Our house, in the middle of our street

     I don't gripe about housework the way my mom used to. I've really developed my own style. I think she would be proud of me. All kidding aside, my house looks like a federal disaster area. I'm not going to MomShame and upload pictures because I don't want my kids to get teased at school. For a while I would try to clean up if I knew someone was coming over but I've since given up. People come over, my kids have play dates, they make comments about the chaos, whatever. I can't put everything on hold indefinitely.
    In reality, it looks like my kids have been home for two weeks and one of them had a baby in the middle of those two weeks. 'Cause that's what really happened. But if you dig a little deeper, (go ahead. Just be careful. I can't guarantee your safety at this time.) you'll see that it is the home of a somewhat overwhelmed person who's been trying to hold it together and be what other people need her to be. This hasn't been working out for me. I'm not really "present" for anyone and I'm about to do some re-evaluating and prioritizing. But more on that another day.
   My 15 year old daughter had a baby on the 22nd of December. It's been a rough 9 months. She's always dealt with anxiety and holds herself to very high standards. Teen pregnancy did little to improve upon either of those. Deciding to keep the baby was an angst ridden choice- for all of us. At one point she was hospitalized for almost 2 weeks due to the anxiety. She was already behind in school and after being out for 2 weeks, she just couldn't get caught up. So she dropped out the last quarter. She was now cut off from her friends at school as well as her roller derby team mates. Again, not helpful with the anxiety. Being the polite, perfectionistic kid she is, she would wait until I had wrangled her younger siblings into bed and to sleep before letting me know she was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. So, I would stay up until 3 a.m. with her, talking, crying, watching Dr. Who (which I could never follow because she was so far into it, so don't ask me about it. I don't know). Then I would get up around 7 and try to get the younger two kids to school on time. We were usually late so I got "a bit" of flak from their teachers about tardiness, attendance, blah, blah. In all fairness, once they knew what was going on at home, they didn't say anything else.  If I didn't have a PTA function going on at the elementary school, I would go home and try to get some sleep. I knew I needed to do a lot around the house but I really felt like my family needed me to be rested and not grouchy.
     My two youngest kids have ADHD, heavy on the H. I know somone, somewhere is going to 1) suggest a therapy they read about or 2) try to tell me ADHD isn't real. Save it. I don't care. I know what I live. Every. Stinking. Day. My son was medicated but the meds were making him very whiny and emotional. My youngest daughter was not medicated because I couldn't find anyone to treat her until she was 7. She gets bored and antagonizes her brother until he blows up at her and then she tells on him. Both of them are champion mess makers. Neither one of them is good at getting rid of things or picking up after themselves. Trying to get them to pick up or help out is a struggle. I offer incentives. I impose consequences. I make checklists to help them remember to clean up after themselves and help around the house. I have helped them set up their bedrooms into "zones" to facilitate cleaning. I have made my son a very detailed Room Cleaning Checklist so he can clean his room without me. I still end up doing it myself because I catch myself losing it when they whine, argue, cry and generally spend more time trying to get out of work than the job would have taken in the first place. It's not always like this. In fact, lately they've become much better over all about helping. But not always.
     I can hear the advice. My thought is this- we only have so much breath allotted to us in our lifetimes. You can use that breath telling me I'm doing it wrong and this is how I SHOULD be doing it, or you can be telling your loved ones how much you love them. The choice is yours but, remember, my husband and I have big families. I've heard it for the last 15 years.
     Add to that the once weekly counseling appointments for my son and 15 year old daughter, her ob appointments, and later counseling for my 7 year old daughter, most of which I tried to schedule while my husband was at work so it wouldn't interrupt his days off. He's an ER nurse who works two to four 12 hour night shifts and alternating weekends. Somewhere in there, I managed to get elected Treasurer of the elementary school PTA. For some reason that I can't remember now, I accepted the nomination. Throw in phone calls at odd hours from my 20 year old daughter who's in the Navy and stationed on the east coast. The most notable phone call being the one in which she called to tell me she had locked her keys in the car.
    Then there's the stuff. Oh my freakin' dog, the stuff. I got rid of so much stuff when we moved and I vowed never to accumulate so much stuff again. But my smaller children will have nothing to do with this vow. I don't know how they manage to bring more stuff into my house because I always tell them "NO!" when they ask for stuff, but they do.  I'm currently deluding myself with an 8 Weeks to Declutter Your House plan a friend posted on Facebook. One room a week, they say. Thirty minutes to an hour, they say... And I don't want to just get rid of my kids stuff when they aren't looking, for various reasons. I'm afraid they'll become stay hoarders because they're afraid someone will throw away their stuff when they aren't looking. I also don't feel like they'll learn some decision making skills and take pride in their accomplishments if they aren't a part of the decluttering process.
    I know this sounds like a lot of whining. It is. I know a lot of people have a lot more going on and they handle it just fine. And I have days where nothing bothers me. And I could stay home and organize etc. but I go out to lunch with a friend because, if that friend died tomorrow, I know I'd be much more glad I had that memory with her than a nicely organized cupboard.
   I was writing a condensed version of this to a family member who will be arriving in 2 days to explain why my house didn't look ready for company and I realized that despite everything, I'd lived to tell about it. And that sometimes, things are out of your control and there is no "taking the bull by the horns" and mastering the situation. You just dig your heels in and hang on until it's over. You respond the best way you can. And that's good enough. And sometimes "good enough" is great.

