Documents and Care

I'm here. Actually, I've been in the basement, sorting papers, looking for birth certificates. But nobody was willing to drop food and coffee down the stairs, so I had to come back up. Found one. Have two official copies ordered. No clue where the second one may be.

I plan to look into the mail order bride thing and see if there isn't someone who would be willing to come just as a personal assistant and doesn't really require marriage. That might be handy.

I called my doc to see if I could get in to see her this week, rather than waiting until the 20th. My thought was that I'd like to be proactive about the stone the u/s found in my kidney. The conversation was a bit odd. She started off by telling me that everything looked absolutely perfect. No problems at all.

*blink* What about the kidney stone?

What stone? What tests did you have done?

We sorted that out. She called the lab, which hadn't faxed the results of the bone density or the u/s back yet. Then she called me back.
**************************
Nurse: There is no stone. You're perfectly healthy. You don't need to come in.

Me: Well, what's that large mass in my kidney?

Nurse: That's just a calcium deposit. It's nothing you need to worry about.

Me: What's the difference between a stone and a calcium deposit?

Nurse: Well, it's not a stone. Really, this is nothing to worry about, at all.

Me: So a calcium deposit of that size won't impair renal function?

Nurse: Not yet.

Me: *I am screaming in my head, but not on the phone.* Well, won't it have to come out, at some point?

Nurse: I don't know why you're upsetting yourself over this. It's nothing. I've spoken with the doctor about this, and it is absolutely nothing. You just have that. And a simple cyst.

Me: *thinking I do not want to look up "kidney" and "cyst" on Google...* A what? A cyst? On my kidney?

Nurse: Yes. It's nothing. You don't need to come in earlier than your appointment. *tsk* Honestly *deep exhalation* Where ARE you getting your information from?

Me: So what does The Doctor say might be causing my pain, since absolutely everything else looks completely healthy and clear?

Nurse: Oh, we don't know what that could be.

Me: You don't think it could be that, um, calcium deposit?

Nurse: No. Not at all.

Me: You know, that's fantastic news. But, uh, I think I'd like to talk to Dr. D about all this, anyway. You know, just to make sure we're all on the same page.
*************************

So, I go in Thursday, but the nurse isn't happy about it. And I'm trying to figure out the best way to get a copy of the u/s to take to someone else. Because if I have a long-lost twin living in my kidney, I'd like to know.

And the best I can figure, a 1cm "calcium deposit" sounds an awful lot like something more than nothing. I know I'm not a doctor, or even a radiologist. But I also know that anything that large that shows up that clearly from *inside* an organ that ought not have solid things lodged in it probably isn't "nothing".

I'm not worked up, but I am also not feeling overly confident in my current doctor, who is, to be perfectly honest, probably busy being torqued that my bone density test didn't come back with full-blown osteoporosis. Because that means her argument that I am - quite obviously - an osseous sponge (because I nurse my babies longer than six months - her words) just might not be exactly it.

And that's... about it, this week. Documents and Care. I need more time playing with the kids. They're a lot more interesting and a whole lot more fun.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Mornin'

Ah, this was, perhaps, an overly productive weekend. It hurts. I'm glad it's Monday, and we can get back to shredding papers and digging around for important documents. Oh, wait, I did that this weekend, too. Well, that's okay. Gotta get it done. (In the meantime, I did post finished photos of the Weekend Warrior project from this weekend. They're at the bottom of the page.)

We had lunch with the pastor and his family after church on Sunday. It was very nice, and the kids had a fantastic time. Zorak and I felt horribly awkward, but that's pretty normal. It's us, not them. We aren't quiet, demure, well-appointed homes kind of folks. Put us in a quiet, demure, well-appointed home, and we both feel like we just tried to crash a party at the wrong home. Like we're the only ones wearing togas.

In trying to locate the boys' birth certificates, I have now filled four 13-gal trash cans with shredded paper to be composted. Thrown away just as much trash. Absolutely stuffed the filing cabinet with things-to-keep-but-not-what-we-needed. And there is nary a birth certificate in sight. WHERE did we hide them? I'd already ordered a new one for John, but now it's looking like I'll need to order one for Smidge, as well, and I don't think they're going to make it in time. Gah. I'm asking Santa for a Personal Secretary for Christmas.

Meanwhile, it's supposed to be 72 degrees today! We're going to get out and roam about a bit. That's always good for the spirit.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

The End of Season Party

We made it. On time, even. Yay, us! The baseball cupcakes were a big hit.

