No Fear

It's a good thing they're cute.

Tomorrow's schedule:

8:30AM (AM?!?! *whimper*) - James to the field 10 miles west of us for a 9:00 game

9:00AM (SO not much better than 8:30...) - John to the field 15 miles east of us for a 9:30 game

10:00AM (WHY, rec. association? WHY? Do you people not sleep in?) - Smidge has practice at a different field, but at the same park at James' game

Heh. I get to stay home and labor.

Somehow, I think I'm getting off easy. (Although I do hate missing the kids' games. This will be James' first game, ever. *sniff*)

Fortunately, John's going to get a ride in with one of his team mates. It's really nice to have lived here long enough that we know the other families. It's also really nice of them to call and offer to haul our children, in addition to their own, to the games. It's... well, I'm feeling very blessed about our Forever Home Community right now. We're gathering Our People. People are getting to know us, and to like us, and to look out for us. You can't legislate that kind of community. You have to build it.

So, hideously early timeframe aside, Zorak just has to hold the fort between Smidge and EmBaby (oh, I hope he plans to take EmBaby...) while James' game gets started.

John had a tournament game tonight. James had practice. Smidge was pretty upset to discover he'd been left behind. Well, he'd been sleeping. You couldn't have paid one of us to wake him up to haul him around for that!

Same progress on the labor. Consistent, small contractions. All. Day. Long. Five to seven minutes apart, but still not long. Nothing beyond uncomfortable and irritating. By the time this thing kicks off, we're probably (hopefully?) looking at 30 minutes, tops. Boy, wouldn't that be fantastic?

The boys' uniforms are in the dryer, and I'm going to go wrestle my body pillow from Zorak and catch some shuteye!

Kiss those babies!

~Dy

What Is This Beauty?

I thought last year it was apple, because of the blossoms. But then, that's why I have to post here for help. Obviously, I don't know an apple blossom from a horse apple. Soooo... Help me out, here.

This is the tree. I circled it in red, and marked the 3' height on the cedar stave in the fence beside it, just to give you an idea of how Eiffel Tower-ish this thing is. I imagine it's either something that grows wild, or, if it's a domesticated plant, it's been neglected for a long, long time. It does bear fruit - there was some left on it from last year's late frost - but I didn't get a good photo of those. (Click on the photo to see a larger image.)

The bark is tight - would this be called "tight scales"?

The leaves - oh, look at that vibrant green of new leaves! They grow in clusters, as you can see here...

And these are the blossoms. Such a brilliant white, and in large clusters of many blooms. They're not terribly hardy, and when the wind kicks up, it looks like it's snowing.

So, fellow readers, any ideas what this tree may be?

I think this is going to be another long one.

My initial post was that "nothing is happening," and that's how it feels. I slept a good part of the day. I wandered from room to room, looking for something to read, to eat, to do... nothing looks interesting. Very restless. But then Zorak asked me to let him know so we could time contractions.

Huh. Whaddya know? They're very regular, 7-10 minutes apart. They're just short in duration. This means two things: it's gonna be a while, and at least they're probably semi-productive. (Wee!) From what I can remember of EmBaby's birth, there was only about 30 minutes of active pushing (although I'd have sworn at the time that it was hours! LOL!)

So. I found a mystery plant and got pictures. I'm going to edit them and beg y'all to help us identify the mystery tree. :-) And then, perhaps we'll watch a movie. Zorak made cookie bars. I'll probably eat the rest of those.

Oh, funny. I just went back to read Em's story, and read this:

I'm anxious for things to pick up the pace a bit. Threw in some laundry, snacked on breakfast leftovers... roaming around looking for something to do. I might go down to the basement and see if I can find a book I haven't read yet (you'd think, considering 3/4 of what we own is books, that wouldn't be a difficult task, eh?)

Sound familiar? Heh. At least this time, all our books are upstairs and I don't have any walls to texture. Pretty cushy, if you ask me.

Thank you for your prayers and cheerleading and general sweet, encouraging words. I really do have the best blog community in the world, you know that?

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

GAH!

Well, I slept soundly enough, for which I am thankful. But this morning, things are... still moving... slowly...

This could end up being an irritating few days. At least on my end. ;-) Zorak is home, and that is a great comfort to me. Not that I worry about suddenly being disabled by pitocin-like contractions, stuck at the barn or under a persimmon tree. He's just comforting and soothing to me, and makes me feel that, no matter what comes (or how long it takes...) it'll be okay.

