And Now For Something Completely Different

Andy is now crawling like a pro.

He knows where all of our electrical outlets are, and the stairs, and which cabinets hold the cleaning products, medicines, and the hot poisonous knives.

He gets into the trash more than the dog.

If I leave anything on the floor for more than a moment, he is there putting it into his mouth. Soda, baby powder, Windex, you name it.

But mostly, he is just trying to keep up with me. He clings to my legs, trying to pull himself up. He never quite makes it, but it keeps me from moving. I've taken to putting him as far away from me as I can, then running back to whatever I was doing and doing as much as I can before he finds me and starts to climb me. Then I pick him up and put him across the room again.

The things is, it's like taking care of a completely different kid.

Pack Rat

Every once and awhile I realize that the boys are not picking up their toys because there is no longer any place for the toys to GO. The toy chest is so full it hardly closes and toys get piled on top and in heaps on the floor... so then I go through the chest and do crazy things, such as putting parts of games back in their boxes, and weeding out the broken toys and games.

When I start doing this, Nicholas comes and stands over me. He watches me very carefully, and whenever I pick up anything that looks like it might get thrown out he begins exclaiming how he has been LOOKING for that! Look! See this broken toy phone? I MISSED this phone! And this deck of flashcards that has been scribbled on and torn up so that it only has fifteen of the alphabet letters? Finally! As I throw things into the trash can, Nathan picks them out, and when I turn around he's got them all either on a pile on the floor, or stuffed into one of their small knapsacks.

Steve is also a pack rat. A rather large closet in the basement is his appointed "computer stuff" closet, but recently it has started spilling out, it's contents leaking out into the rest of the basement. So I went through it, trying to get some order in there. And this is a difficult task, for someone like me, who can pick up a computer part and have absolutely NO IDEA what it does. I'm trying to sort these objects, but I have no idea if I'm doing it right. It's like trying to get a library in order if you don't read. You end up sorting the books by size or by color.

I also found out we have miles and miles of cables. I have no idea what these cables go to, or why we have so many of them. I do know that I was looking for one in particular this afternoon and I can't find THAT one. We also have lots of green computer chips and disk drives. I am not sure why we are hoarding them. And lots of huge square things with plugs, and also many small fans with wires coming out of them.

In the face of such horrific pack ratism I am making a concentrated effort to lighten my own load and unpack-rat myself. I went through my puzzles today - I must have fifty and I haven't done one in years because of small fingers and babies who like to eat the pieces, chew them, and spit them out in wads of soggy cardboard. I kept the ones I haven't done yet, and a few of my favorites, but the rest are going to the library when they start accepting donations again. Gosh, I hope there are no pieces missing.

Arrgh, Charlie Brown!

I had one of those days, like the time Charlie Brown was trying to get through the door with a baguette and the ends kept getting chopped off, and then he kept buying new ones and doing it AGAIN. And he didn't realize he could just pick up the ends and still eat the bread, and kept making the same mistake again and again...

I just had these issues calling the exterminators - for the wasps - because getting them to get rid of them is the same as sending both kids to gymnastics for three months. And then I drove to Target with the kids only to get there and realize my wallet was at home on the counter next to the phone, where I had given the exterminators my credit card number. So I had to drive back and get it, and then drive out to Target AGAIN, because I had promised the boys we were getting lunch boxes for school, with thermoses, so they could have soup for lunch, and mac and cheese. And they looked at me with those wide, wide eyes...

And now they have a couple of nifty lunch boxes, and a couple of thermoses that were sold separately and were twice as expensive as the lunch boxes, and I forgot the wax strips for my legs and also the AAA batteries.

I'm Baaa - aaaack!

Yesterday afternoon my cell phone rang, and my first thought was "who the *bleep* is calling my cellphone?" Because although many people today rely on their cell phones over their mainline phones, this requires A SIGNAL, and that is something we do not get here in our house. Unless it's on the back porch, standing on a chair.

Anyway, I answered my cell phone and it was Steve. And Steve told me he had been trying to call but couldn't get through. The number was not working.

And this is how we found out that the phone line to our house was spanning our front lawn instead of hiding in the trees.

Of course the internet and the phone go through the same cable. So we were without phone OR internet access for over 24 hours. I know you all tried to call and couldn't get through. Oh, the panic it must have caused. But I'm back now.

The Supermarket

Did I already do a post about grocery shopping without the boys? Did I already mention that I can get there and back in just a little over an hour? And I don't have to visit the bathrooms? And I remember to get more of what's on my list? And I somehow spend a lot less money?

It's a little insane. I guess when the boys are with me I buy more "rewards" for myself. And for them. Because when they start screaming I NEED the pint of guacamole and the tub of rice pudding.

But now I don't have any snacks for watching TV.

Sneaky Sneaky

We took a secret trip to NY.

Actually, it wasn't that much of a secret. It was a last minute trip though, so I didn't get in touch with all the people I was supposed to get in touch with, and only my family knew we were coming. This is why I have had one line posts for the past couple of days.

The drive up was terrible. 30 miles from home an accident turned the highway into a parking lot that we sat in for two hours. It rained heavily until Steve got behind the wheel.

The drive back up was much better, but I think I'm going to have to start taking photographs of us at all the rest stops we visit along the way because we end up stopping SO MANY TIMES. I used to be able to make it up without stopping once, as long as I didn't drink too much soda and started with a full tank of gas. But now, I kid you not, we can't go fifteen minutes without a kid claiming to need to pee. Even though we JUST WENT. I know because I just got settled and turned my audio book back on.

We stopped for lunch at a crowded fast food place. Steve got the food. When he got to the table I noticed that he had one chocolate milk and one regular. Steve confirmed what I suspected - that they only had one chocolate milk left. ONLY ONE! And obviously we have two chocolate milk drinkers.

So I simply didn't say anything about it. I opened the chocolate milk for Nick, and then opened the regular milk for Nathan, who immediately looked at me and asked "Is this chocolate milk?" And without a moment's hesitation I said "Yes! It's just a different kind." That's right. I LIED TO MY CHILD. And you know what? IT WORKED!

Sneaky me.

Tick Tock

There just isn't enough time in the day for me to do all the things I need to do.

Clean Up

It's messy at our house. But on those days when I clean I find it absolutely depressing at how quickly the place gets messy. Food on the floor, spilled milk, various bodily fluids from boys and pets... I just wonder why I bother.

No TV

Getting the boys to pick up their toys is... close to impossible. I find myself standing in the middle of the room barking orders, telling each boys what to pick up, where to put it, again and again because they move so slowly and get distracted so easily. It really is so much easier to clean up myself.

But I know it's important to get them to learn how to do it themselves. So I try any number of things to motivate them to get the job done. This week, if the toys are still on the floor when we come down that morning, there is no TV that day.

There are a number of reasons I don't think this is the best solution, and also a number of reasons I don't feel bad about doing it. This is the second day in a row I have had to suffer. Because the boys are a little sad when there is no TV. But they get over it. They play. They ask me things. They fight. They bump each other. They cry and they need me. And the things I do during their TV time - things like getting dressed, making dinner, folding laundry - all these things I now need to do while dealing with live, rambunctious little beings. Instead of the comatose, zombified little boys that TV turns them into.

When they say TV is a TOOL, they mean that it helps you get stuff done around the house.

It's official

Last night, at about 2am, I responded to a crying Andrew and found him sitting up in his crib. He used to sit on his own as long as someone placed him in a sitting position. But now he sits up on his own. When he is half asleep.

