Franch Fries, Franch Toast, And to Drink....

My father likes going out for meals when he's in France. And so do I. It's easy to go, sit, and spend hours performing a ritual - the drinks, the first course, the main course, the dessert... the trouble is, the kids are not quite there, and eating that much even once a day is not a healthy thing for body or pocketbook.
So most of the time the places we went out to eat were casual, places where the kids could climb under the table or go run around is some courtyard. Places where they served either pizza or a kids menu.
I started off getting just Nate and Nick kids meals, and letting Andy feed from bites off of others. He never eats a lot, anyway. But after a few failed attempts I finally broke down and got him his own Steak Hache with fries. He was so obviously pleased when the plate was set in front of him - he smiled and hid his face before digging in.
The food is different, so it's hard to know what to order. The first night, Steve and I were deliberating over what pizza to order for each boys. "I'm going to get Nick the 'Quatre Fromages' Pizza," Steve said. I was surprised, but figured I'd let it happen. Meanwhile, I was planning on orderingthe most simple pizza for Nate. "Nathan, I'm going to order you the 'Margarita."

Nathan shook his head. "No, Mom. I really want a coke."

Getting My Balance

I think it might take a few days to get back on my feet. Or get my timing back. Or get used to being home. Call it what you will, it's all the same sort of thing.

It's one think if it's just you. If you have a day to sleep and nap when you want, to eat when you want. But I have the kids. My schedule is dictated by theirs. Nicholas, who refused to sleep on the plane on the way back, started crying five minutes before we reached home, and did not stop until we let him climb into bed just before 7pm. Andy, on the other hand, who has slept through a good deal of the flight to NY and ALL of the flight to Boston and then half of the trip home from Lillian's, refused to fall asleep at all, so I rocked him until we were both asleep. Then he woke up at 3:30 AM.

Three. Thirty. In. The. Morning.

Lucky for him I have a sense of humor.

But I did sleep deeply last night. And when I woke up I had the unsettling sensation of not knowing where I was. Upon opening my eyes I tried to make sense of my surroundings in the dark, and I mistook the TV cabinet for one of the open arch-type doorways in my parents' dwelling.

When I realized where I was and things fell into place I was hit with the difference in architecture. There everything is rounded and curved, stone and high ceilings, and that pink-red color. And here, in our home, we have harsh angles and drywall and if you're over six feet you might be able to change the ceiling bulb without a step-stool.

Also, it is under 60 degrees here and raining.

So while I wander around in my dream-state, please forgive my absent minded-ness.

I'm BAAA-ACK!

Ha ha! Due to the miracle of pre-posting, I was able to post several mediocre blog entries over the past two weeks, and no one was able to even tell I was gone! I am an evil genius, I tell you! GENIUS! Bwah-hahahaha!

I have many pictures. I have many stories. But what I do NOT have at the moment is the ability to remain awake much longer, let alone focus my thoughts.

Pack What You Need

I am hopeless when it comes to packing for vacations. I simply cannot predict what I'll need. I usually end up bringing too much stuff. A day into my trip I realize I could have left more than half of what I brought at home, but that I need several things I didn't think to pack.

In this case, we'll be gone for two weeks. That's quite a few changes of clothes, diapers, etc. However, we'll be in a house. We'll have access to a washing machine. We'll have access to a dishwasher for sip cups. And France is not the end of the earth. It's been a couple of years, but I am pretty sure they sell diapers, wipes, shampoo, etc. So I'm only bringing what we need to get us through the first few days.

Here are the bags we plan on checking:

Two Wall-E suitcases and a big black bag. These are holding all clothing items for the boys and myself, including shoes and swimsuits and extra hats, all toiletries, and all the books are toys and diapers we aren't bringing with us on our carry-ons, including a pack of swim diapers and a pack of pull-ups for Nate sleeping. As if this isn't impressive enough, the big black bag also has two booster seats so we can put Nick and Nate in a car and feel safe about it. Two booster seats. In one bag. With all my clothes. Steve will need to pack his own suitcase.

Here's what we're carrying with us on the plane:This is a black backpack, a Wall-E backpack, and the attachment for Andy's carseat, which he will sit in on the flight. See the pile of clothes? This is the pile of clothing we will actually be wearing on the flight.

For the record, we are leaving the day after tomorrow. Which means I am packed two days in advance. Which I think is proof that I'm adopted.

Or maybe I'm just excited to see my parents?