I AM somebody! and thoughts about socks

     Whenever I feel like I need some alone time, I just mention all the things that need to be done around the house. WHOOSH! They're gone. Without a trace.  Ahhh...hello dishes, ol' buddy, ol' pal! I give a lot of ultimatums but no one really takes me seriously. They know they can usually outwait me (is that a word? It is now.) and I'll deal with it before it drives me to the brink of insanity. For instance, one of my brilliant offspring put the chocolate syrup bottle back in the refrigerator upside down before making sure the cap was securely closed. I discovered this when I tried to pry the mustard out of a thick layer of cold chocolate syrup. So, in my sternest "I'm not taking any crap of anybody" yet gentle, motherly tone, I told my precious babies that I would not buy any more chocolate syrup until SOMEBODY cleaned the chocolate out of the door of the fridge. I believe the 7 year old ( the one with the cute dimples the keep me from wringing her neck) said something to the effect that she knew she just had to wait because she knew I would eventually do it. I was about to get angry when the 15 year old who is, surprisingly, often the voice of reason, reminded me that while rude, the 7 year old wasn't off the mark.
  Let me back up a little further. My mom was from the South and had some interesting ways of describing the world. When someone would come up in the world a little, sometimes someone else would say, "Well, you just think you're someBODY!" It was usually a good natured ribbing and the up and comer was expected to pull the "Aw, shucks. I'm still the same guy." routine. ANYway, as I was scraping chocolate goo out of the refrigerator this afternoon, I realized- I AM some BODY!
  Another pursiut that allows me time to think is sorting socks. Unfortunately, I usually end up thinking about socks. Like-has anyone ever noticed the divorce rate among socks? It's tragic, really. Especially disturbing is when, not only does the old sock move out, a new one moves in. Seriously. I was folding socks the other day and there were random, single socks that I have never seen before. Divorce and (I hope) remarriage is the only plausible explaination I've been able to come up with.
   Socks should be easy math. Four dirty green toed socks+ detergent + fabric softener SHOULD equal four, clean, green toed socks. And some days it does. Like when I put all the socks in little mesh baggies before I wash them. Then, I pull them out, sort them and fold them. I tell my children, "Behold! I have cleansed and dried and matched your socks! We have socks to last  a fortnight!". And we rejoice because there are plentiful socks in the land.
   But, alas, it is not to last. After a few days, the children tell me the clean socks are no more to be found and I notice something rotten in the State of McLain (No...It's not the fridge this time. Somebody already cleaned it). No. As I walk through the house, I notice lone socks lurking in dark corners. The absence of fressh mud and foul odor leads me to believe they're clean. Why it's one of the little green toed guys I folded just the other day. And down the hall is another, static clinging to a little purple toed crew length I've never seen before. What is happening? Do socks have an electric charge that I'm unaware of? And are they all positively charged so that when I fold them, they still repel one another? Or, is it as I mentioned earlier and they've all gone Kramer vs. Kramer on me? DO socks have a perfect mate? A sole mate, if you will? Do they have thoughts, opinions and preferences? Should socks be granted Personhood? And if so, do you think one of them would help me clean the fridge?