He can also move fast enough on his belly so that... well, so that a person can tell he's moving. Unless he is thinking about getting somewhere, in which case he keeps trying to stand by pushing himself up on his toes, planting his face to the ground, and then just manages to inch backwards until he is in a corner or under a large furniture item.

Syrup

Nicholas has "adopted" another stuffed animal. He usually goes through phases where he loves one thing or anther intently. And this time he picked the Care Bear we've had for ages. He started carrying it around. It is his new baby. It is a "she." And he has named her 'Syrup."

What It's Really Like

Ahhh... brotherly love.

Cribster

How old should a child be before moving from a crib to a big bed? I don't really know because I moved both Nick and Nate as soon as I could to make room for a new baby.

Moving the crib from the boys' room to the baby's room was a pain. I had to take it apart to get through the doors. But in putting it back together I realized that when Steve had originally put the crib together back when I was pregnant with Nick, he had put the mattress in the lowest position. This would explain why I had to bend waaaaaayyyy over to put sleeping infants to bed without waking them. I wondered how other people had such high mattresses in their cribs and
how I managed to get the strange crib.

But then when I put the crib back together for Andrew I put the mattress up high. So when I put him back to bed I just had to PLACE him there. No bending over, no worries abotu waking him... SO GREAT!

But NOW Andy is starting to roll around and try to sit up and pull himself up on things and the mattress is suddenly WAY too high. So Steve and I went to lower it... well, Steve was lowering it and I helped.

And let me say... they made it WAY too difficult to change the crib height. I mean, the rail moves up and down, and that's easy, but adjusting the actual mattress height practically requires complete disassembly of the crib, and a very particular tool.

But anyway, it's down now, and when I look at Andy asleep in his little bed he looks so low to the ground I could laugh. It almost seems wrong.

Happy Happy

Yesterday we got a message saying Steve's uncle was having a cookout. And I started dreading it right away. But I was so so wring. Because today we went and we had the best time. It was really great. I think I was worried about the boys, but they behaved wonderfully. I can't think of the last time we had such fun. In a group, I mean.

A Thought

We think we've all come so far... but really, a grown up is just an adult teenager. During storytime at the library I listened to a group of mothers talk about a mother that wasn't there, and about how her kids are sick all the time, and she takes them out anyway, and about how awful that is... and I thought - HEY! They don't know what's going on there! I mean, I've been known to take Nick out with an awful sounding cold because if I waited for everyone to be 100% we'd never leave the house.

We've also found ourselves in a couple of places with sprinklers in the past few days, and we did not have bathing suits. My boys hardly waited for a yes or no before stripping off shoes and shirts and running into the water. And I let them. And I can feel the looks of other parents when someone else shouts " don't get wet!" or "You're wet enough!" I also know that I get looks whenever I put Andy down anywhere - the stroller is huge and the car seat too heavy these days, so I just pick him up. But sometimes I need to tie a shoe or pick up another child, so Andy goes down on the ground. And I can hear the gasps as his little legs hit the woodchips, or the grass, or the rug, or the sand.

My point is, parents are SO uptight about their kids in ways that just aren't that important to me. Do I want Andy eating woodchips? Of course not. But if he happens to put one in his mouth during the five seconds he's down there, he is probably not going to turn green and melt into a puddle of goo. And will my kids get cold on the way home? Probably. And it's 95 out, so they will probably be more comfortable than me. And then, when we get home, we'll change. And they may not look cool, but he, they are preschoolers and they don't know that. You might have packed the princess towel and the princess bathing suit with the pink hair ribbons, and you might have the sand 'n surf shoes with the water hat and the swim shirt... but hey, my kids are wetter than yours because they aren't afraid of getting wet and dirty.

On Time

Three mornings a week we head off to the pool so that one of the boys can take a swim class. This morning was Nicholas's turn. Afterwards we were heading over to the library for a special outdoor "walkabout" as part of the summer reading program.

So I was packing a change of clothes, towel, water, bottle for baby, sunscreen, etc.

And at 8:30 am I started trying to get the boys out of the house. And it took twenty minutes. The very last thing I did was have Nicholas use the bathroom, because every class he at least once has to get out of the pool and go. And as his class is only 30 minutes long, and as it takes at least fifteen minutes to get Nate to stop playing, to lug the baby and heard both boys inside the building, etc. and he ends up missing half the class. And as Nate and Andy were already in the car and we were running late, I thought I would save us a few minutes.

But it didn't save us any time at all, because as soon as we got there Nick said he had to pee ANYWAY. And I hearded us in where we waited behind this woman and her son for the rest room, and then they gave up and went upstairs but I couldn;t see myself dragging the boys up there... and finally I knocked on the door and NO ONE WAS IN THERE! Lights on, door shut, completely empty. I was a raving lunatic.

To top it all off, Nick then stood at the toilet and said he didn't have to pee after all.

So then we were ten minutes late for class.

I hate being late.

I don't get around like you get around

Andy is very close to crawling. This was taken a little over a week ago, and he now does baby push ups, pushing his whole body up and trying to stand on his legs. I haven't actually seen him crawl, but he can get clear across the room. And, as you can see, into anything.

never again

I know, I know, it's Tuesday evening, so this post must be about the grocery store!

But wait, you haven't heard this one yet.

Today's trip was the worst ever. How is that possible? After the time Nate hit Nick over the head with soup? After that one time all three kids left crying? After the time forgot my list and forgot to buy milk?

Well, yes. Today was worse.

It took us 20 minutes at the deli counter to get a pound of sliced ham.

Nick spilled the bottle of water I had given him all over the floor.

Nate threw up.

We all had to turn around and use the restroom.

Nicholas walked right into one of those stupid freestanding displays they put in the middle of the aisles.

I then walked my cart directly into one of the stupid freestanding displays, knocking it over and sending forty glass jars of salsa crashing to the floor where they exploded in a mess of broken glass and jalapenos.

Nathan spilled HIS bottle of water on the floor.

I must have looked a mess because one of the checkout guys asked me how I was holding up and I couldn't answer him because I knew if I did I would start crying.

So the NEW PLAN is that I NEVER GO SHOPPING AGAIN. At least until school starts in September. Please send fruit baskets and care packages or my boys will starve.

Truth Stings

There are bees in our backyard.

When I say bees, I don't mean honey bees, or bumble bees, or any other bee that you might think of as GOOD in any way (because bees make honey and are dying off, just in case you didn't know.) No, when I say "Bees" I mean insects that sting, such as wasps, or hornets. They are all bees to me.

When we go outside I can see them. dozens of them fly back and forth and around about a foot above the sand that the swing set is on. The swing set. Of course these things are near the area designated for our small children to play.

I looked online to try and find a solution to my problem, and I came up with a "bee trap," which is a soda bottle cut in half, the top inserted upside down into the bottom, with a little soda or juice in the bottom. The insects are supposed to fly in after the sweet stuff and then get confused and not be able to get out until they drown in the soda. I made two and left them out a couple of days. Not one bee was captured.

My problem is that all of the sites being exactly the same way: "First, identify what type of wasp it is." And many of the sites then provide wonderful photographs to help you. The trouble is that the wasps in the photographs are not FLYING. The ones in my yard are. And there are many of them and they fly quickly, and when one lands on the sand it only stays there for a few moments before flying off again, and I can't get close enough to determine the exact shade of yellow or the size of the waist. I mean, these things STING!