Turns out, they don't photograph well. We ran out of red part of the way through decorating (I know, I know! I thought I had two tubes!), and had to hit three different stores to find more. What we found was a different brand, and had a softer, shinier texture to it. I don't like the way it makes the short stitches. But the kids didn't seem to mind, so that was nice.

In lieu of pouring something wet and sticky on the coach, the coach's wife bought silly string for the kids to douse him with. He took it with such good humor, and, as you can see, the kids absolutely loved it!

Jase hung out a little, passed a lot of gas, and then passed out cold for one of the moms on the team. He was so relaxed, and so deeply asleep, we began to wonder if he'd been drugged...

But, no. He awoke shortly and finished the afternoon playing peek-a-boo with the boys on the team. (Eight year old kids are so cool, you know that? Even they can't resist the lure of making a baby smile. Stuff like that rejuvenates my hope for mankind. It really does.)

And hey, the lumber for the balcony is *scheduled for delivery*!! Tomorrow! It's paid for. They know where we live, and what we need. Wee-ha, it's coming together!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

At The End of the Day

The game tonight was a real nail biter. (Finger biter. Whatever works.)

The kids played hard, and they played well. In the end, they took second in the Eastern Division Regional Championship. That's a mouthful, isn't it? Can't complain. Not one bit. This was truly a season well-played, and that little medal was earned with a lot of hard work and team effort.
But this is why he'll be playing again in summer league, and again next year -- there are no sour grapes, no bad attitudes, and no losers on this team...
Well played, boys. Well played!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Two Down...

Smidge's team finished tournament play yesterday. They ended the season undefeated, and then took the tournament in a wobbly, distracted, four-year-old sweep of some sort. I'm not sure how it happened. He is convinced the guy on top of the trophy is him, specifically. And, of course, they got nax, which he shared with his friend, Emma (another sideline sibling, whose brother is on John's team). He's already excited about next year, and machine pitch, and playing with his friends again.

James' team lost last night, which puts them third in the league tournament. That's not a bad showing for such a young team (meaning most of the players are first years in this league). We're mostly just relieved that the season is over. It was a good season and a good experience for him -- he had fantastic coaches, a good team, and wonderful opportunities. But he didn't get out of it all that he could -- namely because he didn't put into it all that he could. Funny how that works, isn't it? One day, that'll "click", and it will make a world of difference for him. And that's okay. We'll keep modeling the philosophy, guiding him along the way, and encouraging him to do his best, no matter what he's involved in. (Well, as long as he's not making meth...)

John's team, however, is still in it. They won their five o'clock game last night, so they played again at seven. They won that one. Zorak stopped on his way back from James' game and picked up pizzas for the kids. He figured if they won, it would be a good way to celebrate. If they lost, it would be a good way to soften the blow. Zorak is so cool like that. He remembers what it's like to be nine, or seven, or four. He's got this Dad thing down pat.

Tonight, John's team plays the Falkville team. These kids are tough, but then, from what we've heard when the coaches open their mouths, they have to be. We may not be undefeated in the regular season, but I wouldn't trade a perfect score for the way the Falkville coaches treat their kids (LB - this is the team we heard getting a "pep talk" while you were here!) If John's team can beat them, twice, they'll be the champions. Truthfully, if we can keep the boys from mentally rolling over the minute they see the other team's jerseys, I think they have an excellent chance. These little guys have a lot of heart. Regardless, it was a great season for John's team. And it was fun for us, too. The bleachers aren't terribly uncomfortable when you're watching a child who wants to be there, and is doing what he loves.

I'd like to say this is it. I'd like to say that now we drink lemonade and do commercial-style summery things. But we don't. John's got his eye on second base for next year, and pitching for the following year. There's a clinic that starts Monday, which he is dying to go to. And then, summer ball. That's okay. I can take my lemonade to the ball park and put my chair under a tree. That's summery, right?

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Um... no.

We are just slightly to the right of the red stuff north of the I-65 sign in this picture. Yet, the baseball reps are refusing to cancel John's game tonight. (Supposed to start in one hour - do *you* see a clear spot coming in behind that in the next hour?)

It's been raining steadily since yesterday afternoon, folks! No other teams in the league are playing tonight, and we cannot figure out why on earth they won't cancel this one. However, we just had thunder that shook the entire house... I haven't seen lightning yet, but that doesn't mean I won't.