Our pear tree is in bloom. So are two other unidentified fruit-ish looking trees. We found the other apple tree, which doesn't look as degenrate as the first one, and Zorak says he remembers picking an apple from it the first time we looked at the Forever Home. Too bad we couldn't find it back when we were pruning, but maybe it's not too late to nudge it along this year?

I'm going go hike the property and take pictures. Maybe that'll move things along? And if not, we can play a few more rounds of Lazy Man's Plant Identification Guide! (I love playing that - you all are so helpful and share such interesting tidbits!)

At least it's not dull to be in labor in the springtime in the South!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

And So It Begins...

Well, folks, it looks like we'll have a new "finished project" to blog sometime this weekend. I was sure hoping to hold out 'til Friday, but it doesn't look like that's going to happen. (Part of me thinks it would be really nice, because there is still SO MUCH TO DO, but the cramping and the ache in my back has me thinking we really need to hurry this up and get it over with! Yeouch, I. Am. Such. A. Wuss.)

Fortunately, we slogged through the Health Department's self-perpetuating onslaught and got our Verification of Pregnancy affidavit this afternoon (required to obtain a birth certificate in the State of Alabama). Hopefully, we won't have much trouble getting a birth certificate or SS# this time around! But man, oh, man, getting out of there without signing up for WIC, Medicaid, Food Stamps... I don't know how many times I had to repeat, "No, we just want a verification of pregnancy letter. That is all I want, and I only want that because of this state's legislation. We neither qualify for, nor desire, enrollment in any of these programs, thank you." James beat me to the punch and said it for me at one point. He was respectful to the nurse, but I think he was surprised by how incredibly pushy they were down there. (Although probably not as surprised as every employee there, who kept up the sales pitch and simply couldn't understand *why* we wouldn't want to sign up for their "free" services.) The funniest part was that they actually made me take a u/a to verify pregnancy. The most exhausting part was that it took an HOUR to get out of there.

We stopped at Sonic and bought three bags of ice. I don't have to leave the house for a week, now! WOOHOO!

We bought groceries for Easter supper (which, if you're planning to come, will be prepared entirely by Zorak this year - thankfully, he loves to cook, and he's good at it!) And my sweet Zorak asked me to pick up some Anaheim chiles and jack cheese. Guess who's gettin' rellenos again! SCORE! I feel so LOVED! (I am so loved.)

Meanwhile, Zorak's been doing a little nesting of his own. The fence pickets are all up now, and it looks spectacular. All we're missing is the front gate and the stain. Talk about exciting stuff!

I'm gonna go beg one last back rub and lay down for a bit. As much as I'd love to blog this, I'm really hoping and praying we aren't looking at another two and a half day labor! (Not that I don't love y'all, but a girl can only take so much of this stuff. *grin*) However, I'll check in later, anyway.

Can't wait to kiss my baby!
~Dy

Woops.

I had a sweet, poignant post all made up in my head, but it has a picture that needed to go with it. I just spent ten minutes looking for the camera so I could upload it and regale you with Smidge's utter Cuteness on the field today... turns out, it's still in the car. And it's dark out there. And to be honest, I get all stiff and hobbly when I walk. So that's just going to have to wait for tomorrow.

We picked up the dog. He's lost weight and he smells like the mudholes elk rut in. It's disgusting. But he's otherwise just fine, and was very happy to see his children. He even shed all over the car on the ride home, just to share his joy with us. The car now smells like something died in it, right after servicing the herd. *shudder* This wasn't the best trip for the ol' pregnant olfactory functions.

The retrieving of the dog pretty much threw the rest of my nicely laid plans right out the window, and we spent the rest of the morning playing with him (mostly in the form of trying to keep him downwind from us while still being affectionate), airing out the car, and then... off to the fields. Tonight was a snap - two practices, same park, same start time. WOOHOO! I could go year-round if it was always like that!

EmBaby has been out of diapers for three days. She's still striking out on the Big Jobs, but for your basic functions, she's 100% dry. Even after naptime. Even at the ball field. (And you'll be glad to know I'm keeping in shape by making the trek to and from the bathrooms every twenty minutes. Considering it takes us five to get there, five to get back, and five to hang out and touch. every. single. thing. in the stall, that gives me a five minute rest between laps! Not a bad cardio plan, really.) And the best part is that it's of her own volition! I just ask if she's still dry, give her a High-Five for being dry, and call it good. Success. Can't ask for an easier job than that!