Play

Destructo

Self Portrait

Following Directions

The boys are supposed to be cleaning the living room, but instead they are playing. They are pretending that it's R2-D2's birthday, and turning out the lights and singing "Happy Birthday" over and over again.

Trophy Day!

Andrew should get a trophy for sitting through every gymnastics class.

Baby Boom

I don't usually post pictures of other people's kids. But today I am going to. I'm not using names, and I'm not even naming the parents.

I want to preface this post by saying that I am not pregnant. You hear that, internet? Me, not pregnant, not now! Steve, you may resume breathing.

In fact, this is the longest I've gone without being pregnant since... well, since I first became pregnant. I know this because when Nick was Andy's age, I was due to have a baby at almost any moment, and when Nate was Andy's age I was again weeding through my maternity clothes and trying to find something that didn't make me look (or feel) like the stay-puff marshmallow man.

Maybe this pause between pregnancies is why my baby hormones have suddenly gone into overdrive. For the first time since before I became a mom, I am looking at infants and coveting. Sure, I looked at babies and infants and loved them. I thought they were cute. I wised I could dress my kids in pink polka dots and cute shoes. But I didn't feel any need associated with them. I could think they were adorable smushes, and that was it.


These days the feeling is overwhelming. I look at an infant and think "I gotta have one!" Lucky for me I have an actual brain that steps in and says "YOU ARE SLEEPING THROUGH THE NIGHT, MORON! YOU HAVE ONE MORE YEAR OF DIAPERS AND SIX MORE MONTHS OF WHOLE MILK! YOU ALMOST HAVE YOUR LIFE BACK!" Besides all that, the logistics of having a fourth child, not to mention the pregnancy, would most likely be like a hydrogen bomb exploding in our home. We simply could not deal with it. So a fourth child is out. And frankly, that makes me sad, because part of me knows I could do four.



These feelings are hitting me at a time when it seems everyone, and I mean EVERYONE is pregnant, or just had a baby. Take the liks on this site. Debs of It's my Life is halfway through her own pregnancy. And you can check out Dooce for updates about her new addition. No fewer than five of my facebook friends are currently expecting. And a few of them have newbies. And in my crazed state, I sometimes wonder if the universe is trying to tell me something.

This is when you post comments to tell me I'm wrong, and that three is enough.

New Blood

For those of you who have not noticed, I have added a couple of new links to my site.

The first is Awkward Family Photos. This is a funny site. Some photos are bad. Some are bizarre. Some are just... awkward. Go there. Browse it. I dare you not to laugh at a few.

The second is The Abehsiras in Singapore. This is my cousin Keli's blog, and I've added it because she's family, and most of the readers of this blog are, I think, family, so what better way to stay in touch? But for the rest of you... Keli and Alex are a beautiful couple. They got married a little over a month ago. A few weeks later they relocated from New York to Singapore. The pictures so far are amazing. Check it out!

Act silly for the camera!

Andy in the Bounce House

He refused to come out. I had to climb in and drag him out.

In Training

Pre-K Graduation

Big Brother the Hero

He didn't get it from ME!

Today I went to the grocery store with the boys, where Nicholas asked me to buy him a pack of lip balms. Chapsticks. Specifically, skittles flavored lip smackers.

The conversation went something like this:

ME: No.

Nick: But I WANT THEM!

ME: No.

Nick: But Mohhhhhmmmmm!

ME: You don't need them and there's no way I'm paying for them. If you want to buy them -

Nick: I'll buy them.


When he turned five, I started giving Nick an allowance. The idea was to start giving him the freedom to buy a few of his own toys, to buy some of the junk kids want on his own, and to start getting an idea about how money works. To get his allowance, Nick needs to make his bed every morning, and to feed the dog at night. For these jobs, he gets a whopping $2 a week. (I know, slave labor, someone call child protective services.) The whole project was a bit thrown off when he got a much larger sum of cash for his birthday from his grandparents. He spent most of this money on Bakugan, and what remained was just enough to purchase the lip smackers he so coveted.

My thinking is that he'll spend enough money on trashy or stupid items to realize that they are stupid and trashy, and then he'll start making wiser purchases.

So he bought the lip smackers.

This afternoon we were outside, and Nicholas began complaining mightily. "I hate the outside!" he raged. "It's so hot, I can't stand it! And there are too many bugs! I hate bugs! I'm going inside to play with my make-up!"

Make-up.

Hence, the title of today's post.