No, we're not going. Don't care if it's a tournament. Don't care if it's a "big game". This is a lesson in prioritizing. And, from the looks of it, making sure the flashlights all have good batteries!

***UPDATED***
They cancelled the game at the eleventh hour. If we'd planned to go, we'd have already been on the road to get there. *whew* Good call, refs! Good call! ;-)

G'night! Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Score!

The ultimate cake to take to the end-of-season game? Baseball cupcakes!

1. Make cupcakes.

2. Make white icing (powdered sugar, lard, butter flavoring, and a titch of salt). Make it a little thin, with just a bit of meringue powder. This way, it will go on the cupcakes easily, self-level to a smooth, uniform surface, then harden in place. Voila!

3. Use red icing, and a small, round tip to pipe on the stitching - two half-circle lines opposite one another for the seams, like looking at the top of a baseball. Then pipe a series of short "stitches" going across the red half-circles.

4. For a real thrill -- complete with the kind of leaping up and down and spontaneous leg-hugging you get only from excited four-year-olds -- individualize the cupcakes with the kids' jersey numbers. (But be sure to take extras that look *exactly* the same, sans jersey number, for siblings - no matter how cool your other cupcakes look, they will pale in comparison and go untouched.)

So. Easy. Especially if you have either a) help, or b) a press-style decorator. The bag works beautifully, but unless you have calloused tendons from years of cake decorating already, the cramping starts in around the sixth cupcake.

By the twelfth cupcake, I began to appreciate child slave labor.

By the end of two dozen, my hands were shaking so badly, I was certain I'd developed a sudden-onset form of Parkinson's.

Oh, and #5 - take pictures *before* you leave for the party. The cupcakes won't last long enough to get a single shot once you arrive.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

It's FRIDAY

I have no idea why I'm so excited about that! I don't work outside the home. I don't get the weekend off. It must be some residual Pavlovian training.

Smidge has a team party today. He's thrilled. I'm panicky. I'd offered to make the cake, but then never got any further information from the coach's wife. Yeah, I'm good like that. So, as soon as the boys are done getting their room picked up, we're off for more powdered sugar and some beer.

Oh, speaking of alcohol in a dry county in the Bible belt... Y'all remember my last awkward t-shirt moment? Well, folks, I did it again. Smidge had the last game of the regular season. We had a Very Busy day, what with all of whatever we did on Tuesday. (I don't remember, but I do remember being rather harried and working outside.) John had a game at the same time, another field. We did the ol' one-two, slow-down-and-kick-'em-off-at-the-field drop. (I like to pretend they're paratroopers and I'm the cool Army pilot.)

Got to Smidge's field, dropped everything I had in my hands (including the carseat with Jason in it - but he's just a paratrooper-in-training, so he only had to drop three inches - but still, that was probably enough), and plopped down in my seat just as one of the other moms said, "Been one of those days?"

"Yeah," I mumbled, as I looked down, only to realize that the "rodeo" t-shirt I'd put on for yard work was still my main attire. And, if you've ever been to a rodeo in the West, you know they're all sponsored by (say it with me!) COORS! Yeah, that's me - the frantic woman in the alcoholic beverage shirt at the youth activity. If you're ever down this way, I'll be easy to spot, so you can come say hi, or give me a wide berth. I'd understand, either way.

In relating the story to Zorak later that night, he pointed out that you don't usually get COORS this far east. That made me feel better, until I saw that the folks who printed the shirt must have had that in mind, because they made a point of writing, in block letters, "BEER" across the bottom of the picture. Oh, well. Anybody who'll be that offended by something like this would probably be even more offended by getting to know us better, anyway. So it's a good thing. I'll think of it as a friend-filtering device. If you take yourself *that* seriously, you don't want to know us better.

Oh, my. And then, to highlight the point. EmBaby is having animal crackers in milk for breakfast. She wanted them cracked. So while I'm cracking the little animal crackers into her precious little bowl, she's singing me a song, "You're crapping the animal crackers. Crapping the crackers. You're crapping the animal crackers, just for me!" And I'm trying very, very hard not to laugh like a 12 year-old boy. Some of the precious toddler words, I will miss - words like "kingcummer" for cucumber, "weepoh" for Webelos, "cammer" for camera, and "plantit" for planet. Those are so very precious and endearing. But I think it'll be a good thing when she gets a handle on the whole "ck" ending sound. A good thing, indeed.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

More?