Thankful for the end of vacation, otherwise known as whining

   I was low on energy today so I drank one of The Hubby's energy drinks. I don't know if I can mention the brand but I will say I'm STILL waithing for a thunderbolt to hit me with the ability to play bass guitar like that guy in that band that's really good.

  Had a David Byrne moment as I tip-toed down the hallway to avoid stepping on Monopoly pieces in my stocking feet, to go shampoo the whoopie pie filling out of my hair and find a shirt that wasn't spattered with cake batter. 

  My kids have been out of school all week and my husband has worked 4 of the 8 nights they've been off. This means I have them for 24 uninterupted hours. Times 4. And then they've had friends over. And today, Lia has beeen an almost constant stream of neccessity.  I have hit the wall. Next year, I am going to keep them so busy, they'll be begging to go back to school.

  I meant to take them swimming yesterday but got side tracked. I remembered around 5 and could have taken them since the pool didn't close until 8:30. But The Hubby was going to work and I didn't want himto feel like I was ditching him. I really regretted the decision around 7. So today, when they asked to go to the playground, even though it was cold and dreary, I said yes. And even though we didn't get ready until almost sunset, we went. They wanted to have a picnic. So they were lugging the picnic basket to the car and oohing and aahing over the sunset and the moon.
  Before the park there was an aborted attempt to bake with the easy bake oven. Missing instructions= weird cake batter soup. We did make pink sugar cookie in the microwave. No that wasn't a typo. One pack of mix makes one grocery store sized cookie. Then we made whoopie pies from a box. (*Cough* I'd rather starve*cough*) Let's just say they weren't my Mama's. Canned vanilla frosting is not good on anything. I don't care how many rainbow sprinkles you put on it.  Oh, yeah. There were the multiple attempts to keep Lia and friend upstairs while Bekah painted the nursery. And a shower. I got a shower today. That doesn't always happen when the kids are home and Hubby works. Unless, I get up before the kids or sneak one in after they go to sleep pass out. I announced my plan to shower and said, "all in favor, say 'Aye'.". The "ayes" were a little too enthusiastic, I thought.
  So to sum it up, I managed to drink an energy drink, make weird, counterfeit baked goods, bathe and take kids to a park while Bekah moved furniture and painted an entire room including the trim. Oh, yeah. I halfway loaded the dishwasher. Sometimes, my lack of productivity starts to bother me. When that happens, I have to go lie down until the feeling passes. (Mom 3 1/2, Bek 1. I win, right?)  

Ian and his fixin's for home made salsa. I have tried about 5 times to get this  picture to load below the next paragraph.  Just gave up. 