The second thing the websites all say is "Spray the insecticide at the entrance to the nest." Which would be great. If I knew where the stupid nest was. Which I don't. The sites recommend going out at dusk and following a few bees, as they usually return home around then. Well, quite honestly, I usually forget. And when I do go out the bees are already in bed, sleeping. So the trouble is, I have no place to spray the insecticide. I HAVE been watching, but the wasps seem to dig tiny little holes into the sand. Many, many little holes. I tried spraying the insecticide into the many holes, and then onto the ground, but it didn't work. The bees are still there.

I just don't know what to do next. And even though the flying wasp bees have not yet stung anyone (this year) I do not like the idea that they are flying around. And I have a secret fear that they are actually yellow jackets, and that there is a huge, gigantic, car sized next RIGHT UNDER THE GROUND!

Let's Facebook The Facts

A couple of weeks ago I joined Facebook.

In case you don't know what Facebook is (Mom), it's an online community. This means that, once you join up, you get your own page. Your page has all the information you care to plug in - your name, your birthday, your religion, if you're single, married, dating, etc. You can add friends to your personal page. Usually this is done by searching for an actual friend or two, and then adding them to your list.

But something funny happens.

Say I add Larissa, who I know from High School, and Betsy, who I know from College, and Winston, my brother. I can go to their pages and read their stuff and look at their "Friends." I notice Betsy has a few people on there I used to know, and maybe we aren't that close anymore, but HEY! We used to be friends, right? And then a few of Larissa's "friends"send me requests to be "friends"... and yeah, I remember them. I wouldn't have ever said we were friends back then, exactly. I wouldn't have spoken to them if we passed in the halls. But I would definitely speak to them NOW if I saw them on the street. So, sure, I can be "friends" with them. And then I notice Winston is "friends" with this guy I went to school with until the fifth grade, so I go ahead and send HIM a friend request, and before you know it I get a friend request from someone who claims went to my grammar school AND my music school, and he remembers me, and he happens to be "friends" with my sister AND this other girl I am now "friends" with from both places, but I cannot for the life of me remember him. But what the heck - he's posted a school picture. He must be legit! So now you have a page with all these different people you used to know in one place, like a collection of your life. It's kind of like getting married, only the people here are not just the people you would invite to your wedding. They are the people you didn't know well enough. It's EVERYONE FROM YOUR LIFE.

My point is, people end up with hundreds of "friends" on these things, and I really begin to wonder what the purpose of these things are beyond collecting "friends."

Sure, there are other applications. I can take quizzes and post the results. (What Greek God are YOU?) I joined a group that revolves around reading and book reviews, and the best thing about it is that I can post the books I'm reading right on my page. I'm guessing there might be a similar group about movies. I also joined groups for my High School and my College, and that is great because I can then browse the membership for people I used to know and then invite them to be my "friends."

By far the best part of Facebook so far, for me, is Scramble. Scramble is a GAME you can play via facebook, and you can play alone or with other people. And what it is is BOGGLE. You get a square with some letters and you try to make as many words as you can out of the letters you are given, and you have three minutes, and you can't pause even if Nathan is tugging at your arm needing to use the bathroom or the baby falls off the bed. And when you do particularly well the game sends a MESSAGE to your "Friends" telling them that you have BEAT YOUR PERSONAL BEST, and now you are LEVEL THREE which is NOT GREAT, and now all those people you don't really know but kind of remember you, they probably think you are a moron because they do not KNOW about the PEEING URGENCY and the FALLING OFF THE BED and how you can NOT get THREE MINUTES OF PEACE, so it's... you know, extra challenging...

Truly, I'm addicted to Facebook, and I can sense the danger of embarrassing myself with messages to people I used to know and posting inappropriate items to my page by mistake. But I also think it's like many other online activities. I will be addicted. I will let myself be addicted. And one day - a few weeks from now - I'll get tired of it, and then four months will go by before I log in again.

Two By Nate

Nathan is now speaking a lot. He is, actually, speaking to himself at this very moment. And most of the time he can be understood, if not by the general population, by those of us who live here.

He is also two. I thought he had gone through this stage early, as though the phase went with size 2T PJ's. You know the stage. The one where each time he doesn't get his way he melts down. He no longer wants to do things himself, he wants ME to do it. Not Steve, ME. And whatever you do for him, there's always something a little bit wrong with it.

Tonight we had burgers for dinner. And I asked him if he wanted pickles ON the burger, or on the side. He said the side. I gave him the burger. "No!" he said. "Put it underneath!" It took a few moments to figure it out, moments where Nate emphatically repeated "Underneath!" Then I put the pickles on the burger.

Nate looked at it. "Oh, No!" He said. "Look what you did to my burger!"

I looked at it. It looked like a burger. "What?" I asked. "What did I do?"

Nate pointed at the plate in front of him. "You put salt and pepper on it!"

OH NO! SALT AND PEPPER! DEMON SPICES! And also NO I DID NOT! I swear, I used ready made burger patties and added nothing. But the thought of salt and pepper being visually apparent on the burger bun... well, I laughed out loud.


Also, earlier today I was trying to get Nathan to put on his pants. Instead, he slung them over his arm and held it out on front of him, bent. The expression on his face was serious and thoughtful. He looked to me like a short and serious waiter. But then he looked at me and whispered "I'm a pirate."

Because apparently pirates walk around with their pants slung over their arms?

Like Dreamers Do

I really want my kids to do well in school.

I mean, my kids are smart. They SHOULD do well in school. Because when you are a kid, that's what being smart IS. You get good grades, and you are smart, and if you don't... well, you aren't.

Nicholas is a smart kid. He can carry on conversations like few other kids his age. He has a vivid imagination. He can figure out computer games that I'm sure he won't be able to work...

But I'm already worried about Nick and school.

Because Nick is a dreamer.

I remember being in school and having a hard time. I would TRY to pay attention, but before I knew it my mind would be thinking of other things. I wasn't misbehaving, so the teachers wouldn't notice. And this is how a lot of kids get lost.

Now, I know Nick is four, but I've watched him in his swimming and gym classes - GYM classes, classes where he is moving around and it should be a bit easier to... not drift away in your head - and he'll be with it one minute and the next thing you know his class is on the other end of the pool and he's alone, spinning in circles. They moved him to a smaller group, the one with the smaller kids, so that he would have more personal attention and not wander off. He's doing a great job and now he's learning, but... you know. And yes, he's young, but SO ARE THE OTHER KIDS!

I can see it in a gym class, but what about in a math class? Poor grades will be the first sign that something is wrong, and then what do you do?

The thing is, I can't think of anything to DO to help the situation. And I guess I'm just worried. I don't want him to get lost or be made fun of. I just... I want him to have confidence and to know he can learn.

Swimmy Swimmy

I signed the boys up for swimming lessons this summer.

There is this lake near us, and our town has a little beach on it, and every year they give swim lessons, and every year we've watched the kids flock in the water clutching floaties and I've thought about how I need to get my kids to learn to swim. My boys are not taking swim lessons at this beach.

See, Nick was fearless in the water at the age of two. But all last summer he never went in deeper than his knees. So I knew he would need something different to learn in. Such as a POOL.

So now, three days a week, I'm at the gymnastics school, in their backyard where they have a pool and a couple of teachers. Nick swims Tuesdays and Thursdays, and Nathan has lessons on Wednesdays. Nick gets to go in by himself. I have to go in with Nathan. This means I need Lillian to watch Nick and Andy because, although I could convince Nick to sit quietly on the pool bench, Andrew might put up a fuss.

The boys are both doing really well. They are wearing special swim belts, but it's really just to give them confidence. Which, by the way, neither of them have. I have seem them both "swimming" without an adult, and they both get really panicked, but they both cross the pool that way. It's amazing. I wish they weren't so scared to do it.

