Introducing Us

“You did WHAT Boys?

That is me, Abbie, and that is what I say, a lot.

What you cannot see on the floor behind me is my constant pile of clothes I am trying to fold, at all times.

Let me help you.

 I should be happy to be folding clothes because that would mean I am not pulling a slug off of someone or cleaning milkshake off the ceiling again…

or for that matter, getting the legos out of the blender.

I can help you with that one too.

I started sharing my favorite stories February 29, 2012.

I have written our stories down for years and I take pictures of everything, clearly.


Avery is really is not happy

because I am taking a picture

instead of helping him

get the bag off of his head

He is 4 in this photo



Avery is the “oldest” of the twins and likes to say since they are identical twins and came from the same egg he “made” Mitchell.   Avery is now 12.






Mitchell just happy I’m taking

his picture despite not being able

to get the bag stuck on his head.

He is 4 in this photo. 





Mitchell is 12 now and he says he is a “chick maggot”.  Mitchell thinks he is a middle child?







This is our Peter.

Enough said.

Peter is four in this photo.






Peter is now eight…

…and has had an entire post dedicated to things he has said called,

“The $hit my kid says is funnier than the $hit your dad says.”




Jim is my husband and while he was in medical school I began emailing him stories of our kids for him to read when he had a minute or two, knowing he was missing out on these “priceless” moments.


It may have also have been to explain my future trip to the nut house that I didn’t realize was an unobtainable goal.

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I would send our favorite story in our annual Christmas letter.  People began requesting I add them to the growing mailing list to receive the “DREADED” Christmas letter I decided this may be a better idea.

She doesn’t care where she sleeps as long as it’s on me.

Our Mutt Lilly (if she could talk)  “My brothers have found a new way to entertain themselves… When I am outside they yell, “Lilly in the house!” The funny part to them and not me is when I barrel through the yard and leap up the stairs and…this is the part that makes them laugh…I slam face first into a SHUT door. I don’t mind. I like making them laugh but our mom made them stop.

If you need a laugh today…

Ten Things We Learned This Weekend

Another Holiday That Tries to Turn Me Into a Liar

I have some serious stories to tell too.

Not Everyone had a Mother to Celebrate

What I cannot figure out is why they have reality shows called “The Real Housewives of…” but no one has a reality show of what a REAL housewife’s life is like. We have the most crazy, fun, REAL times in a crazy, fun, real, gated community with our families.  The best part is that we know how abnormal it all is and we go with it.

Here I am with our traveling Nutcracker, In August.

He enjoys Grey Goose and brunettes.


I write down our stories because, let’s face it, I am never going to make a scrap-book.

“If you would just smile she would STOP taking our picture!”  

Our Norman Rockwell moment.

I just started February 29, 2012 and so far I feel like I’m giving birth…mostly that legs apart and up in the air while naked in a well-lit room with strangers…feeling.

“Look mom!”

“You keep an eye out Peter while we sneak a kiss.”

“Those aren’t real boobies mom!  They just have sponges under the shirt!”

The stories I write are to give our kids one day.  Having a forum* to share our “funnies” encourages me to write them down so that when they have children of their own…

I can show them that they will only get to the brink of insanity.

Ha, take that!  The “nut house” would be a vacation and God needs parents to stay home and take care of their kids!  I will be sitting back laughing at my grandchildren’s “funnies” while watching my own grown kids squeegee the cooking oil off the floor.

I’m pretty sure their kids will one day POUR COOKING OIL ON THE FLOOR to slide around on or POUR A GALLON OF MILK INTO THE CARPET to see if it makes its way to the pipes that we should have NEVER told them run all over under the floors.

Peter is Tom Sawyer.  I can prove it.

So I may be new to blogging but I have years worth of stories that I will try to deliver daily to make you smile, laugh, think, love and possibly occasionally cry.

* My parents were hippies and I may not have made it to school as often as I should have to learn grammar and punctuation.

That is your warning.

I write as I think and am already aware I do not know how to use a comma or most punctuation.  Up until now I made my husband proofread our Christmas letter which was the extent of anyone seeing my thoughts fall onto paper.  Jim likes to tell me my writing is like an ugly porn star and my punctuation is the ugly part.  Thank God he finds my inadequacies cute.  Oh, and thank God for spell check.