     The playground in the semi dark was actually nice if you don't count the part where I let the kids out and went to park the car and before I got the car parked, Ian had tripped on some metal steps on a play structure, scraped his shins in three places and was lying on the ground crying and clutching his legs. He claimed walking was a little difficult so he was relegated to playing the zombie most of the time we were there. We got home just as it started sprinkling. Then the girls carpeted the living room with stuffed animals which I will have to put up Monday after several reminders and threats to send them to Goodwill tonight and tomorrow. And, Ian found a cache of McDonald's picante sauce pouches and is told me he has enough to make home made salsa. Did I mention I'm kinda lacking in the "domestic" department?
  Tea party over, they moved on to a game called Hullaballoo, which is great for helping kids learn to follow directions, or so I shall continue to hope. Lia's friend won several rounds in a row, which is purely by chance. But of course, when one of the kids comments on it, I can't control my sarcasm and interject, "Becasue she's cheating." This didn't have the humorous effect I wanted. It really did more to incite a riot. I don't drink but this is one of those days when I begin to contemplate doing so.
  

Author's note: The toys actually got put up before Lia's friend went home! Here's to good influences and hoping they rub off on my kids!

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Dad

  Today marks the day that, in 1995,  my dad died. I had just turned 23 a few weeks earlier and was really naive enough to think he was going to get better. I was so confident, I moved 892 miles away a few months before his death. Since I only lived 3 hours away, we stayed overnight at his house before setting out the next morning. As we hugged goodbye, the thought "this is the last time you'll see him" ran through my head. As usual, I second guessed myself and drove off into the wild blue yonder to "start over" in Mobile, AL.
  He had been diagnosed with cancer in 1992, while I was pregnant with my first child and when he said he was going to get better, I believed him. I was a Navy brat and I hadn't grown up around elderly of chronically ill people. I was completely ignorant. My husband, who grew up in a small town with extended family all around him, couldn't fathom that for a long time. I think he just gave up and said, "I get it." so I would stop trying to explain. It didn't occur to me to take time off from my crappy waitressing job in Maryland to help take care of him in Norfolk, Virginia. I didn't know you were supposed to do these things. It didn't help that I was getting divorced at the time and, rather than spend her entire childhood in court, I gave in and let my ex-husband have primary care of our daughter. My world was literally falling apart. I feel guilty to this day that people I had only met a few times drove him to doctor's appointments and checked on him when his girlfriend was at work. I have to remind myself that I was "just a kid" at the time and just didn't know.
  About a month before he died, he told his brother in Oregon that he wanted to go home. So, my aunt bought them some airline tickets and my uncle went to get my dad. The doctors said he couldn't make the trip so my uncle helped him into a wheelchair and told the staff they were going for a walk. It was, from all accounts, a miserable flight for my dad, my uncle and the guy sitting behind them who got mooned every time  my uncle had to get behind the seat and pull dad up when he slid down in his seat. (ok. now I'm laughing thinking about the fact that "crack" seems to be a problem for the men in my family. My dad was always doing something around the house or on a vehicle and his crack was always there to help him and one of my cousins has the same "problem"- any time, anywhere) A few days later, one of the nurses from the hospice called my aunt to see if he had made the trip alright. She and my aunt laughed about the fact that the staff suspected my uncle and dad were making a run for it, but just let them go. He was in a hospice and even then, I believed he was going to get better.