The balcony project still has not begun. The pickets we thought we could use on the front panels of the fence, we can't. Rats. The fence is still lingering, waiting for a row of pickets before we can move on to the balcony. Everything else is done on it, though, and it's really nice! The wire is strung along the back, stretched nice and tight. The Plan for the backyard is starting to take shape, too, now that we have visible parameters. Just as I lamented that we're three weeks behind schedule, a friend suggested I look at it more positively. She said we aren't three weeks behind, we're "a full week ahead of being a month late". Well, heh, when you put it that way, right... (well, actually, when you put it that way, I have to wonder if she's been into the rum. But she makes me smile, and she's wonderfully supportive, and I'd share my rum with her, any day.)

Our addition of typing and piano to the curriculum is a huge hit so far. That's my happy spot for right now: the children's sweet smiles, total enthusiasm, and warm hugs. Happy Spot, indeed. And now, it's a little late, so I'm going to meander back to my other Happy Spot and drift off to dream of dogs in baseball suits chasing children through open fences while some lopsided freak plays piano tunes on the balcony-o-death. Er, something like that. (Sometimes it's best that we don't always remember our dreams.)

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

How ya doin?

Me? Well, it seems I've gone mildly insane the past couple of days. Just when I was beginning to worry that this might necessitate medication (or, preferably for all involved, forced isolation and a regular supply of crushed ice), Erin mentioned that this might possibly be "nesting". These are the symptoms:

* Irrationally irate response to clutter in any form.
* Sudden desire to sort every. piece. of. clothing. we. own.
* Absolute inability to think about things like "preparing food" when there is cleaning to be done.
* Delusional fantasies that involve me wanting to do things like help stretch fencing and pour concrete... yeah, now. Riiiight.

Oh. That nesting.

Yeah.

I'm really, really hoping to go this weekend. Friday would be nice. Not that we have a say in these things, really, but that would give me a couple more days to finish terrorizing everyone in the house with my Susan Powder-meets-Martha Stewart tirades, and one more Thursday to tweak how that day goes, and then we have a nice, long three-day weekend with Zorak, anyway.

My family is probably praying I'll go into labor tonight and just end the roller coaster ride. I wouldn't put it past them to spike my Cherry Lemon Sun Drop with castor oil, just to buffer the odds.

The stoopid dog jumped the fence earlier in the week, and I've got to say that while I've worried about him, I haven't missed him. At all. The kids have. I think Zorak has. I was kind of hoping someone would just fall in love with his furry little ears and big brown eyes and KEEP HIM. But no, we got a call this morning from a gentleman who has him. So as soon as I post this, we're going to load up and go retrieve the non-repentant little Prodigal and bring him home. But seriously, what am I going to do with an 80-pound fence jumper? Oh, I know, keep him and love him and keep working with him on it. I know. It's good.

See, we're not that weird!

I just checked Amazon to see if they have the inflatable aquarium pool we love so much for birthing in, and they do. But not only that, the bundle "offer" that came up with it was this:

Better Together

Buy this item with Spiritual Midwifery by Ina May Gaskin today!

So obviously it's a pretty popular birthing purchase. That made me laugh.
Nice to know we're not "entirely" weird! :-D
Kiss those babies!
~Dy

A Joke From James

What would the Seven Dwarfs sing on their way to work in today's world?

IO, IO, it's off to work we go!

(When he first told me this joke, I thought he was saying, "I owe", which I've heard before, but then he smiled his impish smile and said, "You know, binary, ones and zeroes?" Oh! Gah, who wakes up thinking these things up? He always makes me smile.)

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

A New Thursday Plan

Traditionally, our school week has run Mondays through Thursdays, year-round, with Fridays off for errands, appointments, and hanging out with Dad. After today, I realized that is not going to work this year. For some reason, the planets, stars and traffic lights have all aligned to make Thursdays our new Activity Days. (If I didn't know I'd be getting out of it here in a couple of weeks, I might have a more colorful moniker for it, but we'll use this. For now. Zorak may voluntarily rename it himself after the baby is born.)