Signed, the grown up who does not own foundation and still has the mascara she purchased in 2003.

Doomed

The other morning, after listening to the boys play more or less quietly for twenty minutes, I pulled myself out of bed and stepped into the hallway to find Andrew standing there, smiling at me. It actually took me a few moments to realize what was wrong. Andrew. Standing. Out of his crib.

Oh, bother.

The next few mornings were also quiet, but Andrew would stand and cry in his crib after nap, and I witnessed Nathan trying to "help" him by boosting him. So I decided that it probably required a collaborative effort at this stage.

And today, as I was sitting with Nathan at nap, which I am required to do if I expect him to fall asleep at all, we all heard a "Mama!" as Andrew burst into the room and launched himself at Nathan's bed.

What ensued was hilarity, at least according to Nick and Nate and Andrew. They laughed for twenty minutes as I kept returning Andy to his crib only to have him follow me into the boys room seconds later. I grew more and more frustrated. But there are more of them than there are of me.

Putting them to bed tonight seemed to go smoothly. Nick hadn't napped (he's five, what can you do?) so he fell asleep as I read bedtime books. I placed Andy in his crib and he stayed there, and Nathan babbled on and on. Fifteen minutes later I was speaking on the phone when Andrew simply walked in and climbed into my bed.

What followed was a true battle - Andrew screamed and kept climbing out of bed, and I kept walking in and tucking him back in, and Nathan provided background music and occasional commentary.

Eventually Andy went to sleep. But given his recent habit for waking up and screaming in the middle of the night, I expect to do battle again before dawn.

Oh, boy. Now I'm really in trouble.

UP!

Today I took Nicholas and Nathan to see the movie UP!

I thought it was a really good movie. I cried at the beginning, and also at the end. We saw it in 3D, and it was kinda cool.

But I must say 2 things:

1 - if you are in a group of more than 2 people, and you are going to see a movie and wish to sit together, please show up BEFORE the movie start time. Especially if there are kids with you. Especially if you then have to discuss the seating arrangements loudly and then discuss who gets to hold the nachos and versus who gets to hold the pretzels. It's annoying.

2 - Nick and Nate are extremely well behaved at the movies. Now, I know this isn't exactly like having a kid who can play a sonata or recite the constitution. And it would help if they could also behave at the dinner table. But... I was so proud. They sat quietly, watching the movie. They whispered their questions. They never once shouted anything out. Unlike the late-comers who sat their two children next to Nate, on the aisle. The boy was, unfortunately, also named Nathan. And he appeared older than Nick. But instead of sitting quietly, he turned to speak to his mother, who was sitting a row behind him, in a loud voice. "Mom, this is in 3D!" or "Mom, hold this!" And his mother actually reached over and spoke loudly a couple of times. "I'll take the rest of those!" Sheesh!

Andy Bouncing

He had a good time.

Balloon Fun

This is a "transformer balloon." It was a giraffe, a dinosaur, a hat, and finally a snake.

New Stuff

So the boys have been playing pretend a lot more, lately. The trouble is, they refuse to break character when I speak to them. They insist I call Andrew "Yoshi" at all times. And Nathan has developed the habit of pulling his pants down around his ankles for some unknown reason, and slowly making his way around the house, growling. "Nathan - " I'll start, but before I can say anything more he'll have cut in. "No! I'm the Underwear Guy!"

Graduation Day

Series of Unfortunate Events

This morning I was full of optimism and go-gettitness. School is over, and I have all three boys at home. Yet I was all set to Accomplish, and Do, and to smile and dance and whistle my way through it.

Before lunch I vacuumed the house, cleaned the bathrooms, mopped the kitchen floor, did a load of laundry and hung it out to dry. With the kids. I was superwoman!

And then the kids went down for a nap, and I decided to keep painting the garage - a project I'm about a third of the way through.

Last night, Puck got locked in there - apparently he hung out as I painted and didn't take the hint as I cleaned up, turned the lights off, and left the room. He peed in a trash can lid which was housing a couple of used ink cartridges - the kind you aren't supposed to throw away, but you can recycle if you take them to the post office. I don't know what to do with them once they're drenched in cat piss. I didn't even know how to start cleaning the mess. I just placed the whole thing in the corner of the deck so that I could rinse it all out when the boys were playing outside.

Puck also pooped in a handful of kitty litter which spilled out of a punctured bag. I found a second pool of pee on a bag of salt. Lovely, huh?