  The day before he died, my aunt helped him call me. We talked for a few minutes and I don't even remember what about. I remember he sounded sleepy. I had written him a letter and my aunt encouraged me to send it and write to him often.  I promised I would and we hung up. I cried because he sounded so weak.
  The next day, my aunt called to tell me he had died. She had gone in to sit with him and she suggested he take a walk on the beach, using guided imagery to aid in the pain management. He grew up on the Oregon coast, which is often covered in thick fog. I like to think he walked into that dense fog and kept going.
   As I get older, the thing that hurts the most is that, in my selfish youthfulness (or is it youthful selfishness?), all I cared about was getting the world to listen to ME and to look at ME and tell ME I was wonderful. I didn't ask questions about where he came from and what his thoughts and opinions were about much of anything. I didn't take the time to really get to know him.
   On top of my lack of curiosity, another reason I didn't ask questions was that our family instituted "Don't ask, Don't tell" long before Clinton exhaled that phrase. My dad had fought in Viet Nam but he didn't talk about it. I'm glad he didn't burden me with the reality of war as a child but as an adult, I would like to know about his experience since it shaped so much of my childhood. He didn't talk about it with my mom, either and I think that was because he just didn't want to relive the loss of shipmates and friends and the gruesome events he lived through. Back then, you came home and went back to your normal life. You just carried on as though you'd been out on an extended business trip. To open that up may have made all those emotions unmanageable.
   But it's not as though we lived in a vacuum, just existing side by side and never connecting. Dad loved the outdoors and there was lots of quality family time camping, boating, hiking in the woods or puttering in a garden. And we talked. A lot. My dad loved to read and was always excited about a new book- usually in the sciences or philosophy. He and my mom instilled a love of reading, and books in general, in me when I was very young.
  Everything I have tried to write from this point on sounds like a syrupy obituary. You know the one where they take half a page trying to convince the world that Charlie was a great guy who loved everyone and everyone loved him right back. So I'm going to wrap this up with a list of things I have come to realize I have learned from my dad.
   1) self reliance- My dad was big on this. He didn't ask for help nor did he accept offers of help. I've come to realize this was a foolish policy. Which leads me to my next lesson-
    2) learn from your mistakes- Dad used to say that the only stupid mistake is one you don't learn from. (I've learned a lot in 40 years)
    3) high standards- he held them for me but also for himself because...
    4) if it's worth doing, it's worth doing right.-and....
    5)  failure is not an option- And you've only failed if you stopped trying. So...
    6)  Keep a positive outlook
    7) "Put yourself in their shoes"- This used to drive me crazy! When I would complain about someone or disparage anything they did, this was his usual response. But it has served me well over the years. I feel like it has helped me to be a better nurse, parent, and friend. An added bonus is that I get to drive my husband and kids nuts with it!
   8)  A good leader doesn't ask his/her people to do anything he/she wouldn't do.Dad was a Senior Chief in the Navy so he tried to teach me about leadership and this is one thing that has stood out for me over the years.
And finally, this is not anything he ever said but definitely something that he lived-
9) stay curious!