Oh, man. Nobody warned us that Brindlee Mtn. is WAY. THE. HECK. OUT. THERE. Or, that it's atop an actual mountain. (I didn't know we even had mountains around here!) It took longer to get to James' game last night than it takes Zorak to get to work in the mornings! AND, since it was way the heck UP there, as well, although it was 81 at our place, it certainly wasn't 81 up there. We froze. We also didn't get home until ten.

The kids played hard last night. The final score was 23-4. I hate games like that, even when we're the ones with 23 runs (and we aren't always - our kids have had their share of spankings this season, as well). There are 11 other children who played hard, stayed up late, and still felt the disappointment of getting spanked on the field. We much prefer a close, well-matched game, for overall enjoyment factor. The team our guys played, though, had some players with serious heart. One kid got "cleated" - our guy slid into the base just as their guy reached down with the ball and, *ka-pow* cleats to the back of the hand. Yeouch. I can't believe he shook it off and stayed on the field! I'd have spent the rest of the game at the snack shack, trying to get free sno-cones "for my hand".

Gotta call the dentist today. Last night one of my crowns fell prey to a killer grilled cheese sandwich. *sigh* Go figure, it's the one I paid almost $2000 for in Arizona. The one I paid $350 for in Mexico is still standing strong. Gah, I'm so over the dental issues.

Today, also, we've got to straighten the wall in the barn garden, and finish baiting the fire ant mounds. Thrills-a-minute this week, folks! Just wait til Thursday, when we sort underwear drawers! You won't believe what wild and crazy guys we are!

Ok, ok, now I'm just getting silly. I'm going to go. You have a great day. I'll post pictures tonight, or something. To make up for the lousy posting this week. Honest. :-)

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

HI!

Well, yesterday ganged up on me. (If one thing can be said to "gang up", that is.) Everything was going fine until we had an impromptu water-rescue, and that, while it turned out nicely, threw the entire rest of the day into utter chaos. There's just something about having to rip open a box of nursing pads in the checkout line and inconspicuously trying to stuff a couple in while letting your 7yo hold the screaming, hungry baby because you didn't grab a decent nursing shirt, and you can't get home to change (again) if that one gets soaked and you're already running very-very late for something you *swore* you'd be on time for... So, um, let's just say that we called it a successful day when, at the end, nobody was seriously injured or missing, and everybody knew they were loved. That's all it takes to make it a great day, right? (Sometimes, yes.) And to be honest, my 7yo ROCKS. That kid is awesome in a crisis! Wow.

Today? Much better. James and John had games out of town, thankfully both at the same field in the same town (woohoo! yes, it's the small things) so Zorak took them. Smidge had a game in town, so I took him, Em and JasonBaby... yeah, I'm thinkin' his morning went a bit more smoothly than mine. All three boys won their games. But more to the point, all three boys "showed up" for their games, and played well. They felt good, and rightly so. We came home, grilled kabobs, played in the dirt and the grass, and crashed hard at the end of the day.

Zorak and I watched Shaun of the Dead and laughed ourselves silly. I know, it seems weird to laugh at at zombie movie. But what can I say? Well, not much. We are weird, and it was funny. And I'm still giggling.

Then we realized it's been raining for a while, and gee, that lightning seems awfully frequent, and hey - whaddya say we check the weather channel? So, in case you're thinking of calling tomorrow - yes, there were tornadoes, yes, we're okay, and um, no, we didn't go to the basement because by the time we realized there were warnings and watches and alerts galore, they were almost expired. What's the sense in waking everybody at one in the morning, anyway? And it's not like we'd go down there without them! So, the family that's oblivious together... yeah...

So what about you guys? Having a good weekend? Tomorrow is Mother's Day! I'm getting a concrete pier and some extra lovin's. Probably will make pancakes since a little bribery never hurts. Do you know what you're getting/giving/doing for Mother's Day?

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Outings

(Heh. Had to type that title three times. I kept typing "poutings".)

So, Zorak and I have initiated Project Forward Motion. There's too much that needs to be done aside from the balcony. The balcony is not being as cooperative as it ought to have been, and so, not much else has been done. That needs to stop. The lower meadow and barn areas look like staging for Jurassic Park. The garden beds are more like low-budget miniatures for the aerial scenes. Ew.

