ARRRRGH! I love that I can blog, I mean actually have a place to spew my random thoughts, and let's face it ladies, we have a lot. So anyway, every time I start to think about writing, I think about how lame it looks when I actually read it. I don't mean the words, I mean the layout. It's not ... me. I have been an avid reader of the Pioneer Woman for a while now. So of course, I was inspired/influenced by her style. Hers is a super cute style and it fits her, but mine doesn't fit me and I cannot figure out how to put other cool stuff in my margins. And another thing, the name of my blog is also lame. Come on? The Farm Flake? Jeez... We live on acreage and have four cows and a pig and an overgrown garden. But it's not a serious farm. And I am not a flake. I don't think. So I need a redo. I don't know if I can find something that is going to work for me that I can manage so I can add my stuff I am interested in in the margins. (That was the poorest sentence structure I have constructed since middle school.)

So if you are reading this, and I don't think anyone does, please know that I am going to change this all soon. I have this thing for my mind, but I also have it to document things in my child(ren)'s lives.

Before I forget, here are some things my child has said and done lately that I don't want to forget:

Sadee, my little darling angel lovey precious lovey love, told me last Tuesday night as she was sitting on the potty, "I don't know what in the fuckin' hell is wrong with my body." (sorry PaPa Dee)

I asked her to repeat herself, as I was half asleep leaning against the door frame. She said it again.

I said, "What?". She said it again.

I said, "What?"

I was in a dream like state.

"This cannot be what she is saying! She doesn't know what she is saying! I know I am hearing the 'hell' but I am not sure about the 'fuckin'"

I thought about telling her, "Sadee, we don't say 'fuck'"

But I couldn't do it. I couldn't say that word to my precious little puffy-headed sweetie. So instead I said, "Sadee, we don't say hell. That's not a nice word for little girls to say."

BTW, she's still sitting on the potty. Apparently, there WAS something in the fuckin' hell wrong with her body. But she was working on relieving it.

So then she asks me, "Mommy, is hell a bad word?"

I say, "yes."

I can see the wheels turning...

She says, "Mommy, what's hell?"

Wow. I know she is too young to truly grasp the concept of good and evil, angels and demons, God (well sorta) and satan... so I just said, "Well, hell is just a bad place to be. A place no one wants to go to. Kinda like New Mexico."

**Disclaimer** to my lovely family members in Artesia and Roswell, the New Mexico of which I speak is the New Mexico we had to drive through to get from Arizona to Texas and back. That was the most depressing stretch of highway to me. So sorry if this offends you. I am sure there are some lovely parts of the Land of Enchantment. I just haven't seen 'em.

So yeah. That dominated my thoughts and conversations all last week. I told Beebs who wondered aloud, "Where did she hear THAT from!?!?!" Do we even need to try to guess? Yeah. We all know who she heard it from. I may try to answer that one in a future post.

But next time I will tell you the story of my brilliant, blonde daughter and her debunking the puppet myths on Jack's Big Music Show. Remind me and I will.

Baby feeling great. We have a sonogram tomorrow and we COULD find out the sex, but I am still in the I-don't-want-to-find-out phase. I just imagine it would be so exciting to see video footage of Zach telling everyone in the waiting room, "It's a BOY/GIRL!"