After nap, while I was folding laundry, Andy found the mop I had put out to dry - a new one I had used only once, to replace the old one which was covered in fluffy mold the last time I tried to use it. He then tried to mop up the cat pee from the lid of the trash can, which was sitting in the corner waiting for me to wash it out.

I attempted to transplant the tomato plants from the indoors to the vegetable patch. Andrew, for the first time in his life, didn't want to be out. But apparently he wanted to help plant the tomatoes, because half of them ended up hacked with a plastic shovel while my back was turned. When I went to fill the watering can to water the poor things, Andy had found a wad of chewing gum which had been warming in the sun, and had it sticking to both palms.

I burned supper because I was busy trying to clean out the mop. I gave the boys too much milk in their cups, and then Nathan accidentally knocked his over. Half of the milk ended up on the floor I had mopped earlier with my new mop now soaked in cat pee. The other half of the milk ended up in my lap.

And after dinner, Gunther re-mopped the entire section of the floor between the sink and the trash can with his tongue.

All things considered, I wonder why I try.

Strawberry Fields Forever

Today was the infamous Strawberry Festival that our town has yearly to raise money for the Library.

It's a good time - the kids get to bounce and climb on inflatable slides, there's a dunk tank with a schedule of "sitters" ranging from local politicians to school teachers, there are booths where kids can make bookmarks or do and art, the police and the fire departments park their vehicles and the kids can climb all over them. The community band plays their works, this year including the Star Wars theme, the Spiderman theme, and a suite from Mama Mia. Not to mention food and Strawberry Shortcakes!

And there's a raffle.

I purchased a number of raffle tickets because I want to support the library. Not because I thought I'd win anything.

But you know, we're lucky at raffles.

I went back this afternoon to pick up our basket of tub toys, musical instruments, and discounts to Kindermusic and a nearby toy store.

Really... I feel guilty when we win.

Waiting for That Straw...

Not only did Nicholas turn five last week, bringing him to an age that, in my own life, I can recall vivid details and events and even dreams from, and sending me into a whirlpool of nostalgia. Not only that, but school ended today, leaving me with all three boys and no school, camp, or even lessons planned for the summer.

Time to bring back those teaching skills.

Cranky Pants

Did I mention that Andy loves to play outside? He doesn't like to go back in.

And for the record, yes, he does own shirts. But for whatever reason they get removed frequently. (Usually a spill or an older brother turning on the hose when I said "Not Today!")

Hey, Good Lookin!

Andy's No Fool

The kids love the little plastic pool we have. Andy refuses to leave it. But he won't get in it, either.


To be fair, the water is well water. It comes from the ground, and it is numbingly cold.

Birthday Time!

Last Friday Nicholas had a birthday party. It was a movie night party, where we ordered pizza and turned on a movie on the big screen, and the kids watch quietly for twenty whole minutes before rushing off and pulling every single toy we own off the shelves.

I knew Nicholas was a popular name - so far every class Nick has been in has had at least one other Nick. When he introduces himself to adults, Nick will say "I'm Nick G. " Using the initial, G. The letter. Because that's how he differentiates himself . I always thought it was a little odd, but that he's get over it.

At his party, during all the chatter of kids with cupcakes and parents chatting, one kid yelled out "Hey! Nick G.'s Mom! Nick wants a juice box!" Everyone laughed, and Steve shouted back "Thanks Nick G.'s friend!" And it was kind of funny, I thought. Especially since Nick O. wasn't at the party.

But then, when Nick was opening gifts, every child pressed their little bodies close to his, shoving their gifts into his hands. "Nick G! Open mine! Nick G! Nick G! This one!"

And that's when I realized - THEY THINK THAT'S HIS NAME! NICKGEE!

Maybe we should have named him Hubert?

7 Year Itch

A little over a month ago, I got a really bad case of poison ivy. I still have scars from the blisters and patches of dry skin. Maybe they'll never completely fade.

The seven-year-itch can refer to scabies or eczema. But it also commonly refers to the seventh year of a marriage, when couples used to re-evaluate their relationship, and either cheat or split up. According to one Wiki-Answer, this occurs much earlier than 7 years these days. Apparently people either rush into marriage or don't value it as they used to. (Interesting, considering how hard some people are trying to keep others from doing it at all.)