The two big boys have piano on Thursdays. This made sense to me when I scheduled their lessons, as it requires a drive into town and we could hit the market on the way home. It wouldn't interfere with Zorak's alternate days off, or with any spontaneous long weekend plans we might want to make. Boy, did I feel smart! (S-M-R-T...)

But then, I'd forgotten about Scouts. The boys' pack meets Thursday evenings. Well, okay, I thought, that's not too bad. It still gives us most of the afternoon to finish up projects and lessons, and we can still have supper together as a family before they have to go.

But THEN (and all you well-seasoned baseball families started laughing at me two paragraphs ago, didn't you?) I'd forgotten about baseball. Specifically, about how three teams' worth of children might muddy the scheduling waters.

As it turns out, two out of three have practices Every. Stinkin'. Thursday. Smidge probably will, too. I'll find out more on Monday. I'm afraid to find out more.

My beautifully orchestrated Thursday brainchild has suddenly morphed into scheduling hell, erm, "Activity Thursdays". We have to be somewhere, or en route to somewhere, from one in the afternoon until NINE THIRTY at night! Kill me now. Please.

The boys handled the stress quite well today. I am beyond proud of them. EmBaby held it together very well, also. Can't complain about the success of our indoctrination plan: "Flexibility, Grace, and A Can-Do Teamwork Attitude" (or, as I call it in my lesser moments, "Just work with me here, will ya?") By six o'clock, though, I knew something would have give.

*cue drum roll* *angels sing* *light shines in a very conspicuous manner from above*

What we have here is another beautiful point for the Homeschooling Flexibility Plan (HFP). For the rest of Spring Term (and possibly Every Spring Term Hereafter), we'll implement the HFP. We'll now have school on alternate Fridays, with Thursdays reserved for Music, PE, and Group Study. Yay. (I was going to say "Thursdays off", but Zorak pointed out that it's not like we're all sitting around on beanbags, eatin' Cheetos, watchin' TV. Yet another reason I love this man.)

We'll spend Thursday mornings in preparation for the Activity Gauntlet, instead. My hope is that by enacting the HFP, we can attempt to make at least 80% of our obligations under the following conditions:
1. Nobody's out of breath from bolting across three parking lots.
2. Nobody's crying because Mommy lost it and threatened to move to The Mosquito Coast.
3. Nobody has to starve during one of the many Long Periods At The Field.
4. We don't go broke at the Snack Shack in order to meet condition #3.
5. All gear is, if not actually ON the correct child, as least IN the correct vehicle.
6. We can come out of the season without major scarring, an automobile accident, or having left someone at home (at piano, at Scouts, etc.) inadvertently.

If we can keep our focus on the fact that each of the activities they're in, when taken separately (and preferably on different days), are high-quality, life-enriching activities, each chosen for a clear purpose and in order to provide specific benefits, and that all of the above activities are those which the children enjoy and from which they learn a great deal... (breathe in, breathe out)... then I think we're all good.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

No matter how you look at it,

It's no fun to be sick.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Quick Update

Em's napping and the boys are supposed to be reading quietly in their room. I've got to wake her here in a bit and throw the two Littles in the tub, so I'm taking a water break and trying to bolster myself for the Rest Of The Day. We have to be at the field at four, and won't be done til eight, so I figured I'd blog now because I don't think I'll have time to blog tonight.

Forever Home Update:
We're about two weeks behind on the big projects. What's coming along, however, is coming along nicely. I think the only thing we won't get to by Zorak's birthday is installing the new kitchen window. That's okay, though. It'll come.

I was mistaken when I said the creek "nearly" overflowed its banks the other day. It did flow over - straight over the driveway! Washed away eight inches of top soil/gravel and two rows of cinder blocks! It nearly dislodged the railroad timbers that form the skeletal structure of the drive over the culvert. YIKES! We've got to do some major shoring up of the drive or we'll find ourselves having to park at the courthouse and hoofing it two miles to the house. ;-)

Zorak's picking up t-posts and a driver this afternoon, and then we'll buy the pickets and the wire on Thursday. The back yard will be completed, and, weather permitting, stained and lovely by the end of this weekend! WOOHOO!

School Update:
Gem, you'd asked about Smidge's work. I'll write up -- *hang on, have to go threaten, erm, remind the children what "reading quietly" means* -- *ok, I'm back* -- anyhow, I'll write up an general list of the things we use for his 'schooling' sometime this week and get it posted.

