-carts, kids’ fun center and water park, Silver Dollar City amusement park and our biggest destination, Dolly Parton’s Dixie Stampede.

We checked into a lovely resort, luckily, because the next morning it snowed 4 inches in a town that doesn’t see snow that time of year. Mini-golf, amusement parks and go-carts…oh, my! Not going to happen. So we put on our happy face, pulled on our creative thinking caps and found the fun.

Truly, when you have children who have not experienced big, fancy family trips yet, they aren’t too disappointed when things go downhill. Plus, on our last day we had Dolly’s Dixie Stampede, which I have to admit was one of the most outrageous things I have experienced. It had plenty of big hair and falsies (eyelashes, silly!), pretty ladies stunt riding on horses, and handsome men in uniform riding around the arena and waving their flags. Bands played, doves were released and indoor fireworks were shot off. And if you have never noshed on a Cornish game hen with no utensils while cheering for racing baby pigs or women riding ostriches, you haven’t partied at Dolly’s house.

We had to leave Branson a day early due to another threat of snow because you can bet your bottom casino chip that I wasn’t about to let snow trap me in that city of kiddie speed.

Our trip was entertaining. The children enjoyed themselves and now we can claim we are one step above Topeka in our travel experience.

Omaha is sounding nice. I hear they have a great zoo and not as many billboards and sequins.

Stacey Hatton is a co-author of the new best-selling book “I Just Want to Pee Alone,” available on Amazon and her website, www.nursemommylaughs.com.

You know who else is a co-author of that book? Patti “Sporkalicious” Ford!! That’s right, the Queen of Unicorn Blogdom and Spork switchblades, her royal highlariousness herself. Actually, after I posted my Star article to my book peeps, Patti so generously shared her experience with the giant cock of Branson. And I’m not talking about Tony Orlando, ladies! No, get a load of Patti “koala-ing” that giant gam!

You should check out her zany blog too. She’s a trip! Insane in the Mom-Brain is where she keeps almost 70K readers snorting and hollering!

Giant Chicken

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Choosing a Family Pet is Hard

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I finally did it. I gave in and let the girls have a pet. We have been planning on getting one for years; but the problem was every time we started discussing what we wanted, we couldn’t agree! This is what happens when you marry someone opposite of yourself and teach your children to become free thinkers. WHAT WAS I THINKING?!

I only slightly jest because they drive me crazy every other hour of the day, but I loves ‘em fierce every other second of the time!! So back to our family pet. Back to when my Hubby and I got married…

ogirlvetdogfood

Hubby had two large slobbery dogs. One was nice and smelly and the other was crazy as crazy gets – yet did not suffer in the odor department. Labradors are apparently very nice dogs for people who 1) like to be licked in the face by large wet tongues, and 2) pick up tumbleweeds of dog hair every day, akin to an outdoor scene from Bonanza. Since neither of those appealed to me, the cats and I bonded more.

Usually cats can blend together well when need be, that is unless you have one that is a theatre diva. I say this because I got mine literally in a theatre. Don’t most people pick up their kittens from the orchestra section in a cardboard box lined with the want ads? Vibrata, I named her after the character I was playing in the show in Dallas, TX, was my great travel companion. For the next fourteen years she traveled with me from state to state, usually sitting wrapped around my neck like a fur collar, as I would drive to the next show. And you wonder why I was called Circus Trash at a truck stop once! She was a Diva. A princess. When she was de-clawed, she hobbled around like she was looking for a walker or a cane for months afterwards. Even sat up like a Meerkat instead of on all fours. Soooo dramatic! Needless to say, she did not appreciate it when I left the theatre life and got married to a man with so many four-legged roommates. It was the Furry Brady Bunch sitcom we had hoped for.

Long story, short: they all died that year. Yes, all FIVE of them. Honestly, Vibrata had nothing to do with it. Even though she did have that look in her eye like she would take them all down, but seriously I think she was the second to go, so we had to rule her out as a suspect. Natural causes and cancer and just being old and crazy did them in at the end. It was a very sad year.

But after that, my Hubby and I started having kids and didn’t want to focus anymore attention on animals. We said when the children were older we would get them a pet so they could have that experience and learn responsibility.

So he’d say, “Dog.”
I’d say, “How big.”
He’d say, “Big. I don’t want a dog that looks like a cat.”
I’d say, “But you like cats.”
“I know I like cats, but a dog should be a dog, NOT a cat,” and so on…

Ten years later we got a cat!

Cute, right?!

Cute, right?!

This is our “cat.” The girls made cookies at grandmas and brought a bunch of them back. (Thanks a lot, MOM!) All of the cookies were eaten with the exception of this dear one.

Munchkin #1 who has a bit of a problem with letting go of stuffed animals…

This is only a slight exaggeration!  Girl has a problem!!

This is only a slight exaggeration! Girl has a problem!!

…apparently, also has a problem with letting go of animal cookies. Not only could we not eat this cookie, but no one was allowed to throw it away. It has been 3 weeks since “cat” joined our family. She doesn’t jump on the bed. No odor problem (yet)! And no litter box. I’m growing very fond of our pet choice.
The only problem is, the girls haven’t named her. Do you know why?

They are just like their parents, so they can’t agree on a name!

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Kids Sharing a Room Invites Fight Club?

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Playroom

When we moved into our new house, there were two bedrooms perfect for each one of our girls. Our girls who are one year apart. One might think that separating them and giving each of them their own space would be ideal, but obviously this is just a knee-jerk thought. Not one that I had spent weeks months, perhaps years plotting and planning.

My girls were going to…

**cue the dramatic hamster

(introduced to me my new bloggie crush, Rach Riot)

DUH, DUH, DUN-NAHHHHHHH!!!


GIFSoup


SHARE A ROOM!!!

Ice hockey face off.

Yes, you might think why would you do this? Do you want more fighting? Hair pulling? Children waking up the other in the middle of the night? NO! Are you high? Why would I want that! I have my plan. Part forcing them to work out their problems together, part learning to share, part helping them feel safe in the middle of the dark night AND…

THE PLAYROOM! Ah, yes the playroom. I painted it pink before we moved in (a prerequisite for them to even move to the new house. I think it was in the contract.) and made sure it had a door that would fully close.

This brilliant idea (and I still claim it is brilliant) has saved me many a headache. I don’t have to yell at them to clean up their toys every night. Only the day before the vacuum is to enter the picture, do I tell them if it is on the floor, it will get sucked up. For some reason, they are quite good at picking that crap up. Only ONCE did they not do it and I have 4 boxes of tiny, headless Polly Pockets and Disney parts in the basement awaiting their demise.

I don’t like to clean, nor do my children. But we know that it has to happen. When the vacuum is a’comin’ you better put it into overdrive! Otherwise please close that door to the playroom on your way out and don’t forget to turn off that light. I’m not paying to light up the whole neighborhood!

How do you get your kids to clean up their crappola? Every day? Once a quarter? Talk amongst yourselves…discuss!

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