Please don’t make me regret this thing yet.

What have I gotten myself into?

People like to tell me my kids are funny. I always reply with all kids are funny. It is wrapping your mind around the moment and finding the humor.

Halloween 2011 and yes, that is Doogie Howser, MD and Vinny.

 Mitchell and Avery are IDENTICAL twins and this is how much they looked alike before the can of black hairspray.

I believe in having a grateful heart and being joyful mother of children.  I am trying my best to instill in my children that we have to find things to be grateful for in order to be happy.  I am also sarcastic and not afraid to laugh AT MY KIDS, as well as with them.  I also think it is important for my kids to see adults having fun.  I want them to look forward to growing up as well as enjoying each stage.

“Oh no Bat Baby, have mercy!”

I want to create a place for people to check after they have read the day’s news in the car pickup line at school or on the side of a practice field and now you need a smile.

“Mom, the baby is eating dirt…don’t worry he likes it!”

-Abbie Gale,

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Hit the “Follow me” button and I will try to tell you a story regularly that you can relate to.  A story that makes you smile, laugh, think, love cry or cry laughing.



Summer Camp

Saying goodbye at camp.Little brother Peter was left to watch Lilly our dog while we were unpacking Mitchell and Avery.  Peter was so worried our dog was upset that we were leaving his big brothers.  I think perhaps little brother was a little sad we were leaving them too.

Can you see how nervous Avery and Mitchell are while we check them in?


I went to summer camp for the first time when I was their age.

That is what I kept chanting to myself every time I had the thought to throw them back into  the car and drive them to Disney World so I wouldn’t have to leave them with strangers.

The summer camp I went to in Michigan was not sitting on the top of a mountain though.

I would have happily stayed with them for these views for a week.

The camps now email the parents daily pictures of their kids and what they are up to.

The camp sent me this picture the first day.  I snapped a quick pic of the computer screen on my phone and texted it to my husband.

It looks like my boys are fitting right in.

Do you have fond memories of summer camp when you were a child?  Did you decide to send your own children to sleep away camp?


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All that makes you smile, laugh, think, love, cry or cry laughing.

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Creek Tips


I love it when I come across something my boys have done that I didn’t know about.

Here is a video our Peter shot at one of his special critter catching locations.

The walk to the creek the time prior revealed a snake.  It looks like he went back with our big black rubber snake to leave out in hopes it would scare away any snakes that were venomous, while he could look for newts.

Thought you might enjoys…

My story, just yesterday, about same black snake and one of its evil doings.

How To Tell Your Lawn Guy You Are Very Sorry


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An Update With Nothing Dead to Report

Our Tom Sawyer, (Peter) caught a squirrel with his live trap within four hours.

It was immediately let go after enjoying its apple.

Peter has had requests to catch some bunnies in a neighbors vegetable path and relocate them.  He is so happy to go over in the evenings and set up his little trap.

I think it is genetic.

Here is the story about his long line of trapping ancestors back to Native American and French fur traders.

The live trap he begged for is working much better that the method I suggested.  My method kept him BUSY for hours.  I like methods that keep little boys busy!

A Mother’s Guide on How to Trap a Rabbit

  1. Box
  2. Twine, Very Long
  3. Stick
  4. Carrot
  5. Patience and the Ability to be Very Quiet
Yes I know they are doing it wrong but it is a process.

A father goes to the hardware store and buys a box trap.  

A mother lets them try for two months in glorious silence with gratitude that the boys are busy.

Here is the story about his long line of trapping ancestors back to Native American and French fur traders.


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Boy Versus Racoon Versus Macy’s

I promise you there is more to this than it appears. Just keep reading.

“Exactly what would a raccoon want to eat the most?”

Yes, our eight-year-old Peter asked this. Yes, I know what wretchedly mean creatures raccoons can be and I know they are smart, can be trained as pets, and I also know they can have rabies.

“What time does Ace Hardware close in North Carolina?”

“What time do we have to leave by to get to Ace Hardware back home before 7:00?”