I only signed them up for four weeks, mostly because I wasn't sure how the classes would be. I don't think they'll be experts by the end of the month, but I'm thinking they will, if nothing else, be a lot more familiar with the water. And maybe I can work with them on my own, if Andrew will let me.

I hate grocery shopping

Seriously, grocery shopping is my least favorite 90 minutes of the week.

And it's not so much the kids. Sure, the kids help put the pressure on, because they are THERE, and every once and awhile one of them will let out a SCREAM OF DEATH and the whole store stops and stares at me, glaring at me with their eyes, sending me telepathic hate messages because I have obviously done something wrong to bring such awful children into the world, let alone a place where they sell FRUIT SNACKS and GUM!

No, it's the grocery stores themselves that drive me nuts. Or perhaps the companies that MAKE THE FOOD! Whatever it is, someone follows me around, notes the products I purchase the most, then NEVER STOCKS THEM AGAIN. Seriously. I fall in love with a couple of bagged salads and a month ago they stopped stocking them. The soda I love came out in a Caffeine Free version. I loved it. They stopped stocking it. Bagged potatoes? Gone. I swear I have never been able to buy the same brand of pickles twice. Dill pickle chips. That's all I need. But instead they seem to stock more and more Bread and Butter pickles. WHO (besides my mom) EATS THOSE AWFUL THINGS?

Whenever I can't find what I am looking for in the store it takes time. Time to look for it, to make sure it's really not there - sometimes the crazy store people get bored and move things around and laugh at the shoppers trying to find that brand of bread they got the last time. If it's not really there then I have to figure out what the best deal is. This one's cheapest, but THIS is fat free, and THIS one is organic and has the best packaging. And THIS one is grow locally, but also is kind of expensive... And by NOW Nathan has pulled three boxes of Mac and cheese off the shelf and is screaming because Nicholas is on HIS SIDE of the car.

Anyway, I just wanted to share my frustration. Honestly, that trip ruins the rest of my day.

Responses

OK, first off, I want to make it perfectly clear that Linda is NOT STUPID! The Stupid was referring to me. The photo of Linda and Andrew eating the caterpillar pillow was just a coincidental. Here is another photo of Linda with ALL the boys. I have made an attempt to correct the red-eye.

As for my foot, it DID bleed a little, but then stopped. I took an advil before bed Saturday. I soaked it in hot water a couple of times and this morning it was 98% better. I even ran on it today and I can no longer feel it. Unless I poke at it. Then it hurts.

Also, I KNOW it is not smart to plant grass in July, but we really need something growing there to hold the dirt in place. Every time it rains more and more of it ends up in our driveway. And it has actually rained 17 out of the last 21 days. The problem is, each time it rains the grass seed ends up in our driveway, too.

Finally, I do not actually have any poisonous hot knives. Our knives are usually one or the other. But leave it to my kids to find the worst thing around. Andrew is starting to inch his way to objects he wants. The first thing he grabbed was a wire, which he immediately put in his mouth.

To end, I would like to simply say that the 4th of July was not meant for dogs. Gunther climbed right in bed with me on several occasions over the past few days, as people use up the last of their fireworks.

Stupid Stupid Stupid

After a week with no hint of grass growing on the giant dirt patch that is our lawn, I went out and bought a second huge bad of grass seed. THIS time, I thought, I would do things a little differently. First off, I would turn over the soil so that the seed would have something to grab onto and grow into.

So I took one of those hand held rakes... the tiny hand sized pitchforks... and I started poking holes into the earth. And I sprinkled the grass seed into the little holes I made. But the thing is... that rake is small, and the lawn is HUGE. And I guess I started going faster and faster and less and less careful because I STABBED MYSELF IN THE FOOT WITH IT!

Not really my foot. My toe. The side of my toe. And one of the rake tines went into the side of my toe and INTO it, and just as I realized what I had done I heard - or felt - a sick crunch. And, besides the pain, the strongest thing I felt was I AM SO SO STUPID! I mean, I couldn't have done this if I had tried. And my kids, who were being so good, were treated to me shouting out words they have only heard me use in heavy traffic.

There is now a small, tiny cut on the inside of my toe. It hardly bled. There was no need for stitches or anything. It's the smallest tear. And it's only slightly pink and a little bit swollen. But it HURTS! I feel like the biggest wimp. I'm limping all over the place and I STILL FEEL STUPID!

Ugh! Stupid lawn!

Crazy Hail Storm Footage

From a couple of weeks ago.

The Origin Of Things

Today was rainy until late afternoon, and we were all going a little stir crazy, so I put together an Alphabet Scavenger Hunt for the boys. I wrote each letter on a sheet of paper and then taped it to an object starting with that letter, writing the word underneath. The idea was to familiarize the boys with individual letters, and to get them to start thinking about the sounds each letter makes. Some of the letters are easier to remember than others.

It's harder than you think to come up with a physical object you own for each letter. I had trouble with a couple of them, so come of my choices were... original.

When it came to the letter "I" Nick found the letter on the freezer. "Great!" we said. "Now what is it that starts with 'I?'"

"Freezer!" Nick said confidently.

"Um... no, try again," we said, and I pointed to the ice dispenser, which is on the freezer. "What does that make?"

Nick raised him eyebrows. "Um, Pizza?"

The funny thing is, we were drawn to this particular model of fridge because of the huge sign saying it could fit EIGHT FROZEN PIZZAS inside!

Happy Fourth of JULY

When we were kids it was all about picnics on the beach and fireworks. But now that I'm an adult it's all about cooking on the grill and trying to have a couple of drinks and trying to keep the kids from stabbing themselves in the eyes with hot poisonous knives.

Happy Day to everyone.

news flash

I would like to take it easy today, because I don't have much to say.

But I DID feel like I had to mention the new playground we found today. In our own town. I'd never seen it before. But it looks a lot like the really cool playground in Tennessee. The only catch is that it's down a very bumpy and uneven unpaved road behind a cemetery. I wonder why I've never found it until now.

I Told

As I have mentioned before, once the kids are in bed I have FREE TIME. This means I have time which I have not allocated to anything else, although I usually have to use some of it to finish up a few things, such as putting away laundry, getting those last dishes in the dishwasher, etc. But once this happens, the night is MINE!

Or at least that's how it's supposed to work. What REALLY happens is that Nathan keeps getting out of bed and playing with his toys, and I keep having to go back in and put him back in bed. Sometimes I start watching a movie and I can hear him over the Monitor, jabbering, playing, and sometimes trying to wake up the baby. Which is when I shoot up and rush to get him back in bed because THAT IS NOT FUN!

When either Steve or I confront him in one of these out of bed moments we invariably start with "Why are you you out of bed?" And he always always ALWAYS replies "I'm cold!"

Actually, he said "I Told!" But as his parents, both Steve and I speak fluent Nathan, and we know what he is saying. "I'm Cold."

Except I think he might actually MEAN something else. Because there is no way on Earth that he can possibly be cold. Unless he has a fever. For the past three months. I mean, it's 80 degrees and I can feel the oilyness of the skin on my face. I can feel the weight of my hair on my neck. It's HOT!

But if I correct Nathan (you mean you're HOT) he corrects me back. (I'm Cold.)

Anyway, one day he'll get the hang of going to bed, I hope. And at least he will stay IN the bed. I don't mind his being awake so much, as long as he's in a place where he can, eventually, get tired and nod off.

Choices

At the end of the day, when the kids go to sleep, I have free time.

