The Very Hungry (and scary) Caterpillar

I may have mentioned that I planted a few tomato plants this year. I may also have mentioned that a few of the plants have, in fact, actually produced some tomatoes.
A few weeks ago I started to notice that something had eaten the leaves off my carrots. Not the actual carrots themselves, just the leafy parts above the ground. After some concern, I decided that, as long as the actual roots were intact and kept growing, there was nothing to worry about. I thought is was these gold beetles eating them, as I'd seen a few of them.

But then my tomato leaves started disappearing. Seriously, whole leaves. Nothing but a green stem and some green branches holding a few tomatoes was left on one plant. Another plant had half a green tomato left. There simply weren't that many beetles.
I was watering my poor plants, wondering what I was going to do, what animal was getting this close to the house, how I would protect the plants, when I noticed something. My mind couldn't make sense of it at first. It was like a clump of cherry tomatoes, but grown so close together that they merged to form one long strand of.... wait, it wasn't on the cherry tomato plant, it was a regular tomato plant. One without the leaves. It was.... THE BIGGEST CATERPILLAR I HAD EVER SEEN.
This isn't the actual caterpillar we found. It is one just like it I found off the internet, but it will give you some idea of how huge this monster was.
It's important to know that it's huge, because then I sound less crazy when I tell you this next part. I ran inside and got Steve to get rid of it for me. I was afraid to touch it, because I was afraid it was going to bite me. I mean, this thing was as long and thick as a hot dog. A huge, thick, green, lumpy hot dog with stripes and dots. And if it's able to finish off half a beefsteak tomato, imagine what it would do to my hand!

Dinner With Andrew

Andrew and I had an evening alone the other week. The conversation was very entertaining.

Arrested Development

If you haven't seen Arrested Development, you should. Right now. Stop reading, join Netflix, and watch all three seasons. Then you can come back and start reading again.

Seriously, I love this show. I have watched every single episode at least twice. And the part where Tobias jumps off the balcony with the umbrella fifty two times. There is just something about a talented cast and good writing that I really enjoy, and on occasion miss.

But the other thing about Arrested Development is that it's about a family with a lot of grown children. Like Brothers and Sisters, only funny. And when I watch shows like this I can't help but think "It's like my own family!" And it is... with a few notable differences, such as my father not being wanted by the police, and us not living in Southern California, and Ron Howard not narrating the details of our lives... But everything else is EXACTLY the same. Which is why I immediately start casting the show with my own siblings. In my head. You know, which of us is most like Tobias, or Michael, etc. This is especially fun when I'm on my second glass of wine.

Sadly, I came to the conclusion that I am most like Buster, despite the fact that in real life I have progeny and a lifelong mate.

Science

We took a trip to the Museum of Science.

I was worried the kids would be too young for this particular museum. I hadn't been there in years, even though I used to work without walking distance. It turned out it's changed a lot, and it's a lot bigger than I remember it being. There were a lot of things on exhibit that were a little too complicated for the boys to grasp.

But there was a lot there that they loved. We saw the butterfly garden, a 3-D dinosaur movie, and a Thunder show. We visited a playground, played with light and sound, and got to see baby chicks. (Baby Chicks! Baby Chicks!) It turned out to be a great day.

Growing So Fast

So then we told Andrew that until he got a job, he had to follow our rules. That couldn't possibly backfire, could it?

Don't Feel Bad For Andy

Last week, while the older boys were enjoying a day at the gym 'n swim camp, Lillian stopped by with a little something for Andy. A little train set.

Ever since we had a boy, Steve and I have been discussing train sets. There are so many, every single one different, and most of them huge and invasive. Meaning a lot of train sets require a table permanently installed in the most convenient location, probably the kitchen or right in front of the TV. And also the tracks come apart and get lost and the kids don't want to play with them once they have them.... whatever. The fact that we want to get the "perfect" one just means we've deprived our boys of having their own train set.

Until now. Lillian came by with this little train set, with a Thomas train, a couple of circus coaches, a roundhouse to park them and carry them around in, and enough track to build a small circle.

Andy has not stopped playing with this train set. He has been carrying it around with him ever since, sleeping with the trains and bringing the whole set into the bathroom with him when I tell him he has to go. He's played with it enough to make me think it might be worth going out and getting a few more parts to the set, so that he can make the train go somewhere else. I don't know, a bigger circle? Trains aren't my thing. But they are Andy's thing. His favorite thing. And he's never been happier.

Have Breakfast With The Boys

If they like it, they don't say much. But it doesn't mean they're quiet.