“Please do not say no before I say all of this. Promise mom? Let me say EVERYTHING before you tell me no because I have thought about this and I know I can hold the live trap on my lap on the way home because I know the car is already full from our suitcases and us and the dog but it is a short drive from the hardware store to our house and I am afraid if we don’t go buy my live trap until after we go home and unpack the car Ace Hardware will be closed and I will have to wait until tomorrow to go buy my live trap.”

Don’t we totally look like we can fit a live trap?”


I am going to kill my husband and my father-in-law for showing Peter my father-in-law’s traps.

Oh yes, my FIL still traps. Yes, it is barbaric and no he will never stop. Don’t yell at me in the comments as I have been trying to get this man to vote for the right person every election for the twenty-one years I have known him and there is no changing him.

He lives on the marsh his French fur trapping and Native American ancestors lived on.

They have just changed the dwellings in which they sleep. Currently, my father-in-law resides in a modular home, (do not call it a double-wide or else they will knock your teeth out as it has a full unfinished basement and a back-porch.)

The motor home has been forever “for sale” on the back forty. I felt the need to snap some photos of it in case one of those shows like American Pickers or Antiques Road Show stops by and decides the “seventies mobile” needs to be in a museum. All the years I spent trying to keep this monster out of the background in the pictures I take while we are in Michigan and now I am snapping pictures of it to make us laugh when we are old.

“A Mere Blessing” I have never seen this man go to church a single Sunday.

I have known my husband long enough to remember the old farm-house they knocked over with a tractor in 1991. They put the modular on the exact spot the farm-house once sat.

I wrote a little about my husband’s childhood here in my story about my “WTF” license plate coming in the mail, randomly.

Jim’s dad even still sells the pelts and I even have to hear, every freaking year, how he got better prices in 1984.

Will someone please bring back wearing dead animals so I don’t have to hear my FIL complain about the prices anymore. Oh, and you have to make wearing MUSKRAT coats cool, (again?)

I still married my husband after watching his father, (duration of six dating years or as Jim says while I was waiting to see if he actually got into medical school) sit in front of the television, in the living room, with a five gallon bucket, and dead animals in a pile while he stretched their fur on wire thingies and then hang them all over the basement ceiling to dry.

I know that sentence is weird but that is how I would say it if you were sitting across from me.

Think about how much fun it is to trip the circuit while blow drying your hair, (when you are in town visiting) and you have to venture into the basement or as I like to call it…

The Dead Zone.

There is no switch to flip to turn on the basement light. You have to walk across the basement, in the pitch dark, and feel above your head for the chain to pull.


We come from a long line of weird. We both have to have a lot of weird behind us for this to not faze me. Ok, it fazes me…but for the love of God there is dead $hit dangling from the ceilings where I have to sleep!

Have you looked at a picture of me? (!!!)

This is me taking my own picture in San Francisco recently. I am smiling because behind is Union Square and I can see Macy’s from my hotel window, all half a dozen or so stories. I was happy because even if I couldn’t be shopping with the people all of the time I could stare at the people all walking around inside like a Richard Scarry Storytime book. I am not a good photographer and so…no Macy’s but I swear it is there…in all its glory!
It makes me happy and don’t judge! I am keeping the economy moving.
Dead former fluffy critters hanging above me with holes where their eyes used to be DOES NOT MAKE ME WARM AND FUZZY!
I do not have pictures of me at my father-in-law’s house holding my thumb up and smiling at what was formerly a mink but now is drying on a misshapen wire coat-hanger.

Don’t I just look like the kind of girl who would marry a man with a “Pet cemetary” in his basement?

I am so happy that our little guy doesn’t want to kill anything. He just wants to take a close up look and let it go, unless muskrat coats come back (???) in style and the prices of a water-rat pelt rise. Oh, I’m kidding! Stop it. We are animal lovers and if nothing else stimulators of the economy lovers! Why can’t my husband be from San Francisco?


All that makes you smile, laugh, think, love, cry or cry laughing.