I am never sure what to do with this free time. I could do some quilting. I could work on some of my scrapbooks. I could paint the kitchen. I usually opt for watching TV because then I don't have to move, but even this required choices. Actual TV? A film from Netflix? The entire first season of LOST? There is just SO MUCH.

And it reminds me of the boys when we go to a park or to a play place. Because they want to do EVERYTHING and they want to do it all RIGHT NOW. And they end up running around from one thing to another with frantic looks on their faces. MUST DO THIS! NOW THIS! NOW THIS!

After all that... well, there's a lot to say for being so tired at the end of the day you fall right into bed.

Encyclopedia Brown and the case of the Blue Monk

OK, the title of this post is misleading, because there is no actual CASE to solve... although If I WERE cleaver enough to come up with a few I would be very pleased with myself.

No, it's just that today we went shopping for ovens - just to get an idea of what was out there. And the major chain store we visited had exactly ONE OVEN that matched our specifications (double oven, 27 inches.) But while we were there I purchased a bag of grass seed because our lawn has been attacked by grubs and these huge bare spots are all over, and over the past few days, during the heavy rain, a great deal of dirt ran down the slope and collected in our driveway because nothing was growing to hold it down, so something had to be done.

So I got this grass seed and this afternoon, in the heat of the day, I walked up and down the slope in front of our house sprinkling this seed. Now, I've been reading this book that starts off in a monastery in the 4th century, and I'm a little into it. So the whole time I'm putting my hand in the bag and sprinkling grass seed all over the dirt I'm imagining I'm a Monk at work, sewing seed in the fields out of my love for God or Food or something, a Monk who, apparently, has three small children running around. And people passing by the house were looking at me strangely and I KNEW I wasn't doing this grass planting thing properly - I didn't prepare the soil and I was just THROWING the stuff down... but they were kind of rude about it, the way they were looking... Did they know what I was thinking?

At the end of my sprinkling I was just coming out of my daydream when I looked down and saw that my hands were both blue up to my elbows... apparently this grass seed has dye in it. And my face, which had been sweating and that I had been rubbing... it was also streaked with a bright blue. My feet were blue because I was wearing flip flops. No wonder passers by were giving me odd looks.


Anyway, I went inside and washed up. Then I checked the weather for the next couple of days, to see how favorable grass growing conditions were going to me. And just in case you didn't know, this is something you should do BEFORE spreading seed. Because the forecast for TODAY said "THUNDERSTORMS AND HEAVY SHOWERS." And five minutes later buckets of water were pouring from the sky. And thirty minutes later the sun was shining again, but all the grass seed had run off, along with the loose layer of soil on top, into my driveway.

So the Mystery question is either: How long before my driveway has more grass than my lawn? Or: How much will it cost to redo our entire kitchen so we can get whatever oven we want?

Holy Fruit Crusader!

Batman Fruit Snacks should not exist.

It's not just that I don't like the idea of fruit snacks. I like them. They are yummy. Even though they are essentially trying to make you think there is actual FRUIT in the sugary gummy substance.

Diego is allowed to have fruit snacks. Cinderella. Scooby Doo. The Backyardigans. But The Caped Crusader? Batman? I don't know what he eats, but I'm pretty sure he would scoff at the fruit snacks. Especially the new Batman. Maybe the Adam West Batman would eat them once in a while.

oweKAY!

So... I guess that last post was a winner.

Either no one read my post, or no one wanted to waste 4 minutes of their time... OR people hated the video and are trying to spare my feelings.

whatever the reason, I got no comments at all. This will not discourage me. I shall keep peppering you all with videos. Next time, it will be a video of my cats.

My Video

Here's my first attempt at a "full length feature" on the web. It is four minutes long. I put clips from our trip to Tennessee - mostly from the park we went to - to music. Let me know what you think.

I already know that my voice is annoying, that I shake the camera too much... and... let me know what else.

Food For Thought

I hate it when anyone asks me "What's for dinner?" My mother used to ask us what we'd like for dinner and it would drive me crazy. Just make something! I would think. Anything! Why are you asking ME? These days I actually make up the week's menu before I go to the supermarket, but I always find myself sitting there, sifting through the depths of my brain, trying to come up with seven meals for the week. That I can cook. And that my family will eat. Try doing this. It's harder than it looks.

Steve has recently expressed the opinion that we are eating too much hamburger (ie. stop making hamburger helper every third night) so this week I decided to try something new and make lamb chops. This was really courageous of me because, not only have I never cooked lamb, I do not eat it. But it was a moot point as I discovered that A - lamb chops are really tiny B - lamb chops are kind of expensive and C - there were only three lamb chops left in the meat cooler at the store. So instead I got a pork roast. WELL, IT WASN'T HAMBURGER!

The pork roast was good! Once it cooked. But whoever wrote the cooking instructions on the wrapper should be shot. They either lied about the cooking time (25 - 30 min/ lb.) or about the temperature (325) or maybe they got the weight wrong. Because what should have taken 90 minutes to cook ended up taking almost three hours. With only adults this is an excuse to drink more wine and relax more. With small children it is a disaster.

Anyhow, Andrew was the only one who got fed and to bed on time. I have had trouble feeding him lately. I plans to gradually move him over to formula have been thwarted by his decision to now never take a bottle AT ALL! And he now refuses most baby food, simply smiling with lips together at my attempts to make him open his mouth before the mush falls completely off the spoon... which isn't really a spoon, but more like a rubber tipped stick, as nothing actually stays IN there.

But today Andrew's first tooth came in. THAT'S something, huh?

A Little Something

I am not blind, nor am I stupid. But I like to believe that, most of the time, people who are arrested are arrested because they have done something wrong. I like to think that people who are convicted of a crime are guilty. I like to think that the conviction will be just. Call me optimistic, faithful, loyal, naive, whatever. It's what I like to believe. It isn't, however, what I ACTUALLY believe. It isn't true.

There are places in this world where people are persecuted for no reason. Where they are arrested with false charges. Where they are held with no conviction, and where they are treated inhumanely. This country I live in is no exception. But I am not posting about my country. I'm posting about this one man.

This man is in Prison in Belarus, and I've met him. It was a long time ago, when I was a kid, but still, he is family of people I once considered myself very close to. I am posting a link to a website. I think the site itself is a bit thrown together, and perhaps a bit one sided and emotional. My point is, I can't claim to know the motivations of people or of governments. But I don't think it's right to deprive a person of legal counsel or of medication, let alone to mistreat them physically. This website sheds a little light on the situation, and offers information on what can be done. I think it also might be monitored by family members.

I guess I am simply writing this to raise a little awareness around this one guy's case. Because when I heard about it I wanted nothing more than to be able to DO SOMETHING. And really, what more can I do?

Here is a cut and paste of a document my brother sent me:

UANetwork Office AIUSA 600 Pennsylvania Ave SE, Washington DC 20003 T. 202.544.0200 F. 202.675.8566 E. uan@aiusa.org amnestyusa.org/urgent/

Note: Please write on behalf of these persons even though you may not have
received the original UA when issued on May 7, 2008. Thanks!

16 June 2008

Further Information on UA 121/08 - Torture and other ill-treatment/serious ill health

BELARUS Emanuel Zeltser

Emanuel Zeltser is still being refused the medication that he desperately needs to treat his diabetes and arthritis. Since his arrest on 12 March, the Belarusian authorities have denied Emanuel Zeltser the treatment he needs and he is now in a great deal of pain, is unable to walk and has difficulty talking.

BACKGROUND INFORMATION
Emanuel Zeltser was arrested and detained on 12 March as he arrived by plane in Belarus. On 21 March he was charged with “use of forged documents.” He is being held in a state security services detention facility in the capital, Minsk, where he has been interrogated, allegedly beaten and denied the medicine he needs urgently to treat his diabetes and arthritis.