Baby Aftermath

In my planner I have a page dedicated to "Odd Jobs." It's an ongoing list of tasks that need to get done, but which I don't want to do. Or can't seem to find time to do. Like put all the CD's back in the CD case, or clean out that drawer, or that pet closet. Oh, I add things to that list every day of my life.

I have been trying to do at least one of these things every week. Since I have each task written down, I don't fret about it or freak out or try to stall. Suddenly cleaning out the coat closet seems a lot more manageable.

And then, a few days ago, I got to "Get Rid Of Baby Things."

By "Baby Things" I was thinking about the larger baby items. The play yard. The high chair. The baby bath tub. The swing, the bouncer, the saucer, the jumper, the play mat, the booster, the infant car seat, the travel car seat, the front carrier... just a few things taking up half of our basement.

The problem is, I have no idea what to do with this stuff. If I knew someone, anyone, that was having a baby... or maybe even someone who might someday have a baby, or might someday think about having a baby... And would be willing to use broken in furniture... I would keep them. For years, if need be. But at this point I don't think I know anyone like that.

Salvation Army, I guess. If they take that sort of stuff. They'll take some of it, but some places are outstandingly picky. So if anyone knows anyone who wants this kind of stuff, grandparents who might have infants visiting, a couple who are thinking of starting a family... let me know.

The Discouraging CookBook

I planted some vegetables earlier this spring.

You might remember that last year I planted some tomato plants. I planted sixteen plants. I got three tomatoes. All of them were still yellow when the frost came.

Well, this year, I planted carrots, tomatoes, and beans. And fine, the beans were a bust. But I have lots and lots of little carrots! And every day more of the cherry tomatoes ripen. And there are quite a few green big tomatoes are threatening to turn red any day now. And I know it sounds silly, but I am SO proud of myself. It makes me want to plant more. Cucumbers! Onions! Corn! We will never buy grocery store produce again.

Except for one thing. The boys won't eat it.

I know, I know, the carrots look a little different. They aren't bright orange. But come ON! They are still carrots! And you picked them yourself from the little dirt patch in our back yard! That should count for something! At the end of the meal, I find myself throwing away a lot of things that I spent a lot of time growing and weeding and watering. And I try not to get too upset or take it too personally, but it breaks my heart a little.

It's not just the vegetables. Anything I cook gets scrutinized and picked apart. Most nights someone has shouted out "I'm not eating that!" before everyone has seated themselves at the table. Sometimes the boys will get the idea that I've tried extra hard, and try to make me feel better.

Kid - Mmmm, it's good! It's just a little spicy for me.

Me - It's Kraft BBQ sauce.

And then sometimes there's something like this:

Me - You haven't even tried it.

Kid - One time, at school, I tried this and it made my stomach hurt. But I didn't complain about it, so you didn't know.

I keep telling myself that some day, things will change, and I won't be able to keep food in the house. It's just... I'm so discouraged.

Day Camp

I signed Nick and Nate up for a few days at day camp this summer. It's at the place where they take gymnastics. The day includes a gymnastics class, a craft, lunch time, free play, and some time in their pool. And they boys LOVE it. I love it. I get 4 hours Nick and Nate free! I would have signed up Andy, but the classes start at 3 years. And I would have signed them up until 3pm, but they only take 5 year olds until 3pm, all younger kids must get picked up at 1pm.

The first day I dropped the boys off they were gleeful. They couldn't say goodbye fast enough. AS we drove away Andy said "Nick and Nate happy."

"What about you?" I asked. "Aren't you happy?"

Andy sighed. "No. I sad."

It's tough being the little guy.

Danger

Andy keeps climbing up and leaning his head against the window screens.

These are not strong screens. Many of them already have holes in them. One day Andy will lean his little head against one and then go tumbling through, outside and down a story to the ground below. Ugh.

I'd keep the windows shut, but it is So Hot!

Picking Up

The boys have a toy room.

I know when the toy room has reached maximum messiness capacity because toys start making their way out into the hallway. Big toys. And I know that Andrew hasn't just suddenly found a desire to play with the blocks on my bedroom floor. It's just that the toy room has no more floor to use up.

I try gentle hints. I make them move the toys back to the toy room, telling them that they need to clean up if they can't play in there. I remind them that, eventually, someone is going to have to vacuum in there. And the boys shrug their shoulders and put it off.

So every few weeks I tell the boys that today is the day! They still push back. "After Lunch!" or "After Nap!" And it isn't until I get mean "No Snack until the room is clean!" that they finally head off for the room.