The kids and I put the bumper buddy on the Suburban and headed down to the local feed shop. I love this place. Their prices are reasonable. Their staff is helpful. They have fantastic wooden chairs and benches out front. And they have moonpies, which, rumor has it, if the kids ingest enough of those before they turn 18, will bestow upon the children magic "from here" status. Yesiree, gotta love the local feed shop.

We bought five fly strips (I know, ew, but the flies have been horrible this week, and if we've got to look at them, we'd rather they be imobile), some grass seed (in bulk, how cool do I feel now? To keep the clover at bay near the house so James doesn't puff up like a bloodshot Michelin Man), three bales of wheat straw (for mulch), a gazillion packets of seeds for the salad bed (plus sunflowers for the sunflower house, and a stray packet of random flowers because Smidge said he wanted to grow them for me, and that just totally melted my little stressed-out, grinch-like heart). Oh, and I reserved a watering trough. Heh. Now I feel very cool, indeed. Of course, it's mostly just for washing the dog, right now. But someday we'll have something that will want to drink out of it, and then we'll have it.

We came home, mowed the upper meadow, weeded the salad bed, and then headed out to the fields. James had practice. Smidge had a game. I skipped James' practice in order to watch Smidge's game. Oh, how *cute* are 20 four-year-olds scampering around after the World's Slowest Moving Ball? Throw in the little matching outfits, and it's like watching dress rehearsals for a Dick Van Dyke musical. Simply fantastic. Another win. More nax. Then we hung out at the park for half an hour and let them run in circles and use their outside voices.

John, who is tumbling headlong into Young Man-Hood, leapt from the car before I had the keys out, and worked on the upper meadow some more. Wow. That lawnmower is still almost as big as he is, and yet he gets on it and gets the job done. Zorak made awesome salmon patties, and then we all crashed. Hard. As a matter of fact, the typos are only getting worse and more difficult to spot, so I'm going to stop now. But thank you for your encouraging words this morning. I can't tell you how glad I am to know that 1) the kids won't remember, 2) I'm not the only one, 3) this, too, shall pass. You're the best, you know that?

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

*whine* I am SO bad at this.

I need a personal assistant.

I managed to remember that James had an impromptu batting practice last night. Yay.

Unfortunately, it looks like I *forgot* that John and Smidge both had games... last night.

*sigh* I am such a loser. Who thought I could do this job, anyway? Seriously. I'm pretty sure anybody who knows me well knows I'm not capable of doing this thing well...

My poor kids.

Smidge's First T-Ball Game

Well, according to him, the highlights were as follows:

We got NAX!

Ours team did WON!

Did you see my NAX?!

He made several good hits, and stayed on top of things... for the most part...

There was a small wardrobe malfunction at one point...
But in the end, it was all good. HOME! SCORE!
And did I mention they had snacks after the game? Yup. This is the big times, and he is on top of the world.

Sadly, I ended up missing the whole game. EmBaby was napping, so Zorak took the boys. She had just awoken and we were going to head out, when Zorak called to say John's practice wasn't a practice, it was a game. He needed his uniform! (That meant I needed to find all the parts to his uniform. Next year, I want the uniforms to be glow-in-the-dark shirts and pants, with blinking belts.) We got John his uniform and just as we pulled out to head to Smidge's game, Zorak called to say it was over. *sigh* This is when I think there could be advantages to time travel, astral projection, or good, old-fashioned cloning. (joking! I'm joking!) However, Smidge was so excited to have the snacks, the win, and the promise of future games, that he forgave me for missing his Very First Game. Ah, we're so blessed! I get to make it up to him on Tuesday.

Good stuff, this.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy

From the Bleachers

I do love my second born. Honestly, I do. So why are there so seldom pictures of him here lately? Well, you see, he's seven, and a natural-born comic (or, he fancies that he is). Loosely translated, this means he is incapable of allowing the click of the shutter to pass without widening his eyes, flaring his nostrils, sticking his head waaaaay out in front of his body, and baring his teeth in a Dracula-like stance. He's a handsome young man, but Adonis, himself, wouldn't pass for photogenic with such a pose. And so, I am left to take pictures of him when he isn't looking... those turn out nicely.


... if a bit solemn. Which is ironic, considering my reason for sneaking up behind him to snap photographs in the first place.

And then there is Smidge, who is now Quite Serious, since he is now a Ball Player. So, we must pose. We must contemplate. We must get right up there in Mom's face to make sure she can see just how Very Serious we are...


