Tales of Jane

Good Karma

If anyone remembers the bullying post from a few months ago then you will appreciate an update. Most of the “mean girls” decided to go to a different school which is awesome. Jane moved to a new class and is settling in just fine.

A friend, of myself and Supermom, contacted us today to let us know about an interaction she had. She met a young girl about Jane’s age and asked her what school she was attending and the girl said Tiger Montessori which is my daughter’s school. She asked, “Oh do you know Jane?”

“Oh yes. I met her last week! She is my new best friend.”

Her mother then explained that her daughter had been having trouble with some girls last year and was very nervous about not finding friends again this year. “Jane has been so nice and such a good friend. She really needed that this year.”

I teared up a little when I heard. It’s not a big overt thing but I’m proud of her.

Jane and I have been having some talks about the feeling of revenge, bullies seeking power, and the simple fact that the only way to win is to be a better person and commit to the long-game. It feels empty to tell your children things like that because there is no immediate relief for a wound. But I think those wounds need to heal slowly and leave what scars they will. Those battles either teach you to become the monster or defeat it. She was on the verge of joining the dark side and becoming bitter about how the other kids viewed her.

One of my favorite things about Jane is her knack for finding the wayward kids who don’t quite fit into the mainstream. She has a real power to befriend and include people who don’t always experience community with the other kids. She has a magnetism and energy and so much love. I told her all this and wrapped it up by saying, “Bad things are going to happen. Write that down. The only thing you can do to disappoint me is to forget all the good things about Jane because of a few bad things. Hold on to those good traits, those things that make you love. Go be a good person just to fly in the face of the few assholes who want to see you fall. Fly like a dove. Then shit on their windshield. Big goopy drops of love and understanding.”

Bullies want to be powerful but they are defeated from the outset, true power comes from the pack. From the friends that feel accepted and protected and are willing to stand beside you in return. I’m humbled to think that my daughters have already made impacts to other kids lives that will affect their lives for years to come.

So far so good. We’ll see how the rest of the year plays out but this little tidbit did my heart good on the end of a weekend that has had us more than a little stressed out. More on that in a few days.

-Underdaddy to the rescue.

Holiday Hot Cocoa

Jane’s school requires her to keep a journal and each day they give writing prompts if they have writer’s block. A little over a year ago the prompt was How to Make Hot Coco. The other night we found the journal and read parts of it out loud and everyone had a good laugh.

How to Make Hot Chocolate
By: Jane 11-18-14

the Frst step I
wood take to make

Coco is poor milke
2 step qoor chocolat
3 step poot marshmelo
4 step poot in microwave
A few notes: I am especially impressed that my child knows anyone who can fart marshmallows. Maybe the Elf on the Shelf? I’m not a fan of farting in the microwave and honestly, I am a little concerned about reheating things now. The only other thing that caught my attention is the fact that 98% of the words are misspelled but somehow she spelled microwave. This proves that you learn the things that are important in your life. Country-rich thanks to our microwave.

Just in case anyone actually wants Hot Coco, I have included the translated recipe below. I don’t want a lawsuit from someone who accidentally tries to fart a marshmallow into a microwave. That is some Judge Judy nonsense for sure.

The first step I would take to make coco is pour milk.
2nd Step Pour chocolate
3rd Step put in marshmallow
4th step put in microwave

If you are uncomfortable with farting and food preparation, this post is for you. You’re welcome.

-Underdaddy to the rescue (with the help of Jane)

Pet Poems

We sat down together a couple nights ago and tried to write funny poems about our pets. Well we didn’t try, we did. Just a few quick background notes before you dig in; Toby is our wallaby and he pesters everyone. The cat has to jump over the gate to the kitchen several times a day and she is getting fatter. Biscuit snores like a lumberjack’s saw.



Toby likes to hop

He hates brooms

And maybe mops

Lets send him to the moon.


I Heart Toby

How much do I love Toby?

My heart holds a special place.

Sometimes I want to hug him,

With a chair, in the face.


Fat Cat Splat

Majestic Cat, You’re oh-so-fat,

Remember to watch your weight,

Because dear cat, it’s hard to eat,

If you can’t jump over the gate.