But even then there isn't a whole lot of work getting done. Remember, there are three of them. And they all know that, if they plan very carefully, they might not have to work that hard. Nick used to spend the entire time yelling "Nate! Pick Up! Mom! Nate's Not Picking Up!" As though he might accidentally do more work than Nate, and then Nate would get a prize.

Nick doesn't usually do that anymore. But there is a universal dodging of certain items. A boy will scoot down to pick something up and then hesitate, as if choosing the toy to pick up were like choosing the holy grail. Which one? Which one? The lego? No, the tiny car. No, the Mr. Potato Head Nose!

In fact, the only way anything actually gets picked up is if I'm standing there yelling "Pick it up! Pick it up! Lego! Lego! Now put it away! In the box In the box!" If I stop yelling, even for a few seconds, all movement stops. The boys forget what they are doing and just stand there, staring around at the floor.

Andy doesn't do much of anything during all this. He picks something up and starts to play with it. He wants everything to go on his bed.

It would be easier to do this all myself. Or to get rid of all the toys. I just don't know which one is more reasonable.

No Pictures

I love taking and posting pictures. But I still don't have any. The kids haven't changed much, though.

I'm going to keep posting, for now. Please be patient with me. I'm struggling to come up with topics and material, and trying to remember the difference between Loose and Lose.

Thinking Of Stopping

I have been considering taking a break from blogging.

This would be a big step for me. I love blogging. It makes me feel like I'm actually connecting to people, which I don't physically do on a daily basis. And I get to practice writing.

But on the other hand, I spend a lot of time on this blog. More time than I should be spending, perhaps, given the outcome. (It's hardly War And Peace, now, is it?) There are many days I feel I have nothing to write and I'm babbling. And times where I have plenty to say but don't think I should say it, for privacy reasons.

Part of me thinks that, if I stop blogging, I might have more time during the day for other things. I can keep the computer (and the iPad) away for a few days, spend more time with my kids. If I feel lonely I might actually be motivated to go see someone, or call them up, instead of writing a letter to Dear Internet.

On the other hand... I might not be able to make a clean break. I love you, Internet!

Tv Melts Your Brain

I recently got an iPad.

I couldn't tell you exactly what an iPad does if I tried. It does a lot of things, but not everything. One thing, however, that I use it for everyday, is playing Tv shows and movies.

Since getting the iPad, I have watched 3 seasons of 30Rock, and 4 seasons of Bones. Back to back. I stream them, meaning I don't need a DVD, they play right of my iPad with no commercials or anything. It's amazing. And I love it.

And since I started watching so much TV, I have begun to lose it during real life. I have to ask my kids to repeat themselves two or three times before their words can sink in. I forget what it is I'm doing. My brain has started to melt. I don't think this is Beach Brain. I think it's Brain Jelly.

Don't get me wrong, I still love Bones. I just.... maybe I need to put down the iPad for awhile.

Thing I Still Need To Do This Sumer

Bathe the dog.

Take the dog to the vet to get that bump on his back removed.

Call (who?) about a new deck.

Call (who?) to get that tree that fell during the ice storm removed from our lawn.

Go to Santa's Village.

Go to the beach.

Buy new summer shorts that actually fit me.

Camp out in the back yard with the boys.

Invite some people over for a cookout. (but what about our horrible deck?)

visit a Farmer's Market.

Teach the kids to swim.

lose-lose situation

Nathan was sick. He kept throwing up, not constantly, not seriously, but this lasted more than a week. And although he was spending time playing, and didn't have a fever, and wasn't dehydrated, it was a whole week, and he was in such pain when he did get sick.

When things like this happen, I don't know what to do. If I call the doctor, I feel like I am over reacting to a little tummy trouble. He doesn't have a fever. He isn't dehydrated. What do I expect them to do? Give it time, he'll get over it. I am wasting my time, the doctor's time, and the co-pay. Also, I'm scarring my child by dragging him into the doctor when he isn't sick.

But if I don't take him in, I'm a horrible parent, also. He's been sick for over a WEEK! He's in pain. There could be something wrong. He might need medication. He could have a tumor. I should have taken him in last week!

Of course I took him in. And of course the doctor said it was a stomach bug, and to give it a little more time. Which we did, and he's been fine. I just... I wish I didn't go to extremes with things like this, issues involving my children. I wish there were real, right and wrong answers. Because who's to say that the woman who drags her kid to the doctor every time he has a runny nose doesn't go back and forth the same way I do? Ditto the mom who sends her kids to school with a double ear infection. I would judge them harshly, but to them, it may just be the flip of a coin.