The two older children have just about finished their spring term. They've done quite well, and are looking forward to doing things a little differently for a month or two.

The new keyboard should be delivered Wednesday, which is good, because the boys have lessons on Thursday and I'd feel more than a bit sheepish if they hadn't touched a key all week. They're both thrilled about the lessons, though, and have done all their theory work for the week already. I think this will be a good addition to our routine.

General Update:
Today, the boys are a bit flighty. I am a bit cranky. There's still much to be done. What an ugly combination! Sheesh. You'd think we'd have a better plan in place than "wing it til something either clicks or falls apart". But, no. No, that is the plan, at least for today. Fortunately, once the Littles are bathed and the wash is put away, all we'll have to do is make up burritos to take to the field, load the wagon and go. I'm actually looking forward to the afternoon spent on the grass. :-)

Ok, timer beeped. Time to rouse the sleeping beauty and see if I can squeegee enough dirt off her to take her out in public.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Time To Slow It Down A Bit

(A post in which it seems I've decided to abuse quotation marks and hypenation. You've been warned.)

I've been feeling a bit punky the past couple of days, and I think it's time to slow down. Not slow-down-relatively-speaking, but honest-to-goodness-slow-the-heck-down.

We had a prenatal appointment Friday, and while there is nothing "wrong", things weren't quite as "spot on" as I'd like them to be. The swelling's getting worse - up to my knees now, and leaves imprints if I lean on something (ew - but not to the point of having to worry, as it's not in my hands or face, and there are no other concerns on that end), my blood pressure (while not even close to being considered "high") is high-for-me, I'm throwing a little protein (again, not enough to raise the flag of alarm, but a little, which I've never done before), and little Heiney is now measuring smaller than the last visit (which we think is b/c he's snugged in so tightly and so far down that the midwife could only feel the nape of his neck - that's a good thing, generally speaking, although not-comfortable-in-the-least from my perspective).

Then yesterday, I was out of breath and crampy all morning. Finally, in the midst of fixing breakfast, I did something I've never done before. I fixed myself a plate, asked Zorak to feed everyone else, and hid in my room. Well, "hid" is a relative term. I went to my room, whereupon everybody followed me. But still, at least I was holed up in bed with a high-protein plate of food and all the water Smidge could bring me in many, many trips with a 3oz. cup. I think he covered a good mile with all the trips he made. (He's so good to me. gush-gush) And then, I napped. Sweet, blissful, guilt-free napping from mid-morning til after noon. Felt much better.

But it still took a few hours for me to realize that *this* is exactly what I need to be doing more of.

So, I'm going to do more of it.

Which means that unless I can come up with some way to make the inside of my eyelids into an interesting blog post, or regale you all with detailed analysis of the thread count on my sheets, the next week's worth of blogging may be a bit... um, incoherent? Boring? I don't know. Maybe I can get Zorak to guest blog once in a while or something, right?

And so, early-to-bed, it's 10:37 and I'm off for a nap!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Oh, we had fun!

Our Wonderful Neighbors arrived Wednesday night. The kids picked up like it hasn't actually been three years since they've seen one another. Erin came in. The kids disappeared on the property. We have no photos from Wed, other than this one, which Zorak couldn't resist taking at bedtime. That's a pile. of. children. Doesn't it look like fun?

 

Thursday morning, all the kids were up by SIX-THIRTY! ACK! No time to lose, right? They ate and headed out to play. They played all day. Erin and I spent most of the day standing at the window, oogling the children, ooohing and ahhhing over how much they've grown and how totally fantastic they are.

The boys had their first piano lessons Thursday, so I ran them in for that while Erin stayed with the littles. Then, due to the freakish weather we've been having, the coaches all decided to schedule impromptu practices Thursday evening. I ran John to practice, made several parts runs (the compressor on the Suburban died last week, so Zorak worked on that for us), and then Zorak tagged me out so I could stay and visit with Erin while he took James to his practice at six. I was exhausted. Erin and I sat and visited and had a really nice time. More child-watching, more oohing. Definitely more ahhing. We didn't realize until Friday morning that there are NO photos from Thursday, at all. We're losers.

Friday was also good. The weather turned cold-cold, but Zorak fired up the plough disk and a little fire so the kids could have a cook-out and play outside. HUGE hit with the kids.