RECOMMENDED ACTION: Please send appeals to arrive as quickly as possible:
- calling on the authorities to ensure that Emanuel Zeltser immediately receives the medication prescribed by his doctor, that his lawyer has provided to the detention facility;
- calling on the authorities to order an urgent, independent investigation of reports that Emanuel Zeltser has been tortured or otherwise ill-treated, and to bring those responsible to justice;
- urging the authorities to ensure that Emanuel Zeltser is protected from further torture and other ill-treatment, and given regular access to US consular representatives, lawyers of his choice and any medical attention he may require.


APPEALS TO:
Alyaksandr Lukashenka
President
Administratsia Prezidenta Respubliki Belarus
ul.Karla Marksa, 38
220016 Minsk
BELARUS
Fax: 011 375 17 226 06 10
011 375 17 222 38 72
Salutation: Dear President Lukashenka

Grigorii Vasilevich
Prosecutor General
Internatsionalnaya str., 22
220050 Minsk
BELARUS
Fax: 011 375 17 226 42 52
Salutation: Dear Prosecutor General

COPIES TO:

Vladimir Naumov
Minister of Internal Affairs
Gorodskoi Val str., 2
220050 Minsk
BELARUS
Fax: 011 375 17 203 99 18
Salutation: Dear Minister

Ambassador Mikhail Khvostov
Embassy of the Republic of Belarus
1619 New Hampshire Ave NW
Washington DC 20009
Fax: 1 202 986 1805
Email: usa@belarusembassy.org



PLEASE SEND APPEALS IMMEDIATELY.
Check with the AIUSA Urgent Action office if sending appeals after 28 July 2008.

my house is falling down

Some days I feel as though the walls to my house are crumbling, and I'm running around with a roll of scotch tape trying to fix everything before the plaster turns completely into sand and fills the hallways with sandy dunes of former house atoms.

I've already posted about the hammock snapping off. I didn't post about it, but the towel rack in the boys' bathroom fell off a few weeks ago, leaving holes in the drywall which now need to be patched and painted.

Last week I felt that I got a lot accomplished. I called people to come and fix our garage door. I called the electricians to come and fix the phone jacks, so that we can have more than one phone. I painted Steve's office, finally coving up the bare drywall that the previous owners of our house left us when they moved out their hot tub. I did a LOT. And this week I was going to bask in my home, taking pride in all I had done to fix it up.

Last night, our microwave died.

This is an inconvenience, to be sure. Because I have grown DEPENDENT on this microwave to heat things up. And replacing a microwave should be easy, right? I mean, they sell these things EVERYWHERE.

Only our microwave just happens to be part of a system built into our wall. Connected to our oven. You can see it behind Nick in today's photo.

So now we need a new oven. AND a new microwave. Unless we just buy a microwave and use our old oven and let the old microwave just sit there.

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I'm Saying Something

Last night I saw Mike Daisey's performance of "How Theatre Failed America" in New York. It was so cool. It was especially cool because, as Meg pointed out, he said my name two or three times. And it wasn't just my name, he actually meant ME! It was a great performance, a wonderful show, and I encourage everyone and anyone to see it if they ever get the chance. Only tonight was his final performance in this run, and he' s off on a tour of "If You See Something Say Something!" He's going to Santa Fe. And then to many other places. But NY people - he'll be back in the fall!

Seeing old friends makes me very nervous for some reason. I get nervous before, and I get nervous afterwards thinking that I will or I just did make a fool of myself and look stupid. I was nervous last night. And that's just dumb because Mike has already seen me make a bigger fool of myself than I ever hope to be again. But I got nervous anyway. And I don't think it's him, or any other friend I happen to get nervous around. I think it's me. I get nervous because I feel like a very different person from the girl I was when I really knew him. I am RESPONSIBLE. I have a CHILD! Heck, I have THREE. And I am BREASTFEEDING! And I'm OLD! I'm not nearly as exciting and interesting as I used to be. I mean, it's really altogether too odd. Plus, I just feel nowhere near as cool as anyone else.

And I have to laugh at myself because I know how silly it is, even as my heart is thumping a million miles an hour in my chest and my face is a billion degrees. Because I am NOT the only one who has grown up, you know? It's a process and a major sode effect of LIFE. And I end up having the BEST TIME. Which I did last night. THE BEST. The silliest and best and a lot of fun. So, besides Mike, who provided the entertainment, and his wife Jean Michelle, I have to thank all who made the night possible, including Meg, Jamie, and Anne-E. Why the heck don't I do this more often?

Internet For Kids

Nick and Nate like this game.

I like this one.

And they can spend hours watching this and this over and over... just the theme. Not the show. (Although there's a lot of punching, isn't there?)

Time in a Bottle

I have this game, the Simms, which I used to play constantly.

In case you are unfamiliar with Simms, it's kind of like this: you get to create a "family" made of of a few people. You are them responsible for each member of your family. You need to make sure each member is housed properly, is fed properly, gets enough sleep, takes showers, uses the bathroom, etc. You also have to make sure the person has a job, so that you can get money to buy food. You have to make sure other needs are met - like staying in shape, improving one's mind, having a hobby, having a social life... And the kicker was, the game kept track of time. So you had to make choices about what to do next to make sure everything got done within a certain amount of time.

I was horrible at the game. I would ignore people who needed to use the restroom because it would take them twenty minutes. I refused to socialize. I would let them oversleep and they would miss work. The house would catch on fire because my people would throw tantrums in the middle of the game because they hated their lives so much. And all I could think was that it wasn't like real life. In real life, there was enough time. It didn't take forever to do things.

Well, I was wrong again. Because these days I run around like a headless chicken doing one thing, another, three at once, and I still don't get everything done.

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No Photos

I was all set to download the photos from my camera tonight, but I just didn't get around to it. Besides, most of what's on there is footage from the boys' gymnastics recitals, which looks like ants jumping through hoops in the distance. I'm working on putting the clips together to make a short film for you all. Hope it works!

Anyway, I probably won't have pictures for a few more days. Sorry, but I'm just letting you know how lazy I am.

Remember the Time...

Larissa called me today. We spoke about our trip to Disney later this fall, and Larissa told me about her family trip, when her brother, who was very young, was terrified of every ride and character he came upon, making the trip frustrating for all involved.

I have no doubt that my boys will be able to deal with most of the rides, although they might not want to get too close to the gigantic cartoons-come-to-life. I was, however, reminded of this time we went to the circus, when Emily was about 2 years old. And there we were, having a wonderful time, when my father got the crazy idea to get us all cotton candy. He got us each our OWN cotton candy, so there he was, edging through the seats to bring us our treats... and when Emily got a look at the coton candy she took her fingers out of her mouth and started screaming. It was as though the cotton candy were the most terrifying thing she'd ever seen. SHE WOULD NOT STOP. We had to leave. I was upset.

That Emily! I sure do miss her.

Thanks where Thanks is due

This morning I had to rush the boys out the door to take the car to The Car Place, where they listened when I told them the car was making a flat tire sound even though there was no flat tire. A little over an hour later they told me they rotated the tires, charged me twenty bucks, and I drove off, the car still making that flat tire sound.

But getting the boys dressed and fed and out the door was an effort. Mostly because both Nicholas and Nathan now have a full understanding of "Free Will" and a finely developed sense of "Selective Hearing," so I have to repeat the same requests several times a day, every day. And I need to request every step. I can't just say "Get Dressed" I need to say "Take off your clothes" but even that is too much sometimes and I need to narrow it down to "Take off your pants" but many times it need to be prefaced with something like "Climb out of the clothes hamper" or "Take your finger out of your brother's ear."