Lia's rummage sale extravaganza

   I started doing something called The Compact about 2 years ago. For those of you who haven't heard of it, it started in San Fransico several years ago when a small group of people agreed to buy nothing new for a year in an effort to reduce waste, the impact of manufacturing on the environment and consumerism. Or something like that. Look it up. It's not always easy but it is getting easier and my kids have pretty  much accepted it as normal. I have ADD so disorganization can be a stumbling block because I sometimes forget that one does not simply walk into a thrift store or rummage sale and find exactly what one is looking for the first time. So I do end up having to buy new and paying full price occasionally. This weekend, however was a Compact success.
   The PTA had a rummage sale last weekend and I helped with the setting up and during the sale. We  had four days of donations, two of which I helped with and then the day of the sale. Since JR had to work some of those days, I had to take the kids with me. (get a sitter you say? We don't do that. It wouldn't be a PTA function if there weren't 6 or 7 kids providing crazy background noise and the custodian telling them to get off the stage and quit playing on the piano) This was like a three day trip to the mall for Lia. JR came and helped set up for a while the day before the sale as well. The prices were insanely low and an hour before we shut down, we handed people paper bags and told them they could fill a bag for $2. I was "working" (code for looking for cool stuff) and Lia was off "playing" (code for looking for cool stuff) with another little girl. I laughed when I saw the other little girl holding up a dress and her mother telling her, "That doesn't fit you. That's why we donated it." I told Lia she could get a few things and to put them aside and I would pay for them at the end of the sale. I won't do that again. We ended up spending $48  but we got a ton of neat stuff , including but not limited to:
     an adult Nike Oregon Ducks football jersey. It's a 2X but I have 2 cousins who are big guys (tall) and they can fight over who gets it
   an Omega juicer that  retails for around $200. Don't get grossed out. We knew most of the people who donated stuff. When you go to someone's house to eat, you eat off their dishes, right?
   A dart board
   Matching, dark brown slipcovers for a couch and love seat. I'd been looking for some for my 15 year old Southwest print couch and love seat and these looked brand new.
  2 small Ikea shelves, one of which has a lamp attached. I'll put these in Lia's room because she loves to arrange and rearrange the tchotchkys in her room but doesn't really have a lot of room for them. The lamp also just happens to match Lia's room. :-)
  A Salad Shooter
 A cheetah print Snuggie that Ian immediately claimed.
 A pair of Kenneth Cole sandals that a friend donated after wearing once
A kids sized Nike Ducks football jersey.
A few miscellaneous clothing items for the kids, a TON of books ( because I can never pass up a book table at a rummage sale), A VCR with a coaxial connecting cable for an old school TV that we put in our guest room, A like new, cloth shower curtain to replace the one I've had since 2004 and a matching bath mat (to replace the one I've had since 2004), a few miscellaneous kitchen items: a 12 muffin pan to replace the 2 six muffin pans I've been using (not a necessity, just a personal preference.), a couple steel utensils to replace some of the plastic in my kitchen, some Pampered Chef measuring spoons- you know the adjustable ones that let you measure 1/4 teaspoon up to 1 tsp- so I can dispense with the handful of odd measuring spoons cluttering up my drawer, a wooden, folding dish rack and a magazine holder- they're great for holding kids flimsy paper back books. Somehow, I managed to come home with a queen sized dust ruffle which is weird because I don't have a queen size bed.
     I think my favorite item is the plastic "No Whining" sign. I couldn't decide which room to hang it in but settled on putting some string through the hole at the top and wearing it around my neck. The same friend who donated the shoes also donated her Snuggie collection. Since Lia is always using mine, I grabbed a pink one for her.

This is a close up of the dart board and Ian's first bulls-eye.  

   And remember when I laughed at my friend's daughter for trying to buy her own dress back? Yeah. I was washing the clothes Lia picked out and pulled out a dress that looked familiar. It should have. It belonged to JR's cousin's daughter (who graduates college next year), Bekah and then, last year, when she finally grew into it, Lia. I told you my kids were getting into the Compact, too.
  I know you didn't really start reading this post because you wanted to hear about my juicer and a couple of football jerseys. You came to see what Lia picked out when she was unsupervised and allowed to bag her stuff herself, away from mom's prying, censoring eyes. So, without further ado, I give you Lia's Rummage Sale Extravaganza (ganza, ganza, ganza!): A pictorial essay

A friend of mine wore this one Halloween and  Lia  and her son had played with it at their house so when she saw it , she snatched it up.

Some wall hangings that don't really (at all!) match her room and some stuffed animals- because she didn't already have a box overflowing with stuffed animals in addition to the pile on her bed.

A dress she not only found on one of the donation days, but changed into while we were still there. And a  butt ton of costume jewelry.

The dress, all the jewelry and the "high heels" she has pranced around in all weekend.

Myriad tchotchkys, mini train case, a wallet and brand new bath stuff.  I said I liked her wallet and wished I had seen it because I've been using the same wallet for years. She offered to look for one for me at next year's sale, since she's good at picking out wallets. Also, I didn't know she had chosen  the shower gel and body spray but they were new in the package so I let her keep them. The label on the body spray says Berries and Cream. Lia used some yesterday and it smelled like feet. 

The beginning of her Beanie Baby collection. yay

 Her key chain collection. Currently housed in her mini train case. Also a few more pieces of fine jewelry in the upper center of the collection.  

Aaanndd..One more random knicknack that slipped by me. 

Last t but not least, a couple more of Her Ladyship rocking The Hat.  