Toy Story 3

We went to see Toy Story 3 this past weekend.

First, I would like to comment on the brilliance of the merchandising scheme. Instead of a movie where you need to come up with toys to sell, like the Star Trek bobble head dolls or the amaing Indiana Jones Chinese yo-yo whip, simply make a movie about TOYS! Then you can actually SELL THOSE TOYS! And most of them are already existing toys! Mr. Potato Head! Army Guys! Barbie! But that's not really enough, apparently, because there are a number of different kinds of Woodys and Buzzes out there, including, oddly, Hot Rod cars decorated in helmets and hats, as though the toys were some kind of odd Transformers.

My kids love Toy Story. There's something about Woody And Buzz that little boys fall in love with. We have the fist one on tape (yes, tape) and they've seen it about 351 times. In case you haven't seen in, Toy Story is about toys that belong to a little boy names Andy, and how his favorite toy, Woody, reacts when a new toy, Buzz Lightyear, threatens to take over as Andy's Favorite.

Well, Toy Story 3... Andy goes to college. And he doesn't play with his toys anymore. And he has to decide if they will get thrown away, donated, stored in the attic, or if he's going to bring them to college.

Let me say that one more time: Andy is going to college.

Yes, I cried.

And that's where the movie starts. If you have a kid to take to see this movie, or aren't afraid of going without one... Barbie and Ken were my favorites.

Technology

Lillian let me borrow a mystery novel, the first in a series, which was written in the 1980's.

Let me just say, up front, that I don't consider the 1980's to be the distant past. I remember the 80's. I lived them. Therefore they must have happened... well, just yesterday. I am constantly shocked by the paradox of time, such as when children born in the 90's are old enough to drive or go to college or, God Forbid, have children themselves. I tried to watch Back To The Future a few weeks ago, a movie I saw in the theater, twice, and loved. And I realized that we were almost as far from 1985 as Marty was from 1955.

Yes, like sands through the hourglass, yadda yadda yadda.

And at first, I was disappointed. In the Back To The Future films, the future was a vastly different place, with holographs and mechanical wonders and flying machines everywhere. And our future didn't turn out to be half as fantastical, did it?

But if you pick up a mystery novel written in the 80's, certain things start to stand out. And I'm not just talking about the lack of Homeland Security. In this book the detective stumbles upon a crime scene. He then picks up the phone, dials a number, punches in a few more numbers, and hangs up. And twp minutes later, the phone rings, and it's his partner. I had to read that paragraph TWICE before I realized he was punching in a beeper number. Remember beepers? They were really big before cell phones.

Nobody had cell phones in the 80's. Oh, there were car phones - we had a phone in our car. It was huge. It was wired in. You had to know the number. It was pretty confusing and, when you think about how tiny and portable cell phones are, really inconvenient.

And now phones are not just phones. We surf the web with them - you know, the internet. That vast mystical realm of information out there, some of it more reliable than the rest, somehow just floating in the air, waiting to make its way to your computer. And we use the internet for email - something much faster and more convenient than sending letters. And emails can now be sent right to your phone. You can get email while you're waiting on line at the grocery store, or picking up your kid at school.

What's more, you can play games on your phone. Games much better than the blocky Atari ones we used to play, the ones that required a Blocky TV (TV's used to be 3D, meaning they weren't always flat), and a game system the size of a typewriter. And cartridges with the games on them were as big as Video tapes.

You remember video tapes? They used to have those before DVD's. Which we practically don't need anymore because the internet allows us to download movies and TV shows right to our TVs and computers and phones. You can go on vacation and still answer work calls and emails, and then watch a movie and listen to your favorite band's newest song. You can take pictures with your phone and movies with your phone and share them with your friends and family instantly my uploading them to the social networking site of your choice.

I can remember when taking a picture was a gamble because you only had 24 shots on a roll of film, and the best you could hope for was that everyone was looking at the camera and no one was making a funny face and that you didn't cut anyone's head off. Now you can take 47 shots of a sunset. You can take pictures of every pair of shoes in a store and email them to your girlfriend to see what she thinks because she needs a new pair and they are having a sale and you happen to be there while she is at work.

It's scary, isn't it? We don't know what the future is going to be like. Even 25 years from now, we can't predict what will be big and what will fizzle like a sparkler.

Not For The Squimish

I had a tough morning.