 

I'll tell you, these kids make having seven look like a cake walk. They are all. such. great. kids. We tried to convince her to leave them here, but she didn't figure she'd get such a great reception with the Grandparents if she arrived without them.

And, here's a picture of the two preggo women after they lumbered down to the fire. Yes, it looks like we've been camping for a week straight. I love friends who don't care if you wear make up or do your hair. :-)

 

Beauty is...

Definitely in the eye of the beholder.

This is the ex-Zen waterfall back in the Scary Room. The tar paper funnel? Unnecessary now. (Well, and partially useless to begin with, but that's what we had at the time.) There is a bit of dampness (Amy, I won't use the "m" word in this post, just because you're still recovering and I adore you - but it is "m" down there.) What there is not, however, is actual FLOW, conveyance, or white water rapids.

It rained harder last night than it has in over a year. The creek nearly flooded. There is debris along the edge of the drive, it came up that high. Zorak actually called to ask that I keep the kids away from the creek today because it was so full and moving so quickly. That's a LOT. Of. Rain, folks.

Until now, this basement has flooded in the kind of light rains that Bert and Mary Poppins dance in. Normally, you can hear the water flowing when you go into the basement. This morning? Silence. Sweet, semi-dry silence. And after I screwed up the courage to open the door and look I was quite delighted to find it THIS dry. Also, up top, there are usually small pools (filled with some kind of aquatic life, I'm sure, something like Smeagol), but as far as I could tell - not that I scampered up that embankment - there aren't any!

And all we did (well, all Zorak did - I stood there and pretended to be able to eyeball the slope) was the dirt work from the last couple of weekends! WOOHOO!

So, now...

A french drain...

Some foliage...

It'll soon be dry and snug under there. (Not that I'll want to hang out in it, even then, but, you know, it'll be progress.)

And yes, it's still an ugly room. But that nearly dry corner? Beautiful!

~Dy

*for the record, Zorak objects to the use of the phrase "screwed up the courage" - he says it sounds like I messed it up somehow. But you know, I really, truly didn't want to open that door, and I can't think of a better way to phrase it!*

A Work Day

First, we worked. We dug post holes. Emily drove the tractor. Emily found the cement water. Ack! We washed Emily off and put her back on the tractor. She didn't seem to mind.

We dug some more. Cleaned off the back porch. The front porch. The muddy shoes from the front porch (so that's where all the shoes have been!)

And then, having earned our keep for the morning, we settled in to enjoy the fruits of our labor with a picnic on the back porch!


The boys thought this was a pretty great way to start the morning. Me, too.


Kiss those babies!
~Dy

It's Feeling Like Springtime!

It was in the 70's today, and absolutely "glorious", as James put it. Zorak worked on the garden, the yard, and the fence. I worked on the house. We turned off the HVAC and flung wide the doors. (We also let in the spiders and moths. Oops.)

The children alternated between climbing trees to perch up there and read (which sounds infinitely more romantic than it is - they're all covered in scratches and bark-burn now, and we've yet to locate one of the books), and helping with the work. Emily free-ranged most of the day, buried a pair of shoes in a pile of leaves, rode her tricycle down the driveway, talked a brother into hauling it back up for her. All-in-all, a really great day.

Me-Wa and Me-Tae came out mid-afternoon and visited. The guys got a good portion of the fence panels put up. John learned how to mix concrete. EmBaby delighted in having her "Nice Terry" (her personal name for Me-Tae) to wallow in all afternoon. I didn't accomplish much at that point other than fetching the occasional beer, and enjoying a relaxing visit with friends. Good stuff, that.

Erin and her little brood of chicks (most of the familial unit of our Wonderful Neighbors from MD) will be here in just a few more days. We'll turn the whole flock loose to play in the mud while us preggo mamas sit on the porch and gestate in the lovely Spring Weather. The kids are stoked, but I think I'm actually more excited about this visit than they are.

Did you have a lovely weekend, too? I hope so!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Keeping Busy

It is difficult to remain mired in pity when one's hands and mind are engaged in more productive endeavors.

Isn't that a fun thing to say? I just love it. I love that picture, too. (Although it's been mangled beyond recognition by a wildly over-caffeinated woman who has neither the software nor the ssense to be futzing with photograps. You know that point where an artist's eye whispers to the artist's brain, "That's it. Stop... there." She doesn't have an articulate eye, not even a mumbling one. But she had fun, nonetheless.)