June 1st marks a full 7 years of marriage for me and Steve. Not only did we make it through the new and improved 2-year itch point, but here we are at the full 7 years. We're still building a life together, we have a home, and three wonderful boys. We are still keeping the promise that we made to each other. I think that's something to celebrate. We are worth celebrating.

I love you, Steve! Happy Anniversary!

Five Already

When I was eight, and my sister Anne-E was five, I sang her a song about the things I did when I was five. (At eight I still didn't understand that musicals were not real, and that an orchestra wouldn't swell up and carry us away with music and magically rhymed lyrics. This discovery would be made later, and brought with it much heartbreak.) In my improvised musical monologue I mentioned reading, camping in the backyard, playing on the swings, and probably a number of other things I have forgotten with the passage of time. But at eight I remembered them, and missed them enough to feel rather nostalgic about them.


If only the eight-year-old me had had any idea how heartbreaking and nostalgic it is watching your own child turn five.



Happy Birthday, Nicholas. May your year be magical.

Brainwashed

We have a biting situation. I'm not saying who, but I'll just say that someone, a small someone, has been biting. We don't see it in action. We simply hear screams and crying and general fighting, and then later on two of the three boys will have oddly identical bite marks on their backs.

Tonight at bath I noticed bite marks and started doing my thing, chewing out the culprit and lecturing and beating my head against the tub wondering if my kids were EVER going to make it to adulthood... when Nicholas interrupted.

"Hey, Mom! Remember when Muno hit Plex in the head with a snowball?"

And I knew exactly what he was talking about.

Things I will Forget

Some things I know I'm going to forget to buy at the store tomorrow: pepper trash bags pull-ups bath soap for the boys bread pasta light bulbs cat litter juice boxes hard candy playing cards oxi-clean ant traps wasp spray granola bars...

I have to go make a better list now.

The Afterward

I was going to blog a post with the title: How To Sneak A 33-year-old Man Into Disneyworld. But I forgot to download the video Meg shot before she left. I'll have to work that one out later.

Winston and Meg came up for the weekend. It's always fun when they come up. Well, for me and the kids. I imagine that, for them, it's a bit boring. But they always get to play outside, and Winston hit a baseball around in our backyard, and it reminded me of when he was nine and did that kind of thing all the time. And then they cooked us dinner on the grill - chicken AND steak, AND guacamole AND margaritas AND awsome salads and green beans... and then we played some board games, which they purchased, and they were really fun - Apples to Apples is my new favorite game. And I still suck at Taboo, even though it's fun playing.

And then they left, later than they wanted to, I'm sure. And then I looked at my planner and saw how much was going on in the next couple of weeks - birthdays and class graduations and doctor's appointments... and now here I am, Memorial Day, sitting peacefully and awaiting the craziness to come.

By the way, everyone should come visit all the time, because we love it.

boys in boots

Lawn Care

Proof that we sometimes learn by watching.

Although Steve usually keeps his shirt ON.

Outside Time

Today is the first day we dragged out the kiddie pool and the sprinkler. Because I cut back all those prickly bushes, the blossoms on the trees are really overwhelming. A good breeze kept us cool and dried my laundry. Steve is cooking chicken on the grill. It was a marvelous day.


Yes, that's a hat on Nick's head.

Also, if you haven't checked out Larissa's blog in a while, please do. She has some really amazing and outstanding photographs of her trip to Africa that should not be missed.

Attitude

Reading Basics

The kindergarten entry process has made me think a lot about Nicholas and reading.

I remember learning to read. We rented an RV and drove to Canada for our summer vacation, and I spent most of the trip on the floor of the moving vehicle with McGuffey's Reader. Not because anyone was making me, but because I wanted to. I asked my parents for the sounds, but otherwise I taught myself to read. I don't remember struggling at all. I was four.

I really, really, really wish something like this would happen to Nick. Instead, I have been weeding out the super simple books, the ones with just a few words repeated over and over again, and trying to get him to read them to me, to sound out the words. The problem is, Nathan usually jumps in with the answer before I can coax Nick into saying... anything.

Nick knows his letters. He can even tell me the sounds each letter makes. But by the time we get through three different sounds he forgets what the first sound was, and even when he says all three sounds together (Duh, Ahh, Guh) he has a hard time making them into a word (DOG).

Yesterday night Nicholas cried as I tried to get him to read "What Does George Like." He sobbed. "But I can't read and I don't want to! You read it to me!" And I felt my whole soul deflate. A hard time reading means a hard time at school, and I'm failing, I'm failing at the first academic thing I ever have to introduce him to, something important, something he needs, and something that brings me great joy each day of my life. How could this be?