The morning came after a particularly rough night, one Nate spent in bed with me, crying and throwing up and falling off the bed. So we got off to a late start.

When Nate woke up, it turned out he had wet the bed. Accidents happen. And Andy's diaper had leaked. So I changed Andy, stripped the sheets and threw them in the wash while I fed the boys breakfast. Four minutes after the wash cycle began, I realized Andrew had had his own messy accident. Yuck.

So I changed Andrew and rinsed out his pants and underwear. Fast forward to an hour later, as I step out of the shower. I hear Nicholas shouting "Mom! I need you NOW!"

I stand there, dripping and irritated and already sweating in the heat, "WHAT?"

"Andy pooped in his pants and there's pee on the stairs and Andy has poop on his hands!"

I grab a towel and leave wet footprints on my rug. I pick up Andy, at arm's length bring him to the bathroom. I strip him, plop him in a warm bath, once again rinse out poopy clothing. I step into the hallway. "Nick, where is the poop?"

No one is in the hallway. Except Gunther. Who is licking his chops.

Dogs are So Gross. So, so very revolting.

After I hunt down the step with the puddle of pee on it, clean out the bathtub, chase down Andy and force him into his third change of clothing for the day, it is 10am.

10AM, and I am already done.

Setting Myself Up

I have a lot of brilliant ideas.

For example, to encourage the kids to behave and do certain chores, such at put their dirty clothing in the hamper and brush their teeth without my nagging them, I give them stickers for each task completed. Once they have a certain number of stickers, they get a prize.

This means I not only get to decide the magic number of stickers, but the prize. Last time I chose 100 stickers, and the prize was a $10 gift card to Toys R Us, which quickly turned into just $10 at the store, because why would I pay for the cards when we were obviously going to use them that day? And it turned out that they reached 100 stickers a lot sooner than I thought they would.

So this time I made the prize something big. Really big. A trip to Santa's Village! Which is a little like cheating because I had been planning on going there anyway. I WANT to take the kids there. This summer. It's in my Overall Plan.

The trouble is, I set the goal at 300 stickers. 300 is a lot more than 100.

So now I'm realizing that, at the current rate, we might not make it to 300 stickers this summer. And I've resorted to handing out extra stickers for things like "not complaining during our trip to the store" or "going to get me that diaper." Which wasn't really the point.

Considering Life At Sea

4th of July

I have to admit, the 4th of July has never been a big holiday with me. Aside from the historical and musical aspects, that is. These days people seem to celebrate by sitting outside in the sun and the heat, and then waiting and waiting until dark to see fireworks. As an adult, I don't usually get excited by fireworks. I think they mostly look the same, and they are loud, and it takes to long to get dark for them, and the pets get freaked out, and also, I'm usually in bed.So when Steve suggested we go to the boat for the 4th, with the boys, to hang out and see some fireworks, my first thought was Ahhhhhhh! Because quite honestly, the boat is not relaxing for me. Especially with three boys who can't swim and who think the whole purpose of the boat is to go above and below deck as many times as possible, and also they keep needing to take off and put on life jackets, and hitting each other over the head with the fishing rods and the fish hooks and the sea worms and.... you do the math.
But something surprising happened. I had a wonderful time! My Uncle Ken was there, so I got to spend some time with him. The kids were surprisingly non-violent and calm. We did a little fishing and the fireworks... well, they were amazing.
The sunset wasn't so bad, either.

Lost In The Woods

I signed Nick up for a music camp last week. It was just a few mornings with the music teacher at his school, someone I admire greatly, by the way, for being able to choreograph a hundred and fifty kindergarten children singing A Grand Old Flag.

Anyway, this left me with two hours with the other two kids.

The last day, I thought I would take them to explore a trail our town had recently paved, a long stretch that used to have railroad tracks, but is now open to pedestrians, pooches, and bikes. Not knowing how long it was, or if it was paved the whole way, we started out just walking.

Nathan complained the whole time we walked away from the car, saying his stomach hurt, while Andrew ran ahead. When I said we were turning back, Andy cried, saying he wanted to keep going. Nathan started running back. Then Andy cried because he wanted me to pick him up and carry him.

Wait - this is just setting up. The real story is yet to come.

See, on our way back home, I stopped by this little nature conservation area. It's next to a couple of tennis courts and a playing field, and I have never stopped there. But another mom told me she heard there was a pond there, and maybe we should plan a picnic, so I decided to poke my head in and see what it looked like. I figured it would take us two minutes. Five minutes, tops.