(Ah, those eyes. I get absolutely lost in those magical, twinkling eyes.)

But don't let his solemnity fool you. It's not all tough practice and serious hardball around here...


The games are fun to watch, and we're proud of the great kids on all the teams, but the action in the bleachers is where the real fun begins most of the time. I think there's more activity there than on the field. So, while one child and his teammates are out there learning to pay attention, work together, and hone new skills on the field, the siblings are busy doing new things in their own realm, too. Sometimes they're learning to be encouraging, or to learn by watching. But there's more to it than that...

Whether it's the pack of two-year-olds who are content to do laps around the trash cans (do you remember the caucus race from Alice in Wonderland -- Backward, forward, outward, inward/ Bottom to the top/ Never a beginning,/ There can never be a stop -- I sing that in my head everytime they get started)...

or the herd of four-year-olds running back and forth, looking for a little more independence, more room to roam, more autonomy without sacrificing the security of being able to pop back in for a hug and a snuggle every now and then...

or the older kids comparing anecdotes and jokes, critiquing the game, heading off to the water fountain or the snack shack on their own...

it's fun to watch them stretch their little metaphorical wings just a little bit more each year, and to see them get aloft and enjoy the flight.

They'll stretch their wings fully one day, and soar off, and not return to stay... that day will come all too soon for us, although just at the right time for them. I hope I don't miss any opportunity to watch these little practice flights, though, in the meantime.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Yay!

James' game is a home game. Smidge's practice is at the same field. It's supposed to be 75 today, and already it's beautiful out.

I am so thankful. :-)

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Encounters with the Outside World.

Found another great online book site via the WTM boards yesterday. Printed off a short story by P.G. Wodehouse, and enjoyed a lovely evening curled up in bed to read. After the day I had yesterday, this was just what the doctor ordered. Enjoy!
Classic Reader

Yesterday at the ball field was miserable. It was only 43 degrees when we got there, with winds 12-16mph. Zorak is TDY this week, so it's just me and the little guys. Otherwise, I'd have stayed home with the three smallest! I tried to stay in the snack shack with the littles, but got tired of being the only adult in a room full of unwatched children. You know, parents might want to touch base with their little girls, and keep an idea of what's going on. Too much unsupervised down-time with other kids is one time-honored way for good kids to find the wrong path, and boy are those paths abundant and appealing when you're 12 years old, no matter how bright, sweet, and smart you are. They're still just kids, and they're pretty susceptible to visits from the Bad Idea Fairy. *sigh*

One little boy in particular, though, just about found himself yanked up by the nape of his neck and hung from the coat rack. He walked in and immediately began interrupting our conversations to interject ugly things about random children, kicked his sister repeatedly (and I mean *kicked* - he wasn't playing, he was out to hurt her, and when she tried to walk away, he'd follow her and trip her), and rounded the whole performance off by swearing at anyone who would listen, complaining about his horrible mother and how, "The woman won't give me another freakin' dollar!" He started there, and ramped up to the Big Words in no time. James' game had already begun, but John and Smidge were with me, and they were just floored by the way this kid behaved.

I'll admit it, I stepped in. The interrupting, I could handle. He's five. Kids interrupt and need gentle reminders that it's not okay. So, I gently reminded. It didn't do much good, but I kept reminding and he did eventually wait for me to stop talking before he mouthed off. It was the kicking that put me over the edge, though, and I told him in no uncertain terms that it was not okay, that I have a serious problem with it, and that he had to stop. right. now. or get out. He left for a little, then came back in and began the swearing session. At least he kept his feet to himself. After only two minutes of the swearing, though, I had to say something, again. And again, when he sassed back. "The swearing isn't going to help you get what you want, you're smart enough to think of other ways to express your displeasure, and the rest of us do not need to be held captive by this venom. Period. Come on, kiddo, you can do better. I believe in you. Give it a try." He did finally realize a few things: I'm serious, I'm not backing down, I won't be cowed by a five-year-old child, and I'm right. He stopped! Glory, hallelujah! His sister's eyes were enormous, and her mouth hung open as she stood there, watching the exchange. Gah, does nobody tell this child "no"? He's still little. He doesn't have to be a bully or a demon-kid. There's a sweet little boy under all that ugly crust. But you know, by that point I was just raw around the edges and it was clear that I wouldn't be able to keep an eye on Smidge and Em and keep Jason comforted, while trying to prevent the inmates from setting the asylum on fire. So we went out into the cold. Yuck. When James' game ended, I told John's coach that I couldn't hang with the big dogs anymore and had to leave early. He was good about it.