Story Ideas: This is new and a way for me to remember, possible, future things to write about as I am such a pro, bahahaha! If I don’t do it right here and now, it is gone like the wind. How can I remember the minute details of a situation but I cannot remember to write down a few ideas that pop in my head at the end of writing a story? Anyone else like that? I will make myself crazy trying to remember an idea, that I knew was good, but couldn’t write it down at that exact moment. I also like the idea of running it by y’all and you might be all, “good Lord I am not coming back for another story about her embarrassing herself by getting an appliance stuck in her hair, again!” and you can just tell me that before you stop “following” me and WordPress informs me I can no longer use their service as no one is reading my nonsense anymore and would I also like the phone number to a mental health professional? Anyway, feel free to comment and “shut it” if it’s about my lack of REAL writing skills. I know already.

-Remind me sometime to tell you the cool story about how my husband’s family acquired their last name. It is really awesome and could be complete horse$hit, but were going with it since anyone who really knows if it’s true is dead.

-Remind me to tell you a story about where I worked before I had kids as I have more hunting stories than my husband, (primarily because he doesn’t hunt ever.) Don’t I just look like a girl who can walk around Cabella’s and talk camo and expedition gear and yet I have never been hunting in my life. So much talent I have going to waste it is no wonder I have not mastered grammar when I am too busy playing “name that camo” while walking around walmart. It is really easy as it is nearly always “Mossy Oak.”

Want a window into my mind? This also leads me…

-Remind me to tell you about how I sold my soul and saved a line of trees behind our old house and below a power line, all because I ran out of my back door talking “hunting smack” and throwing names around like “Bill Jordon” and “Realtree Outdoors” with the utility guy. It was good fortune that he wore a size ten boot and it was even better that I have an uncanny skill at guessing a man’s (only size ten) shoe size from great distances, (such as up in a tree.) Thank you Bill Jordon for the hats you signed for me to give to my groomsmen and sorry Jim’s friend that no longer was getting a Bill Jordon hat at rehearsal dinner. You may only understand this if your are from “hunting country” where your vacation time is planned around when opening season is.

PS, Anyone with any advice for “homesick?” I have a nine-year-old niece that is homesick and has a week to go until she goes back to Michigan. I only was able to plunk this story out because my darling husband picked her up like a sack of potatoes and removed her from my hip and took her on a golf cart ride on the golf course in the dark. I am a bit worried he is out there telling her if she doesn’t let me sleep in bed with him tonight he will leave her out in the middle of no where with the toads that make the creepy “baaaahhhh bahhhh” sound like sheep. For shizzel, I am feeling a bit like Jack from “The Shining.”

Gotta go I hear them pulling in. I am sure I will have to go pet the toads they caught on the golf course cart ride.

For real, goodbye!

I have camo boots on but they didn’t get it in the picture.


Macy’s wins, always and forever.

Do Not Tell My Kids About The Zombie Apocalypse!

“I told my kids the Zombie Apocalypse has started in Miami and we are awaiting confirmation from the government. This is what I have been preparing my kids for at the shooting range.”

I received this text message from my girlfriend I call “Crazy Sarah” yesterday.

I call her that for reasons that are already obvious to you.

When she calls my cell phone the photo below comes up. She already knows I use it for her contact information. When I drove past the sign I had to turn around to take a photo of it, then I sent it to her. I am wide open with teasing and she is fine with it. I like a girl that can handle ribbing like a man.

“Crazy” doesn’t scare me away. I decided before I met her I was going to be her friend.

I had heard about one of our country clubs members getting called before the board for her behavior during a couple’s golf tournament. The story spread like wildfire and I was fanning the flames. I wanted to know who this new member was that “borrowed” a plastic coyote out of one of my neighbors yards and drove around the golf course with it on top of her cart. I wanted to steal a plastic coyote intended to scare away pooping geese TOO!

I decided I liked her long before I really knew her. Now that I know her I am afraid to not be her friend.

She will be mid-sentence and suddenly go looking for her phone to call her husband. You will wait while she dials and when her husband answers you will hear her say, “DO NOT TOUCH MY DEAD SQUIRREL. I just got the maggots working. Leave it where it is.” Then she hangs up the phone and finishes her sentence. She collects bones.

So, you may remember my recent story “Two Broke(n) Girls” about my unlikely friendship and the reference letter I wrote for my bestie to give her new neighbors after they have met her the first time and decided they don’t like her, like I did. Well, my friend did indeed sell her house and I am distraught. Her family is going through their closing procedures and I am, (trying) to sound like a supportive friend, (because that is one of the things she taught me.)

