"That there dog's a BABY EATER!"

A few of you know I used to work out of the house for a living. In fact, I used the same equipment I now do technical support for. So, yea, I too was once and idiot who called in with mundane and stupid questions. But, what I did with my equipment (when not calling technical support) was "breathing and exercise tests" for folks in a couple doctors offices. A vast majority of my patients were in Kentucky, a vast majority of that demographic were from the HILLS of Kentucky.

If ya'll have spent any time in Kentucky, ya know you have some city folk. You know, the people living in major metropolis cities like Lexington, Louisville, and maybe "Southern Cincinnati." Those folks are like you and me. We were shoes, shower regularly, brush our teeth, and realize a doily does not need to be under every item in our home. Not that there is anything wrong with doilies, but they are a little dated. But, there are also those folks from the Hills. Those folks love their doilies, their Bible, their Aquanet and those big poofy curtains. Beyond that they also LOVE to tell us their VERY colorful stories some would make a "lady of the night" blush (oh, lady of the night = hooker in case you did not know), others make you scratch your head and think "No way."

Here is one of my FAVORITE stories from my Kentucky patients. I would tell you I am not using names so I can protect the innocent, but really it's because I cannot remember the name :)

Let's start with Jethro. Jethro is the man who told me, "That there dog's a baby eater." How the story goes is, I always talk. In my job back then, it was me and the patient. It was my job to make them feel comfortable and to get a good test effort for them (ain't nobody cheating in my lab for them to get sum dis-bility). So, I started with general small talk. He had dogs, I had a dog. So I asked, what kind of dog he had. He had a mutt, and I told him I had a Doberman. His face went pale, " A Doberman? That there dog's a baby eater. Ya'll got any babies? Cuz if you does you best gets rid of that dog. He'll eat it. Can't trust them Dovermans." I filed that story away so I could tell Jeff later on. Our "Doverman" is a "baby eater." God help us.

If I still knew Jethro, I'd show him that picture above. My Doverman with my young-in. CLEARLY Mag is considering eating her. Clearly, I was so distraught that had to run to the next room (leaving the baby eater with the baby) to get my camera and document this moment. Yep, Jethro you're right, that Magnum is a DANGER. yeah, right. That dog is better behaved than my 2 legged son. The 2 legger is the one I fear leaving the baby with. And I know he ain't no baby eater either.

There is no “quick” with 2 kids….my fugitive…

Ok, see those cute kids above, the top one, yep he’s a fugitive. At any point in time, I expect the Target po-po (i.e. police) to come and take him away. What’s the story, here it is As I remember it….

Last night after work I decided to escape our home and take both kids to Target. Of course the main reason I was going to Target was to return a couple items. And of course I arrive at Target realizing those items are STILL sitting on the counter at home…again. Oh well. Due to my paranoia of the swine flu, I decide to wear Tootie (names changed to protect the innocent/guilty), and Goose will sit in the cart with the fabric cart cover acting as a buffer between teh Target germs and his mouth. Of course, Goose will move the fabric to chew on the cart, but I’m trying here. A small aside, the pediatrician told me my likelihood of getting Swine flu at Target was low. Good to know.

So, the scene is set. A beautiful Momma (it’s my story I can be beautiful and dressed nice- but in reality it was jeans and a sweatshirt) with her beautiful, well behaved children. As we enter into the doors of Target, Tootie falls asleep and Goose begins gnawing on the cart like a beaver eating a tree branch. Ugh. Anyway, we enter into the children's section and look at some sweatpants and PJ’s for Connor (so much for code names). Then the normal Target shopping begins. Of course I am singing the “ABC” song with Connor the whole time for his, and all of Target’s amusement. Our Target shopping finishes and we check out.

I travel to the car and begin to unload the child I am wearing and place Connor in his car seat. As I remove the cart cover (which is a ball now), a pair of sweat pants fall out. I balme not seeing them on Connor, as he wanted to play with them on the store. In order to keep him amused, I gave him the pants. Oh crap, I forgot about those. So, I put Calista back in her carrier, pick up Connor, walk back into Target and give the nice Customer Service lady the sweatpants we almost shop lifted. She laughed and said no problem.

I return BACK to the car, lock in Calista, set Connor in his seat. Look down, and there is ANOTHER pair of $3.99 Hanes sweat pants. Son of a…. ugh. Now Calista is screaming and Connor is whining. I cannot do it again. So I toss the pants in the car and drive off. As I drive off to confess my Target sin to Jeff, I realize Connor is wondering around the back. In my haste I forgot to lock him in. So I lock in the kid and we travel to get a “quick” dinner at Chipolte. Both Kids. Under 2… Line to the DOOR.

I’m wearing Calista again and holding Connor. Trying to keep my left arm from falling off with the extra 22+ pounds it’s carrying. Plus the 11+ in the carrier I’m wearing with Calista. So, basically in line, for 20 minutes it’s me and 33+pound of weight. Wiggling weight no less. And I’m listening to this anti-American guy behind me stating he’s NEVER been to Chipolte?! Mr. Man, Chipolte is as American as Apple pie. What is wrong with you?! FYI- he decided to get a salad. Who gets a salad at the restaurant that has addictive additives in their rice? Only a freaky un-American guy. FREAK!

I FINALLY get to the start of the counter, place my order. Wait some more,then go to pay out. I place Connor on the counter and what happens? Yep, he starts STEALING Chipolte people tips. He begins hording the dollars in his little grubby hands. I try to pay and also pry the money from Connor’s hands. Thank God he decided it was Ok and did not throw a hissy fit. We get back to the car. I ensure EVERYONE is locked in. Calista is screaming again, Connor is sad his drink if empty, but gets happy again when I get him a chip.

All in all, from 5:30pm to 7:00pm I did my “quick” Target trip to buy a lamp. Instead I ended up with a lamp AND shop lifted sweatpants, and my “quick” pick up dinner at Chipolte. I arrive home and the husband says, “I have no idea how you did that with those 2 kids.”

How I did it was a mystery. And yes, I am blaming the shop lifting on Connor. Oh and why I had to buy a lamp…let’s just say the words, Connor, gravity and crash. Hence the new lamp.