So I made a deal with him. "I'll read it first, and then you can read it to me right after, OK?" The book is only six pages long. Each page has four words. And he did fine. He wasn't reading the words, saying "likes to ride a bike" instead of "likes riding a bike" and things like that. But the point is, HE DID IT.

And more importantly, at lunch he announced that HE would be reading "What Does George Like?" before nap. And he did. And he did it again tonight at bedtime. And each time he's getting more and more confident, and happier with the idea of picking up a book.

Favorite Subject

Today at dinner, Nicholas told us his favorite part of school was playing outside. He also liked doing puzzles. His least favorite subject was circle time. It's hard to sit and listen and not talk, guess. I know he has a hard time paying attention. All I could think of, though, was that this does not bode well for kindergarten.

Nathan then pitched in and told us that his favorite part of school was snack time. Especially when the have "ice crispies and bananas."

Why am I not surprised?

Sunrise, Sunset

I'm taking new pictures of the boys. I just need to take more and then get them off my camera. Until then, more Florida photos.

In the meantime I'll just say that Nicholas has had his kindergarten "screening." They meet with each child to ensure than the classrooms are balanced. But since I wasn't in the room I have no idea how he actually DID. And he is being a bit less than forthcoming.

And so begins two decades of parental badgering.

A Different World

OK, actually, it's the same world... but... do I really need to explain?

Disorientation

I just got back from the Kindergarten Orientation.

I know, I know, school doesn't start until September. But trust me, all the orientations and meetings and testing is being done NOW.

It was scary. And very informative and enlightening and in many ways reassuring. I am now much more confident that there will actually BE a classroom for my child. I know he will have teachers, and I've met them, although I won't know which one until later this summer. I learned what they will be looking for in his screening test on Saturday, and how important (or not) it will be in the long run.

But he's going to be overwhelmed and shell shocked.

Up until now, all of the academics have been secondary to his emotional and social development. But in September he will have to get on a bus BY HIMSELF or else I will drive him to school and he will get out of the car BY HIMSELF, with me still IN THE CAR, and I am supposed to just DRIVE AWAY... And he will spend 2 hours and thirty minutes shaping letters out of sticks and clay, learning how to write each letter "the right way" which means every line has to be written in the right direction, reading books and discussing vocabulary and actually READING different words on his own, not to mention doing graphs and charts and collecting data and learning to count by fives or by twos... every second filled with something, every moment focused, and then he'll be bringing work HOME. HOMEWORK! IN KINDERGARTEN!

Which is actually cool, because it would be nice to see what's going on at school so we can help him out. And it's good to know that this school actually HAS a program, a curriculum, and isn't just making it up.

But it's also scary. Because there's a lot of information he's going to have to learn. There's a lot of paying attention. There's... so much.

Green Foot... AGAIN

This year I gave myself the lofty goal of planting a vegetable garden. Not a huge vegetable garden, mind you. I'm not much of a gardener, so I only planted a couple of things. A few flowers (I know they aren't vegetables, but they're pretty), some tomatoes, and some beans. I pictured myself picking beans and tomatoes from neat rows of plants and setting them on the table for my family. Somehow this pleased me. It just seemed RIGHT.

Well, I planted the seeds. A couple of weeks ago. As directed on the packages. And so far... nothing. Well, the tomatoes have sprouted... something. I planted them indoors, as directed. It looks like three of the twenty four plants took. Which doesn't mean they'll live.

I ran out to check on the beans when I got back from Florida, expecting little green sprouts in the rows I planted them in. Instead the ground was bare. Only a few blades of grass and a leafy weed I know is not a bean (or a flower, for that matter) peeped through the rocky soil... until I saw a couple of beans sitting there, just on top of the dirt, little sprouts peeping out.

Now, I planted these things at least two inches down. I think what happened was that it rained, and the dirt washed away, and a lot of the beans washed away. I looked at the rock border, and it's almost buried in dirt. When I weeded, I took away the structure holding the dirt in place.

So now what's going to happen is that I'll get a nice, thick patch of beans mixed with flowers RIGHT at the FOOT of the back porch stairs, and the vegetable patch will be bare.

Why can't I just live on flat earth?

Back, and Better than ever!

I'm back!