Then I hit a moment of genius. Well, first I asked another friend that owns a nursing home if I could borrow a couple of dead bodies for a few hours before they have them “officially” hauled away.

When he didn’t respond to my text I had ANOTHER moment of genius!

Crazy Sarah and her animal bones! Crazy Sarah and her animal bones and my best friends home inspection! All I have to do is move Crazy Sarah’s dead-critter-science-experiment to my besties sealed crawl space. Throw in a few index cards with dates in front of the dead stuff and add a photo of my adorable fluffy dog, Lilly, and a future date written on her index card and…

They aren’t moving anywhere!

This was even better than the dead old people in the crawl space. That would have been a logistical nightmare and their yard is steep so hauling Fred and Myrtle would have been a two person job.

Then I remembered the high-pitched, sing-song voice that Crazy Sarah used when she said to her husband, “Do not touch my dead squirrel. I just got the maggots working. Leave it where it is.She was smiling as she said it.

I cannot move Crazy Sarah’s dead stuff. She will kill me and I will be part of her new “dead stuff collection.”

Ironically while I was writing this Jim and my boys were discussing music and I heard Jim say, “Suri, define “Crazy Train” and play song from “YouTube.”

Here I am with “Crazy Sarah” the bone collector.

She asked what we were going to do for the next picture and I said, “I’m gonna lick your nose!”  This is why I’m holding her cheeks and trying reach her nose and she is wearing a shocked face.  Who knows, maybe she calls me “Crazy Abbie.”

Here is to all of the friendships that help each of us be who we are. My bestie makes me proud to be a mom and mother and “Crazy” reminds me that just because we are those things it doesn’t mean we can’t have fun and…explore our own hobbies???

Abbie, All that makes you…

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We Would Live In A Zoo, Maybe We Do?

“I have decided I do not want a Veiled Chameleon anymore.  I would like a Jesus Christ Lizard instead.”  – Peter

He has been talking about this chameleon for MONTHS.  So I ask him why he changed his mind.  I also added the appendage to the question, “When your wife agrees one day.”  This is how I now answer pet requests.  “Sure, you can buy a ball python, as long as your wife agrees one day.”

Don’t judge. I spend every day making them put things back outside that they “rescued” from the pond.

His reply, “I want  a Jesus Christ Lizard because they walk on water.”

I answer, “That’s cool.”

(Photo courtesy of Strange Animals)

He adds, “Besides, you wouldn’t let me have the chameleon because it is a hundred dollars and if Jesus Christ dies he was only thirty-five bucks.

I don’t need a “wing man” I need an assistant to spend the day reasoning with three little boys why we don’t live in a zoo.  Oh, and to wash their turtle hands and check them for leaches…

Ok folks, this is a boy thing right?  Please tell me this is normal or else I am going to have to buy them a pet store one day with their college money.

– Abbie, All that makes you…

Ten Things We Learned This Weekend  (Animal rescue in our backyard recently)

– Video Game That Goes Terribly and Hilariously Wrong (

Video Game That Goes Terribly and Hilariously Wrong

I was in the kitchen cooking and I hear horror movie screaming coming from the family room.

I turn around from the stove to see what was going on.

I see our three boys sitting around the laptop in a huddle.

Kind of like this…

The boys all begin yelling and have looks of terror on their faces. They have now backed up away from the lonely laptop.

The thoughts that are racing through my head…has the child safety features on our internet failed. What have they happened across…

I am now racing towards them as one of the older boys pushes his twin brother towards the laptop and he steps forward and slams the laptop shut while cringing. They begin to turn on each other.

“Why did you build it that short?”

“You should have sent a zookeeper sooner to catch it!”

Oh my word…I hesitantly open the laptop to see a ZooTycoon “NOTICE” on the screen that tells me a lion was eating the park visitors.

Our youngest, Peter, has tears in his eyes and says to his brothers, “Why did you let it eat those children?”

Zoo Tycoon. The game I bought for the kids because it was supposed to be happy and make their minds plan and organize, they get to create habitats and care for animals…lets the animals eat the zoo’s guests if you build the habitats wrong?