That's a shot of one of the Giant's Cairns that lie atop each of the many dirt piles around the property now. (Many? There was only one dirt pile when this all started... are these rabbit mounds?) Well, regardless of where the piles have come from, wandering giants can now find their way from the main road to the house for water and snacks by simply following the cairns. (Might want to remind the boys: giants eat children.)

Today was busy. Productive. Laundry, meals, grading, scraping, a rousing game of Musical Ball Fields from one 'til four, supper, washing, mending, hugging and encouraging... No room for pouty or whiny. Scads of room, however, for a round or two of Let's-pass-out-exhausted - played by all the children until about 8:30, when the last of the kids crashed and the house fell silent. Whew. That's a day well-lived!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Feeling a Little Pouty

It's an odd sensation to be able to acknowledge that your feelings aren't rational or based on reality, and give them room to just float to the surface so you can deal with them and move on. This is funny, because... well, because I am feeling a little pouty, and because I know it's infantile.

But you know what? My ankles are bigger around than my calves right now (and I am not a "petite" woman with slender calves, to begin with), and gosh-darn-it, while I'm okay with embracing the fact that this is a different season of life than we were in nine and a half years ago and we're in a different place, and none of it is bad...

I'm feeling a wee bit neglected in the "expectant mother" category this time around. I can't get a foot rub, or a back rub, or even a sympathetic place to elevate my legs and moan quietly. And to be honest, the pampering from Zorak that I've always received while I was pregnant, well, it kind of made pregnancy a bit more enjoyable for me. Probably made it a bit more work for him, too, which is why I understand that my feeling neglected is infantile. Let's face it...

The man is up and out the door before the sun each morning. He's not a morning person. He does not do this for the fun of it. He does it because he has integrity and does the job he was hired to do. He does it because he loves us and by doing this, he is able to provide this wonderful home and life that we live. If it were solely up to him (and if we would not suffer for it), he would sleep til' noon and work on something interesting after his mid-day coffee. But because we would probably not fare well on that plan, he does the Long Haul thing, instead. How can I possibly complain about that? I can't.

He has a *lot* on his plate. Not only does he drive nearly an hour each way for work, he works a nine-hour day, and then comes home and works-works-works some more. Whether it's on the property, or the vehicles, or on projects with the boys, there is always something to demand his time and attention. Sometimes he is still hard at it well past midnight. There's no burning the midnight oil, because the lamp gives out before he does. Thank God for drop lights. Again, can't really look at that and throw a little fit, now, can I? Nope.

He does not ask much of me, really. School the children well. Love them and keep them safe and healthy. Keep the house running smoothly. Run the kitchen in a manner that won't actually poison anyone directly. Continue to love him and support him and let him know I'm on his team. There's not a hint of the whole "Sleeping With the Enemy" issue anywhere in the man's psyche. (For the record, the spices are organized the way they are because *I* have issues, not him.) ;-) And he doesn't come in and mess them up, either! Do I have it good, or what? I do. I know.

Two, three, four pregnancies ago, we didn't have so much on our plates. We didn't have a home to refinish, or a barn, or a garden or land. We didn't have plans-in-action yet, or large equipment rentals and drainage to contend with. Come the end of the day, we were both just kind-of tired, not I'm-just-going-to-die-here-on-the-couch exhausted.

We also had cable. I imagine being able to watch History of the Gun and Mail Call helps take your mind off the fact that the woman beached on the couch beside you has just stuck her garish feet in your face and started whimpering like a beaten kitten. Yeah, I get that.

So, I'm good with our quality time being spent on box blades and harley rakes (both of which he has explained to me, and I get! Yay!) But I think I'm going to have to go draw a hot bath and prop my feet up and sing along with Raffi to "Baby Beluga" while I pantomime the song with my feet. Pampering yourself still totally counts as pampering. And it won't put more pressure on him right now, either. And come morning, when the swelling has subsided a bit, so will my little whine-and-cheese party.

After all, it's all good. And for a good cause. And in the big picture, this. is. nothing.

Only three and a half weeks to go!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy

My Turn!

Mmm, Smidge woke me this morning.

- Where's my new school book?

- Mrph.

- Where?

- Urf, mumble, mumble. Banana?

- Noooo, not the bananas, my new school book.