I had a wonderful time in Daytona Beach. There was sun, there was surf, there was steak... what more could a girl possibly ask for? I should probably mention the fact that I neglected to sleep in at all. I just got too excited about walking on the beach and seeing everybody.

But I was glad to get home. I missed my boys, all of them.

And guess what else is back?

The whole time I was in Daytona my legs were itching me, and I assumed that I had bug bites. Funny - that's what thought the FIRST time I got poison ivy. Not that I spent any time around the plants. I figure that I must have stepped in it that day I was out there in my flip flops - all seven minutes of it. And I wore my flip flops to Orlando. On the plane. I have a nice run of the rash riiiight where I scratch my calf with the toe of my shoe. Jamie was right! I shouldn't have scratched.

But this time it's not as bad. For one thing, I'm not worried about looking decent for a wedding. That time has past. Also, it's a lot less painful (so far) and not oozing at all (yet).

Please don't stop reading just because I'm gross.

Mother's Day

One of the cool things about blogger is that it allows you to pre-post blog posts. I am writing this on Thursday, but plan for it to be published the night before Mother's Day. Because on Mother's Day, I will be in FLORIDA.

WITHOUT MY KIDS.

The only time I've ever left my kids was to go to the hospital to have another kid. Unless you count the time I went to Tennessee to see my Aunt Frances in the hospital, but I don't because that was not what you'd call a vacation. So you see, I feel a little odd.

It's not that I'm not looking forward to my time off. Because I am. And it's not that I don't think they'll be fine. Because they will. (At least I'm pretty sure they will.) I guess I'm just really aware of how much they are going to miss me. There will be tears. I'm sure.

But mostly I know that I will miss them ten times more.

Nathan Is Funny

Tractor Ride

We have a large lawn, which we mow with a rider mower. When Steve mows, he gives the boys tractor rides on the mower (not while the mower is on.) The boys love the mower, and are more than a little excited by the John Deer logo.

You never know how a kid will react to actually riding on a tractor. Nick gets nervous, but he loves it. Nathan, our louder and more daring child, acts excited, but gets too nervous to ever actually get on. He shakes and then changes his mind. I expected Andy to start to cry once we got near the thing. After all, it is pretty loud. But Andy let me pass him over to his dad with no problem. In fact, the first thing he did was reach for the steering wheel. During the whole ride around the house he kept trying to drive, something neither of the other boys have ever done.

Go figure.

Kindergarten Cop

Yesterday Evening there was a Welcome Party for next fall's kindergarten class. It was special, because this is the Very First kindergarten class the school has Ever had. Every child was invited, along with parents, to come and listen to a band play some songs and to be introduced to the teachers, and manybe meet some classmates.

It was a great idea. The only issue was... well, the huge gym full of four and five-year-olds. The band started playing, and right away kids started "dancing." In all of it's many forms. A few families in the front paid attention to the band, which was actually a great group of three white haired gentlemen in tie-dyed T's. But most of the other parents were chatting about kids, about the school, etc. Nick and a few boys from his class at school were running back and forth doing some version of tag/dance/karate. This took up the entire length of the gym. Meanwhile, a group of ten or twelve girls wearing pretty dresses were all holding hands and slowly walking around the perimiter of the gigantic room.

I looked around and started getting nervous. There were so many kids. The teachers all seemed realy nice. I just... I worry about Nick fitting in socially. His kindergarted won't have a recess time, so he won't get play time with other kids. Meanwhile, there are so many. He left his school frends and just started running around the room again and again. When the band stopped he stood there across the crowded room looking lost and confused until he saw me waving.

I thought about how nervous he must be, going to a new school, having to make new friends, being resposible for learning things... If I am nervous for him, I thought, he must be terrified of all the unknowns out there.

As we were walking back to the car he held my hand. "Did you have fun?" I asked. He nodded. But he was being very quiet. Then, finally, he said "Mom, can I ask a question?"

"Of course!" I almost shouted. "You can ask me anything!" I was sure he would start opening up and I was all ready to reassure him about school. I looked at him, all geared up. Would he ask about friends? Teachers? Circle time? Reading? What would it be?

"Mom, when we get our next car, can it be a Subaru?"

Yeah... so maybe I AM more worried than he is.

Fashion Sense

I should have known better than to think a child of mine would have any instinct at all for fashion. I am very picky about what I will wear, choosing mostly solid or muted colors to avoid clashing, and avoiding anything too trendy. I usually love what people give me, but I don't like buying anything that might look foolish or be too risky, or that I might inadvertently pair with something inappropriate. This means I tend not to replace my favorites too much. I will wear the same four t-shirts and same three pairs of pants until they wear out, and then it will take me months to find a suitable replacement.