There are shrieks coming from the laptop. My three sweet boys have their eyes covered up as I shut down the game.

This really, really makes me laugh.

Have you ever met a person and thought that there was no chance you could ever be friends with them? I have a friend that is moving away and I have written her a reference letter to give to her new neighbors in case they judge her on their first impression like I did. Here is that story…

2 Broke(n) Girls

My kids need to be shipped off to a farm for a summer to toughen them up. So stinkin’ cute.

Sometimes You Have To Be Bad To Remind Yourself You Are A Dog

Sometimes you just have to let “bad” happen.  Not only did I watch it.  I encouraged it.  I took pictures and I videotaped it.


Our mutt Lilly has never done anything that has ever resembled being an animal.

She doesn’t scratch herself, she uses a pillow under her head to sleep and she doesn’t even lick her butt.

She is telling me with her eyes to “go get her boys from school.”

She has NEVER dug a hole or even wanted to play with another dog.

Then the chipmunk ran under our lamp-post yesterday.  I knew she would never get it and if she did she would just want to cuddle with it.  Here she is stealing a cuddle from an unsuspecting soul.  Oh, it’s me but the one of Jim spooning her is better but I am afraid he will shoot my laptop.

She is a chicken dog.  Look here at her a couple of weeks ago hiding from a baby goose from behind a chair.

It must have run up into the post.  I even recorded it.  The boys were at school and I knew they would be shocked at our dog…well…acting like a dog?

I slapped this thing up here a few different ways since I am new to this.  They are all the same video.  I couldn’t get the first one to play so I added the Youtube version.

I cannot wait to play the funny video for the boys.

I even replanted the pansies and fixed it all up pretty again.

I had sleeping kids in the room and so I couldn’t have the sound on and so…We will see when it posts how it looks.  I don’t think I will ever be a movie maker.  Ha ha!

Jim Thinks it is hilarious how she sneaks up and sleeps on me.

For two years she lived
only in our kitchen and for four years she never went in a bed.

One day the kids were watching a movie laughing and she jumped up and we all FROZE!

Best Field Trip Answer, Ever…

Our first grade field trip to the farm this week…

Peter would run away to be a bee keeper.  

This was the highlight of his trip to the farm. 

That is him in the ball cap.

I love the personality of goats.  

My “animal personality” might be a goat.

The “goat me” gets to hang with friends.  You make me mad and I bump you in the butt with my horns.  I have to feed everyone, all the time.  I get to “slow blink” at you if you annoy me.  Frankly, I think that I sound like a goat nagging my kids all the time to do things like, get their socks out of the trees or reminding them we have five bathrooms and peeing in the sink is NEVER acceptable.  Baaaaa….baaaaaa……baaaaaaa!!!!!

This cow will be having a calf in a couple of months.

SInce I give birth to “farm animals” myself, (I have never given birth to less than double digits) I wanted to hug the poor cow in the 91 degree heat.

Having grown up on a farm myself and having had visited many “farms” for field trips, this was by far the best.  It was not a petting zoo.  The animals were brought in by each REAL farm that raised cattle, chickens, horses…  The people talking to the kids for the most part were 4-H kids.  Each “station” lasted seven minutes and then they rang a bell and the kids rotated.  They even brought in a vet to show the equipment they use.  They brought in a bee keeper who explained why bees are so important to us all and shouldn’t be feared.  They had stations for each type of farm animal as well as planting and harvesting and a station for byproducts of farming.  This is fascinating to a county of first graders.    We live in a rural area so these animals, (like the cattle) were brought in from farms right next to the school.  The majority of the children that attend our school though come from two golf course communities that are nestled in farm country.  For many of these kids this is their first experience with being up front and personal with the smells of a farm.

Best response to a question asked…


“What parts of the animals do we NOT eat?”


“The private parts.”

If it’s my kid I will laugh until I fall over, but I can’t when it’s someone else’s kid.

I hid behind a combine because inside of me lives a 12 year old.

What would be your animal avatar personality?


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If you want a story about another field trip I took our older boys on that ends with a naked lady then go here…

Second half.