Biscuit Snores

Man oh man does biscuit snore

It gets really bad at night,

Sometimes it seems her cheeks and teeth,

Are getting in a fight.


-Underdaddy to the rescue

Jane Was Attacked

It is the sound that every parent hates to hear; the actual real-life scream. A genuine wail of terror from your child.

A few weeks ago we were at Mamaw’s house and Jane was excited to show off her new sheep. The sheep, a lamb at the moment, was in the pen with the goats near the back of the farm. There is a gate at the edge of the backyard that leads to the goat pasture and the goats were hanging out in the woods beyond the chicken house. Jane asked if she could go and catch her lamb to show it off to us. Supermom and I agreed.

Toby had made the visit to Mamaw’s house and he was hopping around the back bedroom. Doing something stupid like chewing old wires or trying to jump in a toilet. I walked to the back of the house and just as I was picking him up I heard the screaming. A panicked scream from Jane. No words, just a shrill scream that didn’t stop. I could hear Supermom yelling, “What is it?!? What is wrong!”

The only response was more screaming. Everyone in the house rushed to the back door in a frantic curiosity. My heart was in my chest and I played out dire scenarios in my mind.

A Grizzly Bear was chasing her through the field. An anaconda was swallowing her whole. She was caught in a flash brush fire. A masked assailant had jumped out of the bushes and was stabbing her with an ice pick in slow motion.

Supermom shouted directions at her, “Slow down! Calm down! You are going to hurt yourself!”

These small clues helped my panic. She obviously wasn’t in a fatal scenario. Supermom is asking her to calm down. I heard metal clanging and a thump of something hitting the ground. Jane continued to scream. I made it to the backdoor and surveyed the scene.

Jane was laying on her side in the backyard about ten feet from the four foot tall gate to the goat pen. She was missing one boot and tears were streaked down her face. I couldn’t see a bear or a puma so I assumed predators were not the problem. I raced out the door and down the hill. Jane could barely talk through the heaving sobs. When she finally got enough composure to speak it was only a few words, “Mean… Guinea’s…”


Apparently a small grey flightless bird was the cause of all this commotion. It had recently hatched about fifteen eggs and was protecting the young by flapping wings at squawking at Jane. She thought it was trying to murder her and she ran faster than most Olympic sprinters. She is only eight years old and a good two inches shorter than the gate to the goat pen. That didn’t matter because she ran vertically up the gate and once she was at the top she did a swan dive towards the house, like the grass was an ocean and she was swimming to safety.

I thought I would wet myself from laughing. The fact that a three pound bird had scared a fifty pound kid out of her mind was hilarious. I know the terror had to be real but it was just SO DAMN FUNNY.

My father tells me that I reacted in a similar way to a German Shephard when I was about six. I run slower than most people walk so hearing I outran any dog seems like a tall tale. I wish I had been awesome enough to run out of my shoes and achieve short term flight. Jane is my hero.

If you have trouble showing concern because you laugh until you cant breathe, this post is for you. We probably won’t win parent of the year. Oh well. You’re welcome.

Underdaddy to the rescue.

Mom and Dad by Jane

Today I woke up to a pleasant surprise. There was a tray table fully set with a Little Debbie Oatmeal Cream Pie, a rock, a pencil, half an Easter egg, a bottle of water, and a beautiful story written for me. The three older girls collaborated on a morning surprise. For all the stories I tell that sound like literary birth control, this is part of the vast ocean of rewards that parents get from having children. Every now and then, they just want to love on you.

This is my excellent story.

Once upon a time there was a boy named David. He was really funny.

One day he saw a beautiful girl named Heather. She had black hair and brown eyes. David thought that she was really, really pretty so he talked to her. They went on they became boyfriend and girlfriend. Then they got married. They got a dog and a cat. The cat’s name is Madison. The dog’s name is Biscuit.

Then Heather had a kid named Jane. Then another named Prima. Then a kid named Don Threeto. Then another kid named Lady Bug. After that she got a wallaby. His name is Toby Dashnap Blackwood.

That is one story.

I wonder how long I should wait to let them read the real story?


-Underdaddy to the rescue.