This morning, as I was putting together the diaper bag and making a bottle, I was trying to get Nick and Nate to GET WITH THE PROGRAM, which was, of course, "Getting in the car", only they were confused and thought it was "Running around and spreading toys all over the house." I looked up and shouted out to the first child I saw "Put your shoes on."

Nick was talking, but he wasn't talking to me. I think he was talking to Mario. And he was walking back and forth in the dining room, very busy, but mostly very involved in ignoring me.

"Nicholas, put on your shoes!" I shouted. "Get your shoes from the shoe mat and put them on your feet!"

Nothing.

"Nick! Shoes! Now!" I yelled, picking up Andy, who was already crying, and making an attempt to strap his wriggling form into his car seat.

Nicholas kept talking, but suddenly he took a deep breath and said "Mom, Thanks for reminding me about my shoes!"

Seriously? I didn't know what to say.

40 Winks

What do people think about naps? I mean, for themselves and for kids?

Because I never napped as a kid, but as an adult I could nap every day.

And my kids nap. When I can get them to sleep, they nap very well.

But Nick has started to wake up sooner and sooner. And it's taking him longer and longer to actually sleep.

Sure, he's falling asleep before dinner...

I still think if I could just get them all to sleep 40 minutes longer in the morning, all would be well.

Imagination

Ever since I wrote about Nicholas's imaginary friend Mario, people have been telling me about their own imaginary friends. Either that, or they remind me of the children from The Shining or The Amityville Horror, because THEY had imaginary friends TOO, and LOOK WHAT HAPPENED TO THEM!

The most unsettling thing about Nick's imaginary friends, aside from the fact that he talks to them aloud sometimes, is the consistency. Oh, sure, Mario happens to be a two-year-old who drives a car and can write his own name, has a cell phone, etc. But the relationships between the people he dreams up... there is a whole cast of characters here. And they do not change. He remembers them all. He talks about them all.

First of all, there is Mario. The original.

Then, meet Jackie, Mario's little brother.

Then there is Sam, Mario's father, who drives all three of them (Mario, Jackie, and Nick) places on occasion.

Then, there is Mario's Mother, Salty. Please do not ask me about this name, because the first time he said it I collapsed into a huge fit of giggles and had to leave the lunch table.

A little over a week ago, Mario acquired a little sister. Her name is Rhonda. I have no idea where Nick heard this name, but I don't think I have ever actually met anyone named Rhonda. The Beach Boys? Was I singing the Beach Boys?

And finally, today Nicholas mentioned yet another member of this family. Jackie's younger sister (not to be confused with Mario's sister Rhonda). She is new, as of today. Her name is Tuna. Yes, Tuna, as in fish. The daughter of Salty and Sam. Tuna.

Maybe Nicholas will be a novelist.

One Of THOSE Days

You know those days. The ones that are predestined to be horrible and emotional because the baby wakes up at 3:30 am and then mistakes you for a pacifier, causing you to breastfeed for over an hour straight, dozing in and out, and when you wake up and try to dislodge the seemingly asleep baby from your breast he wakes up and screams for a whole half hour. And you never get back to sleep.

Andy has developed this habit of nursing until he falls asleep, but it's taking him longer and longer for full sleep to come upon him. And if I dare to try and "break the seal" before he is completely asleep, he wakes himself up with the screaming and the thrashing about.

Anyway, I did not have a good morning. I was tired. I couldn't get two minutes without someone crying or asking for milk or needing something. Everywhere I looked I saw things that needed to be done - appointments I need to make, decisions I need to make. Errands I have to run but can't with the kids in tow. Projects I would really like to complete but I can't without someone doing something else first. I was overwhelmed with the fact that I do laundry EVERY SINGLE DAY and that, no matter what I do, I can't get the smell of pee or milk out of certain items of clothing. I was feeling sorry for myself that I have to bend over backwards to spend a night at the theatre - and I STILL don't have a babysitter for next Saturday, by the way. Anyone know any NYC sitters?

Anyway, I ate a lot of chocolate and drank a few sodas and got mack into my groove, more or less. I just need a little vacation. A little ME time. You know. For ME.

I SCREAM etc.

As I mentioned in a few previous posts, I am now feeding Andrew "solid" food. Meaning that I feed him mush from plastic containers with pictures of real food on them. So far he likes yellow, loves orange, hates green. We've even progressed to the "Stage 2" series, the ones that actually MIX the foods together, and are supposed to be even MORE solid, but to tell you the truth I think it's the same junk in a bigger container. Which is why we get it - the bigger container.

Anyway, Andrew's appetite ranges from eating a few bites and then sputtering mush all over the place with his lips (green) to swallowing everything and crying because I have the audacity to start CLEANING UP!

But no matter what, he is always cranky when the family sits down to dinner. Now I make a habit of feeding him BEFORE dinner. I know it isn't fair, but I have this thing about wanting to eat my own dinner without getting mushed squash up to my elbow or interrupting to wrestle a spoon away from a soggy green mass of baby fist. So when we sit down to eat, Andy is in his high chair with NO FOOD! I have started giving him a few stars, little melty puffs, and he attacks them and grabs them in a soggy fist and then tries to get them into his mouth, but mostly he misses and they stick to his hand until he has ten of them there, and no more in front of him, and he starts crying because HE CAN'T FIND THEM!

But mostly Andy wants what we have. And we can't give it to him because he has no teeth.

Tonight, though, I broke a rule. I actually fed Andy a tiny, crumb sized dot of Steve's Ice Cream Birthday Cake.

And he loved it.

He loved it so much, in fact, that he began screaming and reaching for my cake, and the screaming would reach an unholy level of rage whenever the fork passed him by and took the ice cream to my mouth instead of his.

Andy is not supposed to eat dairy because he's only 6 months and too young. But somehow I have already gotten him hooked on ice cream.

Oh, yeah. I'm that good.

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Friday the 13th

In case you haven't looked at a calendar today, tomorrow is Friday the 13th.

In some places, Friday the 13th is supposed to be good luck. Or at least the number 13 is, so maybe I'm just making assumptions.

But here, in MY world, Friday the 13th is supposed to be BAD luck. Like the movies. The Friday the 13th movies. Which you settle down to watch and then you realize they are just SO BAD and you are wasting your time and your brain cells are melting, and isn't that bad luck? Picking so awful a film?

Anyway, this time around Friday the 13th just happens to me STEVE'S BIRTHDAY. The bad thing about this is... well... I never know what to get him. Or I know but they don't make it anymore, or I know because he forwarded me an email with the link to the specific item he wants. And I have, in the past, actually purchased computer stuff to give him without having the slightest idea what I am buying. I am probably on some list somewhere for people who order strange electronic equipment in an effort to build a giant machine to control the forces of the universe. Because Steve is probably building one in our basement right now.

The REALLY bad thing about Steve's birthday being on Friday is that Father's Day is on Sunday. The whole weekend becomes about Steve. But I only end up with enough soap on a rope for ONE Steve-Day. Not two.

And I guess what I am saying is that I wish I could just once come up with something so special and amazing and leave him thrilled. Something that will convey exactly how much I care and think about him and love him and appreciate him.

Happy Birthday, Steve!

Knock on WOOD

For the past week, I have had only one child in diapers.

Well, excepting nap times and night time.

But seriously... enough said.