We came home, had banana bread and hot chocolate, and the kids were very helpful in getting everybody rounded up and into bed. John helped Smidge with his toothbrushing. Smidge let him. WOOHOO! James read bedtime stories to Emily. He fell for the "one more story" fillibuster several times, then bolted down the hallway, panting, "I had to run before she could ask for one more!" They make me laugh. Jason, bless him, went to sleep at ten and stayed asleep until four, and I took full advantage of that little reprieve to get some rest, myself!

We have to be there again today. This time, I'm taking the sleeping bag, a thermos of hot chocolate, a big batch of these awesome turnovers from Chris' blog, and plenty of things for the kids to do. We'll take Set and Quiddler, some crayons and activity books, some stories, and some drawing pads. It'll be okay. And it'll be available to anyone who wants to join us. It's all good. I was just caught off-guard yesterday. But that's okay. We all learn as we go, right?

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Sugar Daddy!

Well, that was awkward. I didn't mean to publish this post without any words!

What I *meant* to add to the title and the picture is this:

Give me a Sugar Daddy (the candy - the tooth-removing, plaque-causing, hard-caramel-on-a-stick, not some wealthy guy with a penchant for spoiled females), a sleeping bag, and a sibling to share the body heat, and we can handle any chilly, early-morning game the league wants to throw at us! Batter up!

Actually watching the game, however... Well, that's best left to the grown-ups. There's too much else to see.

"OK, you watch that side. I'll watch this side. Let me know if anything interesting happens!"

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

We Made It!

Another Thursday and no blood, no lost children, no foul. WOOHOO! But first, gratuitous JT photo:
Piano went well. I did notice today that John doesn't play as fluidly for his teacher as he does at home. He seems much more timid and cautious. The entire time we're there, he is quiet and reserved. I spoke with his teacher about this, and we are hoping that as he gets more comfortable with her, he'll find that groove. I hope that's all it is. James, who is completely in his element with music and with this teacher, had a fabulous time, got extra work, and would. not. stop. talking. He was begging for new chords and more music even as I shoved him out the door. (I wasn't being curt, it's just that Zorak was already at the car with Em and Smidge.) Once we leave the studio, however, both boys instantly revert to their feral, squirrel-like state and start goofing with each other all the way back to the car. They are such a funny pair, those two.

Then it was on to the baseball games. It seems James has a "fail-proof" batting strategy he's decided to employ. I was unaware of it, but Zorak filled me in during the game. The discussion went something like this:

Me: (watching James at bat) His elbows aren't up.
Zorak: He's not going to swing.
Me: Well, *snort* yeah, he can't from that position.
Zorak: (totally deadpanning it, for my benefit) That is his position.
Me: What? Why isn't he-- (ball whizzes by, James leans waaayyyy back, doesn't swing) What was that?
Zorak: Told you he wouldn't swing.
Me: How'd you know? (ball whizzes by, James leans waaayyy back, doesn't swing) Well, if he'd put his ELBOWS up...
Zorak: Statistically speaking, the odds of a 10-year-old, first-time pitcher getting the ball within the strike zone are much lower than James' odds of making a hit when he swings. So.
Me: Are you making this up?
Zorak: (shooting me a look that says, "you know the stuff he makes up is far stranger than anything *I* make up") No. But he did. If he just doesn't swing, he won't strike out because there'll be enough balls that they'll walk him. (ball whizzes past... again)
Me: Really? And his coach is okay with this?
Zorak: No. But (ball whizzes past, James gets to walk to first base)... evidently, James doesn't realize that yet.
Me: I can't believe it worked.
Zorak: Creepy, huh?
Me: Yeah...

James' team won. That makes it a little more challenging to point out that perhaps James might want to change his strategy... but we'll work on it.

John's team took quite a spanking tonight, but it was a fantastic game. John's team gave it a good shot, and they've improved quite a bit this season. However, the team they played truly had their act together. I can't believe the difference in the level of play, the competence of the players, (the attention spans of the players!) between last year's 5-6 year-olds and this year's teams of 7-8 year-olds. Wow! John's getting the feel of strategy, making a play, and working together. It. Is. So. Fun.