I have a closet full of clothes, I just can't seem to ever wear them.

My boys have definitely ideas about what they would like to wear. PJ's with boots. Shorts with sweaters. I tend to let them wear whatever they want, thinking that I really don't know much more about fashion than they do. And it makes getting dressed a lot easier, most of the time. Now that I have switched to summer clothes in the drawers, they insist on wearing shorts and flip flops even when it's barely fifty degrees out. And when it's eighty, I have to convince them that they do not need to wear the heavy winter coats I have yet to wash and put away.

Today

Today was overcast, but mild enough to go out without a sweatshirt. I took the boys to school. I did the laundry and dried it outdoors. I did everything I set out to do. My poison ivy has stopped itching and is getting better. I spent time outdoors with the boys - time actually with them, not working in the yard while they played. The dandelions are taking over, and some of them have poofed, and Nick and Nate blew the white puffs into the breeze while Andy scrunched his lips and shoved the flower in my direction.

It was so wonderful.

So many things are happening soon. On Friday I leave for my cousin's wedding. My sister Emily is graduating from LAW school. And there's Nick's birthday, and parent-teacher conferences... but before that, there is tomorrow. And tomorrow, Linda is having surgery. It's really all I can think about right now. Linda means a lot to me. Her voice is one of the voices I hear guiding me, giving me advice and telling me what I should do when I have trouble figuring it out on my own. I wish her the best, and a speedy recovery.

Flea Market

Yesterday Steve and Lillian took the boys to a flea market. I am, for the most part, a supporter of flea markets and yard sales and second-hand stores. After all, it's the most basic form of recycling, right? Reuse items that can be reused instead of throwing them away. The only problem is, I spend most of my time trying to find ways to wade through the junk we already have. The last time we went to this particular flea market, Steve purchased a stuffed monkey in a space suit that shook and said a few phrases which were funny the first time I heard them.

The boys came back with armloads of 'new' toys. A stuffed Elmo (we only had three), a toy phone (we only had 36), a toy I know we already had two of because they came in a Burger King Kid's Meal, and a loud beeping talking robot. Steve was excited about the robot, which he acquired for only a dollar. The robot says "I am VoiceBot, your robot warrior. What is your command?" And ths boys shout a command, such as "Shoot Missles" or "Transform!" and the robot says "Please repeat command." And the boys shout "Transform!" and the robot says "Please repaet command." And this can go back and forth a few hundred times before the robot FREAKS OUT and beeps and blinks and honks and needs to be turned off so it will shut up. Sometimes the robot will actually move forward a few inches, and Nate can turn it into something that I think is supposed to be a vehicle. The boys LOVE the robot. "Isn't it great?" they kept asking me.

I guess I didn't act thrilled enough, because Nicholas finally came up to me and said "Mom, it's not just a transformer, it's a Robot Lawyer!"

Warrior, Lawyer.... I'm thinking a robot Lawyer might not be such a bad deal.

May Day

I haven't been as faithful about posting as I have been in the past. Those of you that have ever given blogging a try know how hard it can be to come up with words for a post every day, or even every other day. And some days I just don't know what to say without complaining or repeating myself or sounding trite.

The truth is, a lot has been going on. Just not with me. With my faithful readers. My friends and my family. And their stories are not mine to talk about, even though I may think about them constantly.

So I write about what's going on. I have poison ivy. It sucks. It's gross. Next week I'm going to Florida for a wedding and I can't go dress shopping because my arm is leaking goo, and I don't have anything that doesn't make me look like a burn victim. And it's a little bit of a problem, because I don't think I can carry off full length gloves. But at the end of the day, I HAVE A RASH! Compared to what most of my readers are going through, it's as normal and everyday as not liking peas or stubbing my toe, and I wouldn't post about THOSE. I mean, I don't have cancer. I'm not about to have an operation. I haven't broken any bones. I have not had to be rushed to the hospital, nor have I had to care for anyone who has been. I am still living with my husband. I have not gotten pregnant. I haven't gotten married. I'm not about to graduate from law school. I am not even going on an African Safari, thank you very much. So what, exactly, do I have to say?

Well, I think what I want to say is that I am grateful for the things that I have, and that I think of everyone often. And I hope that everyone knows it.