I located the dark wooden signs with arrows that pointed out the trails. One said "Pond Loop East" and the other "Pond Loop West." And I figured we'd just start walking until, you know, we found the pond. I figured it couldn't be very big. Because we've lived here a long time. Years. Really close by. And driven by this very spot many, many times. How much space could really be back there, behind those trees?

Well, it turns out there can be a HECK of a lot of space back there.

We started walking and it was kind of nice, the trail covered in pine needles, the sunlight streaming through the trees. I carried Andy because he was so tired. And Nate carried a game cartridge for his hand held game system. I don't know why.

And after a little while, after a few wooden bridges and a few stepping over trees that had fallen along the path, I was sure we were almost there. And then, when I was sure we were just about to come back to the place where our car was, the path opened up to the pond, which was actually more of a big huge swamp. And we were all the way on the wrong side.

So we kept on. The bugs had found us out, and I had to keep rubbing my hand over Andy's head and legs to get the mosquitoes off him. (I DID put bug spray on us all, at the start of our first walk) And then I kept seeing the end. "We're there!" I'd say. And it would just be a bend in the path. "Look, the field!" Only it was some completely different field, overgrown and untouched for years, and I actually started wondering if we'd stepped through to another dimension and it was a hundred years later and we'd never find our car again. But we kept going. And then I was convinced we'd lost our way, and that, even if we found our way back, we'd never get back to the car in time to pick up Nick.

Andy was in good spirits, mostly because I was still carrying him. But I was worried because he wasn't wearing a diaper, and who knew when he'd pee all over me. Nate was quiet, and would run ahead whenever possible so that he could sit down for a split second before I caught up to him.

When we finally made it back to the car I realized there was absolutely no way we were ever going to sit down anywhere in that bug infested swamp of a pond with food to have a picnic. Also, I realized that I am an idiot who should have turned around as soon as I realized the pond wasn't Right There. Also, I'm carrying bug spray around in my hand All The Time now. Andy has bug bites all over his little body, especially on the back of his neck.

And to make matters worse, it turned out Nate wasn't fooling about the tummy ache. He's been throwing up for days now. Probably a mild something or other made ten times worse by being dragged through the woods for an hour.

Why and I such an idiot? And why do I feel the need to inflict it on my boys?

1776

The 4th of July is when I celebrate one of my favorite musical comedies.

That would be 1776, folks. I'm odd, and strange, and I have a thing for John Adams.

Have a great day, be safe, and eat lots of pie.

So Close

Andrew is now walking around days wearing underwear.

Most of the time, he does fine. I have to remind him to use the bathroom, and sometimes I have to talk him into it, but he knows what to do.

Things tend to get iffy in the afternoon, when I get really busy and we're both tired and I forget to remind him.

But still. The end is in sight.

Working Out

Thanks to everyone who commented with their support and encouragement when I posted about my weight. Everyone said really nice things, and I am now taking pictures, shaking up my workout, and setting new goals that don't involve weight, but strength and endurance.

I have cut back on my run, not because I want or need to run less, but because it's summer and I now run with all three boys watching TV in the room. It's like a ticking time bomb, wondering how long they will last before I need to stop and get off and deal with a confrontation or someone banging their head into the wall.

But I have added on a few minutes of other exercises. The other day I did a few things to work on my triceps. I only did a very few, and it felt awkward, not hard. I didn't feel like I worked out at all. But here I am, two days later, and my arms still HURT! So... that's good.

The truth is, I'm a parent. I do whatever I can given the circumstances. Not only with working out, but with everything in my life. And I guess that won't change.

The Scary Dove

Ever since the Zooquarium, Andrew has been getting out of bed because he hears a Scary Dove. We will put him to bed, and he will come thumping down the stairs fifteen minutes later. "I hear the dove!" he says. Apparently, having turkeys and hens chase you down for corn kernels can be quite traumatic.

Sometimes we think he's asleep, but when we get to the bedroom we find him asleep in our own bed. It's scary, because he's small, and a couple of times I sat on him before I noticed him.

And then the other night Steve went upstairs to find the door to our bedroom locked. Andy was inside, in the pitch black. He had unplugged Steve's clock radio and the phone, removed all the pillowcases, and found a piece of chewed gum, which he stuck all over the floor. And then passed out on our bed.

I wish this were the worst of it, but the early bird singing wakes Andy up before 5am, and he comes crawling into our bed. And then he kicks me and pulls individual strands of my hair until I get up or kick him out.

Stupid dove.