Birthday season has officially begun here at Hoose Ay McLain! We kicked it off with cookies for Ian's class and his birthday dinner tonight. He picked shrimp, salad and home made french fries, followed up by cake and ice cream. Bekah helped us start a new tradition of using leftover icing as war paint. Tomorrow is JR's birthday. We'll be meeting some friends at a place called Roscoe's for some pool. Saturday finds us at home for Ian's birthday party. Nothing fancy. We're just cooking out and letting the kids have a water gun war. Should be fun. I'm going to try to do what we call a quick company clean up tonight and get my shopping done tomorrow. Trying to keep it simple, sweetie. Enjoy your weekend ! 

The candle was hand made by Ian on a field trip to the Oregon Trail Discovery Center.  

Note the small dollop of frosting under his left eye

A new tradition is born. Icing becomes war paint

     

Our First Year Part 2 or "Wagons West!"

  It could have been an uneventful trip. If we had taken other people's kids. If we hadn't taken a jittery cat. If we could have sedated our kids for the entire 2600 miles. But we all know none of that happened. =)
  We pulled out of Millry, Alabama (where's that? you ask. My daughter, Bekah, will tell you, "First you get out your map of Nowhere. It's right in the middle.") 4 hours later than we planned. The trailer with all our worldly possessions (not counting the house worth of stuff we left in storage at my in-laws) was smaller than we anticipated so we had to pack a few more things in the back of our SUV than we'd initially planned. Bekah and the cat, Jeff,  were supposed to have the whole third row to themselves. But we put one of the seats down and all our electronics in the "way back" and the space formerly occupied by the seat. That left Bekah in the smaller of the seats and the cat in his carrier on top of the TV in the back. Oh yeah, and our luggage. And a box of pillows and throw blankets. Sounds comfy, huh?

All we needed was a rocking chair on top for Granny...

  We stopped for dinner at a restaurant by the freeway in Meridian,Mississippi. Since the cat had been cooped up for about three hours, I decided he needed fresh air and probably had to pee. We put a harness on him and hooked a leash to it and attempted to "walk" him in a vacant lot by the restaurant.  Did I mention he was jittery? Did I also mention that I'd only put the harness on him once or twice before and then only to make sure it fit properly? Did I mention as well, that we had lived in the country for most of his life and he wasn't accustomed to the sound of eighteen wheelers whizzing by on the freeway? Furthermore, the harness was for small dogs. I remember thinking it was stupid that the pet department of Walmart didn't sell harnesses for cats. How else was I supposed to take him out for a wee? As he jumped around at the end of the leash and somehow worked his way out of the harness and under a conveniently placed brush pile in under thirty seconds, I realized that they don't sell cat harnesses because there's really not much of a market for them.
  The brush was really thick and it being Mississippi in July, I was wary of snakes, so I didn't just reach in and try to pull him out. I don't remember now who took the kids in to eat and who stayed outside to try to coax the cat out of the brush but we traded off at some point. I do remember that JR was so upset, he couldn't eat his dinner and that he took the bag of cat food over to the brush pile so the cat wouldn't starve immediately. Despite the fact that we lived in the country, Jeff didn't venture far from the porch. I never walked out on the porch in the morning to be greeted by dead mangled critters.  Survival was not his strong suit. Before we left, we decided to try once more to find him.  JR and the kids went toward a ditch further away from the road and I went back to the brush pile. I heard a rustling noise and went over to the food bag. I fully expected to find a badger or raccoon but there was Jeff with his head in the bag! Talking softly to him, I eased over and was able to grab him before he could disappear back under the brush pile. I was so thankful, I almost cried.
   Apparently the truckers had failed to communicate to one another that there was a frightened cat at mile marker whatever and to find an alternate route because they were still racing by noisily. And Jeff wasn't over his fear of them. I held him in a death grip as I tried to get JR's and the kid's attention to let them know Jeff was safe. There was much rejoicing and Jeff was more than willing to get back in his carrier once we got to the truck.  Thus went the first three and a half hours of our trip.