Grocery Store

When I was a kid my mother would shop for groceries at a store twenty minutes away. There were closer stores, and I remember asking my mother why, oh WHY did we have to go so far away for groceries?

Today I tried a new grocery store. Well, the store isn't new. I just don't like going in there because the few times I've had to grab small items there it seemed... grungy. And my grocery store, the one I usually shop at, it really nice! The produce section has fake trees for ambiance, the aisles are wide enough for carts to pass each other, and I KNOW WHERE EVERYTHING IS. Seriously, you can NOT underestimate this when you're shopping with three kids.

But I tried the new store because I had heard from several people that it was so much less expensive to shop there.

It was, to say the least, a frustrating experience. The produce looked like it had been swept off the street - there was no fresh clean look about it. Dirty, in fact. And I couldn't find tomatoes or carrots. I later learned that lots of tomatoes have been pulled, which makes me wonder about the hard pink ones I eventually bought. Anyone hear anything about carrots?

Then everything was in the wrong place. I couldn't find what I needed, cereals were all jumbled together, the sweet ones with the healthy ones, which made it VERY hard to suggest good choices. They didn't have the all the brands I use, so I had to make some quick choices as the boys ran around like lunatics.

In the end I didn't spend as much as I usually do. And it's true that some items did end up being less expensive than at the store I like. But it still isn't clear to me if the overall total was lower because if the prices, or because I didn't buy everything I had set out to.

Hot N Dirty

Monday is my designated "Clean The House Day." I have to designate a day to do this on the weeks the cleaning service doesn't come. Usually, it's OK. I get as much clean as I can and then either save the rest for the next day, or the next week. Because I usually need the house to be just clean enough to function.

This morning I started cleaning before I got dressed. Why? Because I noticed the dining room table was covered in yellow pollen. So I dusted it. But this afternoon when I deposited my unfolded laundry on it... well, it was covered in pollen again.

And upstairs my nightstand is covered with pollen, also. But I didn't get to clean upstairs today because it got too hot to move. So not only are our brains baking inside our skulls and our flesh threatening to melt off our bones, but they will be nicely marinaded in yellow pollen when it happens.

Heat In The Kitchen

Lillian took this picture yesterday at the Library Festival. See how sneaky Andy is as he tries to steal my Diet Coke? But I'm on to him.


Yesterday it started getting hot. I said that. I said it yesterday.

But today it kept on being hot. The whole night was hot. At 8am I realized that the only outdoor time we'd get that day would have to happen immediately. And forty minutes later we walked out into the backyard. (It took us forty minutes to get shoes and sunscreen and hats.) Thirty minutes later I was drenched in sweat. This is 9:15 am.

So we went back inside. And the day got hotter.

The kids were cross and I was short tempered, so I tried an early nap. An hour into naptime Andy woke up, and Nick and Nate were still chatting and singing and kicking and jumping out of bed and then trying to jump right back in before I could make it to their room to see who it was. So I lost it. I dragged Nate into my bed with me and Andy. Andy immediately began smiling and laughing because to him, getting to be next to Nate is just the best thing in the world. And Nate immediately began poking his fingers into Andy's ears. I had to get in between them. And even then Nate started poking the moles on my back and running his fingers through the ends of my hair.

It was so hot.

Nate finally fell asleep for a few minutes, but Nick never did. All afternoon they fought and whined and kicked and demanded milk or juice or grapes or whatever. And I snapped at them because I was hot and tired and cranky TOO!

Honestly, it's been hotter. I guess we're just not used to it. Seeing that only on Friday we were wearing JACKETS.

Slip n Mud

Today was the first very HOT day that we've had. Nicholas, of course, wanted to ride his new bike, speaking of which... I guess I accidentally deleted the videos I made. Oh well.

Anyway, I decided that it was too hot to stand in the middle of the driveway, and instead I hooked up the new water slide I got a few weeks ago. It's something like a Slip 'n Slide. You know - a huge strip of plastic with water sprinkling on it. The idea is that a small child jumps on it and slides to the other end, into the big huge mud puddle that has formed in the grass.

Here's what I learned:

- the plastic will not propel the child all the way to the end unless the child takes a running leap

- if the child takes a running leap, then it will hurt, because the ground is hard

- if the child steps on the plastic with his foot, he'll slip and fall

- water and dirt make mud

- boys and mud make muddy boys

- just because a boy screams when he gets wet in the bathtub, with heated water, doesn't mean he won't yelp with delight and roll around in the dirty, muddy, cold hose water

The boys had a great time. It was worth the bother and the extra laundry. I have no pictures. Which is good. Because my camera would have gotten soaked.

Also, Jamie was not there. This is just a picture from when he WAS here.

Sleep Baby Sleep

Not too long ago I was under the impression that Andrew was sleeping through the night. He would sleep from 7pm until 3am-ish. And then wake up again just before five. But that's good enough for me. I'd climb into the guestroom bed with him at five and get as much sleep as I could before the older boys woke and started running up and down the halls.

Unfortunately, Andy didn't like that plan. He like the morning part just fine, the part where he was nursing in bed with me. But the rest of it, the part where he was alone and I wasn't with him? Yeah, he didn't like that as much.

So he began crying. And screaming. Many, many times a night. Sometimes he begins crying before I can fall back asleep from feeding him the last time. Sometimes he starts crying before I can get back into bed.

The daytime isn't really much better. He sleeps for hours at a time, but not during naptime! Oh, no! He'll fall asleep, but before the older boys can stop their chattering long enough to fall asleep, Andy is wailing in his crib. I try to run with him on the floor, but he cries as soon as I begin, wailing as though I were causing him pain. So working out is sporadic and frustrating. And as soon as it is over Andy goes to sleep on my bed.

Sometimes I skip working out just to nap with him, so that I can get some sleep.

I keep telling myself it's a phase. I hope it is. Because I've never been very good at letting a baby cry.

Chatter

Noise Noise Noise NOISE

And because the joys of potty training never end.

Summer Lovin

Friday is the last day of school. There are two more weeks of Gymnastics. Aside from four weeks of swim lessons in July, the boys are free... and I, apparently, am not.

There are pros and cons to having an open schedule. It's good to not have to be anywhere, and to know we can go to the beach or the park or even - if I'm motivated - into Boston or to the mountains or the REAL beach. But on the other hand... days can drag on. We can go stir crazy. And the boys can drive me bonkers when I don't get a break.

Breaking Point

That's it, I've had it! The kids are driving me crazy. Between crying and lifting Rolos from the candy display at the supermarket, to hitting each other, throwing a fit because I demand washing hands before dinner...


I'm packing the boys up and sending them to Alaska. Or Argentina. Or Las Vegas. Nick plans on visiting those places eventually, anyway.

Actually, we had a pretty good day today. But I sure am tired.

.

Let The Sun Shine

At this point I would just like to say that I appreciate the weather change. The kids and I go out almost every day. I hang clothes on the line. The boys ride bikes. As soon as Nick's out of school I plan on taking them to the beach and the park.

But I don't like sunscreen. And the fact that I have to chase the boys to put it on. And I don't like how I have to keep putting hats on heads.

And at some point I shall get more photos up here. Just haven't had the... motivation, really.

Six Years

Steve and I were married six years ago today.

Four years ago today we left Nicholas at the hospital NICU.

And yesterday Nick had his first Birthday Party with friends from school. I was nervous about it, more nervous than I should have been, because of the Moms. I had to take hold of myself and remember than other moms are people, too. And that it was 90 minutes, and a kid's party.

It went OK, I think. The kids seemed to have fun. And I got to see Betsy again and her little smooshie babies! They are pink! I mean girls! Hee hee!