Really, it's all good stuff. This is why we just puckered up a bit, but went through with this Spring's schedule. Both of the older boys are learning new skills, both within their comfort zones and without those zones. They're really able to work and grow on their own merits, in different ways. Good stuff, this. This is why I whine *here* about Thursdays, instead of to the kids.

They both missed Scouts, since James' game didn't end until 7:30, and John's didn't start until 7:00. But I think it was a fine day, in general, and we'll be able to catch up on Scout stuff this week, in time for the Pack meeting next week. So, all-in-all, WOOHOO!

Ok, I've pushed my envelope, and JT has realized I'm not back there. Time to go!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Thursday, again?

Wasn't it just Thursday, only a few days ago? Well, *sigh* that's okay. It's 8:30. I've got laundry going, dishwasher running, kids have hot chocolate, and banana bread is queued up to be made. (I'm not being Donna Reed. It's just that with J's evening exile and that whole nursing-coma thing, all my evening chores are now morning chores. I awake to a trashed kitchen, dirty dishes, scrubby dining table, no clean socks, and no coffee. Gah. It's a good thing I'm a morning person. Or that I can fake it.)

Smidge is working in his new activity book (thanks, Jess! The kids loved the box, and it was a Life Saver Extraordinaire at practice yesterday!) John is, ostensibly, looking for his Scout handbook, although he's been back there for a while, and I suspect he got distracted by the gears the kids left out last night. Em, James and BabyJ are all still sound asleep.

We've got a busy day (yes, I know, morning blogging = to-do lists. Y'all must be thrilled with the immense joy of reading this blog at times like this!) We've got to refill the bird feeder, because we have ravenous birds who evidently refuse to forage on their own and are now perching ON the porch, yelling at me through the open door. Considering I'm just a wee bit terrified of birds, I'm not sure why I thought it would be neat to encourage them to hang around. (Oh, yes, I do. The boys love watching them, and I would raise cockroaches for domestication if one of my children really wanted to do it. I'm a sucker, and I know it.) But now, I'd really like for the wee pterodactyls to back off my porch. I've watched Alfred Hitchcock movies. I know this won't go well for us when they turn...

We've got piano. James is taking off with his lessons, flying through books and impressing the snot out of his teacher. John, well, not so much. He's enjoying it, but not really excelling at it the way James is. He learns differently, he processes differently. He also clutches up when his brother gets near him while he's practicing. So when his teacher asked me what's up with him, I could only smile sheepishly and explain that my genetic input surfaces in strange ways... poor kid. I've been trying to give John more time without James hovering and making him twitchy. It would be easier if Thursdays didn't come every three or four days, though, don't you think? ;-) (Lie to me, if you must, but tell me the days will slow back down again at some point.)

Two games. I have no idea where one of them is going to be played. Guess I ought to find that out, huh?

Den meeting. Sweet reprieve, I can be home with the small ones for that. Ahhhh.

Oh, and then, because sometimes I'm really quite bad at being the Grown Up, I have to go to the DMV and get our tags. Yeah, since I didn't realize they expired the end of March. (And to be honest, I wasn't paying attention to much of anything the last couple weeks of March.) So, as I pointed out to the boys, this is what happens when you don't pay attention! Lesson learned the hard way. I'm a dork.

OK, they've all awoken now and seem to be hungry or something... better get going on that Grown Up Thing. :-)

Kiss those babies!

~Dy

Random Thoughts

- We got the game schedules for two of the boys... and in spite of how much I've enjoyed *not* running around, I am really looking forward to making it to their games.

- Six o'clock is way too early to have to be on the road for an 8:30 appointment... but it's worth it for a good pediatrician.

- I keep getting spam in my inbox, offering me "guaranteed quantities of viagra"... Considering we've had five children in nine years, is this really a concern for us?

- You might be tempted to argue with Mom's counting... But you really can't argue with a metronome.

- I *heart* the metronome!

- There is nothing cuter than a four-year-old in his first baseball uniform... except, perhaps, pictures of a four-year-old in his first baseball uniform. But I was too busy oogling him and squeezing him and watching him beam with pride. Sorry.

- Waiting to see if your fifth child is going to be the fifth one to have colick, too, is like waiting for the other shoe to drop... when you wear anvils for shoes.

- Good friends... are really good.

- Nice weather... is always appreciated.

-

- It's a good life.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy