Don't You Dare

 

Make the first words out of your mouth when you see me at the end of the day for the first time, "What's for dinner?"

 

Unless you have consulted the oracle there and can affirm a positive answer to each of these questions.

 

I am not a servant.  We are a family.

 

Ah, Nicholas

 

You did a little too well when I told you to pose for your mug shot.

 

 

But you couldn't stop laughing during the side pose.

 

 

 

And then you are just charming when you bring home books from the library that have recipes, and you ask me if we can make them together.

 

Of course we can, any and every time for as long as I can.



This was a great idea

A bunk bed nook in the hotel room for the children, with a television mounted there. 

Harry Potter, snacks and weary eyes from a day swimming.

Perfection.

Then it came time for bed, and I shared with two while two slept in the top bunk. 

No one would touch the bottom bunk.

I Still Love Watching People Watching Us

I went to show the woman the receipt to prove we paid for these as we walked out of the store. 

With a smile: "Oh Dear, I've been watching.  We all know you paid for these."

And in another effort to recreate my own childhood, I tell the boys: "Go away.  Get on your new bikes and go away.  Go to the park.  You can handle this, can't you?"

And they are coaxed out of the house and on to the bikes.  The huge world in front of them, permission to cross that big street and go to the park, the forest, wherever their little legs take them.

Failure: They return after half a hour, with full tales of their adventures. Super excited, and back within 30 minutes.

Weren't they supposed to go away for hours?

Heaving a Heavy Sigh

Seemingly normal wall.

Excep,t see that spot directly between the thermostat and the outlet?

Too small?

Let me zoom in.

And I'll show you a Stuber game--it's called Number Search.

Yes, Nicholas wrote numbers randomly all over the walls of my house, then sent the others out to find them in order.



Boys Will Be Boys

Everything: Target brands, Children's Place, Levis, even  Carhart.

None survived a season of seven-year-old wrath in the knees.

Even the pajamas.

Thankfully, shorts season is getting pretty close around here.

I Never Know What I'll Find Next

 Nothing could go wrong here.

Nothing at all.

Aging Gracefully

Co-worker: "Oh, I see you got some highlights.  They look nice!"

Me: "Um, no.  Those are my grey hairs."

Saturdays

When the sun comes up, we begin fresh.

When the sun goes down, we leave a mess

Tangled

The plastic trailing out behind her headband, which I had to tape on there after she came up with the idea but it just wouldn't stick is her Rapunzel hair. It would help if she would just stop clopping big chunks of hair off of her head. While a little trim seems to stimulate a little growth, Elaine just can't keep herself from taking big chunks out of her hair with the scissors. She currently looks like she stuck her head in the lawnmower.

Then, she just puts plastic on her head and flies away in a cardboard airplane.

Oh, to be four.

We Will Laugh, Some Day

As I tried to figure out how to use our printer/scanner to sign and send a new house document last night, Benjamin stood close dismantling my every effort by pushing every button on the thing. Elaine was in her room crying crocodile tears, naked because she couldn't figure out how to put on the Tinker Bell dress. Downstairs, and thankfully mostly out of earshot, I heard the wails of Alida as she fought with Nicholas. They would have to wait.

I called Patric, cell phone in one hand, beating Ben back from the computer with the other. In the middle of my fussing, I noticed out the window that two police cars with lights were racing down our street. No. They were stopping in front of our house. I was relaying this all to Patric when I realized that they were very seriously assessing our yard. No. They were very seriously approaching our front door.

Bother.

I hung up and went downstairs. Nicholas beat me to the front door from out of nowhere, and I shoved him behind me to see one officer standing back and ready. Then this exchange.

"There was a 911 call from this house with screaming in the background."
Another officer made his presence known by coming out from behind a tree.
I looked down, "Nicho.."
Nicholas had already hid his face in my leg and started clinging.
"Please come in."
"Who's in the house, ma'am?"
"Me and four children." (What great grammar lady, way to impress them.)
Then two more officers appeared. I opened the door wide.
One disappeared to the back of the downstairs immediately. The most gigantic, seven-foot one stood and took up our entire living room.
It crossed my mind very briefly to ask if he was in the market to buy a house, and then another asked me who was upstairs.
"My girl and my boy."
Up he went.
Officer four went to the garage.
"Nicholas? Did you call 911?"
"Yes." Barely audible.
"I'm so sorry. They have been learning about 911 at school..."

And so that is how my non-actress Alida set to screaming at Nicholas for not letting her have the phone at just the moment that he hit send on his 9-1-1 call.

Wacky Wednesday

As I put polka-dot tights under a striped dress and striped tights under the pajamas above and dug out the mis-matched shoes this morning, Elaine says:

"No mommy, I don't want to be all Wacky. Just the red Dorothy shoes with my tights. And I don't want my dress all backward."

Of course, because the rest of you isn't wacky girl.

Nicholas says: "No thanks mommy. I don't want my clothes on backward."

Benjamin would have worn whatever we put on him in whatever way we put it on him as long as we were the ones putting it on him.

Happy Birthday Dr. Seuss.

My children are naturally wacky contrary to their own opinions of themselves.

And btw, have you tried to go back and read The Fox In Sox lately?

Makes me feel as grumpy as the poor guy being messed with in that book.

Sometimes

They surprise me.

And break out into a world of peace right near bedtime.

And just as I'm getting all into the Music Meister version of Batman and maybe even halfway enjoying it,

I'll look over and see someone picking their nose.

Love/Hate

They LOVE Play-doh.

I hate Play doh.

But I love it at the same time because after we all fight over the one pair of Play doh scissors we have, this will usually keep them entertained for 20 minutes or so. That is an enternity on a Saturday afternoon.

The Saturday Inning: Day of Reckoning

I cannot remember the last Saturday that we have not got in the car and gone somewhere. But that's what we did this past weekend. We stayed home all day long. And I let the television take care of them. And I opened the back door for them to come and go. And I went upstairs and I went through all of the crap piece by piece. Every single McDonalds toy is gone. Every single scrap of paper that Nicholas has tucked away is gone. Some old toys that no one ever played with are gone. A full bottle of Vaseline that I bought before we had the boys because some list said we had to have Vaseline is gone. I washed sheets. I threw open windows. I actually enjoy these days as long as I can get a little peace to get it done.

That's probably why I am proud to say I did not loose my mind when I found this.

What? You can't see what I'm talking about?

Here, maybe this will help. Three pails full of sand brought in for play by Elaine. The best part was that we had pancakes for breakfast--with syrup--which I hadn't gotten around to cleaning yet. The coffee table looked like a gigantic glue and glitter craft project gone horribly wrong.

Thank you Uncle Brian for helping us build the sandbox.

I am currently plotting my revenge.

Blissfully Unaware

At 8:15 last night I put you to bed and tucked you in, and and we said prayers and gave kisses after reading two books.

And then I walked out the door and locked it from the outside behind me. Oh, yes I did. I had to actually rearrange doorknobs in my house last night to accomplish this. No one will be locking themselves in the bathroom around our place either--it's a win-win.

At 10:00 I went back in and you had turned on the lamp, put all of the books from the shelves on your beds so there was no place to sleep and you were laughing and playing. This was better than the hour and a half of fighting the night before. So, I took away the lamp, cleared your beds, put you back in, and locked the door behind me.

The picture above is how I found you this morning. I have no idea if you ever went to sleep. I'm not sure I even care because I did go to sleep, and it was wonderful.

Eight and a Quarter Inches

Did I hear someone say that on the radio this morning, as in that's how much rain we've had?

Anonymous Joyce, I'm not worried about the aquifer.

I have replaced the step stools I had there for the boys to wash their hands with two-tier stools so the girls can reach the faucet. My back is killing me from the repeated calls to come help them wash their hands. Really. How do you scold your child so as to tell them not to wash their hands so much?

The Definition of Stupidity

Fresh peaches from the side of the road and a recipe from Nancy that includes a gingersnap cookie crust.

Top it with sugary goodness.

And watch the table clear.

That's not even Alida; that's Elaine.

And she asked for more ketchup.

Patric did not even make it through his 3 desserts I served him.

Now, if I want to clear the table at the end of a meal, bring out dessert.

If I keep trying to give the dessert and actually expect them to stay and eat it, I have the definition of stupidity.

Chokit Milk Is Her Name

That's my girl Alida, don't let a dress hinder your comfort.

When Aunt Lori got us the yellow dress with the pink accent, I'm pretty sure she intended it for Elaine, since there was a lovely halter dress in all yellow in the package as well for, we're assuming, Alida. It would go with our general dressing scheme: Some pink=Elaine; Anything else goes=Alida. What a fabulous find to get a yellow dress with a touch of pink.

But then they went and started showing a preference for things. And I think Elaine is sick of pink.

This morning Elaine would have nothing to do with pink. Since we were headed to church where they get a nifty sticker with their picture and name, no big deal. Church doesn't even really know the pink rule.

Nicholas doesn't even know the pink rule either.
Mostly I just get, "Mommy. Is this Lie-la?"
To Benjamin, they are both "baby."
To Aunt Cynthia, Alida wears pink because of the "i" in each word. (I know Elaine has an 'i' as well, but it doesn't SOUND like an 'i'. You see? So then she has to mentally flip what she intuitively thinks is right each time she sees them together. And that makes me tired.)
To their dad, they are both "baby girl."



To me, well we've spent many a weekend glued together now. I have them on sight.

So if you're ever wondering now days, don't count on the color because Alida chose the pink shirt this morning and I'm not going to battle it.

Just ask them if they want apple juice or chocolate milk.

Because Apple Juice=Elaine

and Chokit Milk=Alida

At least that is how it will go for awhile anyway.

If You Can't Beat Monsoon Season,

JOIN IT.