(He was going to force me to open one eye, I could tell. And I did not want to because it was still dark out, and who in the world does school when it's dark out, except for people who live in the Arctic?)

I tried to nudge Zorak, but nearly fell off the bed. He wasn't there. That's when I glanced at the clock, thinking certainly he'd only just got up (and also hoping perhaps he could talk Smidge into a banana and give me a few more minutes of sleep).

- Honey, it's only... oh... is it really 8:30?!?!

(I did a double take out the window - it really is dark and grey and overcast - so in defense of my subconscious, it looks like it's maybe six, at the latest.)

Well where have I been for the last three hours? And where is everyone else? (Zorak, obviously, at work. The kids, still asleep. But Smidge had held out as long as he could. He was just too excited to try out a new book we'd bought for him to play with while the other boys did school.) It was nice, though, to have a turn to sleep in. I've been alternately staving off and succumbing to a cold, or mid-winter ick, or whatever it is that's going around, and this little reprieve was certainly appreciated. The kids are all getting over it, which is doubly nice, as hopefully we'll slip into March nice and healthy.

And so, we're up - albeit at the crack of mid-morning - ready to do school. Emily's up now, too, and so is John. James will stumble out shortly and we'll begin what promises to be a nice, slow morning (since, thankfully, we don't have to be anywhere today. It could have been a much worse start to the day!) I've held them off for a bit with animal crackers and peanut butter so I can have a cup of coffee and let the level in my brain catch up with my body.

In spite of the fact that I'm still a bit fuzzy, I am also thankful. Thankful the children haven't "missed" any of their education due to our need to recuperate. Thankful that we don't have to drag them to the pediatrician's office (thus subjecting ourselves to things far worse than the mid-winter ick) just to get a professional's letter exonerating me from negligence in allowing them to rest. Thankful that Zorak can be so sweetly quiet in the mornings, knowing I was almost down for the count. Thankful that, when we do all arise, our learning and exploring can begin and flow and move with us, rather than it being we who must try to catch up with it. Thankful that today is not a waste, no matter how it starts out.

I love this life. (And Smidge loves his new book, which it only took me a couple of minutes to locate.)

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Wordless Wednesday

Kiss those babies!
~Dy
(well, "nearly" wordless, anyway)

Dirty Work... (Forever Home Update)

This is the view from the edge of the upper meadow. Thanks to the pesky law of gravity, and water inevitably taking the path of least resistance, you can see that both come together here to form the Zen Waterfall in the basement. (Evidently, it's easier to get under the house than around it. Weee!)

The slope is fairly steep, and the valley is right against the house. Do you see the little yellow dump truck in the distance (near the middle of the shot, but way in the back)? To the left of that is a HUGE stump that prevents water from flowing away from the house. So, we've got to do something about that. The white things sticking up are the stakes for the fence, and we kinda-sorta figured it might be best to deal with the drainage issues before we put the fence up rather than try to finagle it around the fence later.

You can see all kinds of things in the photo above: the family pirate, James and Zorak doing a little survey work, Me-Wa playing with the heavy equipment, and in the foreground, my dead salad garden boxy-area-thing. Busy space.

This is a closer shot of Me-Wa grading the back yard to redirect the runoff. Until now, it has always flowed from the upper meadow, straight toward the house. Whatever didn't go into the basement, ran alongside the house until it found a way in, and then, finally, down toward the carport/fire thing, as a last ditch effort. Now, it will hopefully run *around* the house, and down the valley farther from the house, into the creek.

Now, here, you can see that they'd levelled quite a bit. They did more after I took this shot, but it rained last night, and I'm surrounded by an 80-foot-wide swath of mud and mire from every exit except the balcony door. (The mud pit goes all the way around both the front and back of the house.)

The guys found a concrete slab by the basement window, so we used that as the basis for the new grade. It all slopes away from the house, toward the middle of the mud swath, which will one day be green and lush and hopefully not boggy in the least (if we did our math correctly!)

And this is the best that could be done with the time allowed for the rental, and the equipment itself. As you can see, they did get the sidewalk torn up and moved down to the driveway. I haven't braved the mud swath to get to the barn yet, but they also put a good-sized dent in the garden by the barn.

This is basically our final grade. Again, they did a bit more after I retired the camera (the gutter drain is gone now and that corner's been built up and contoured, for example). From what I understand, we need a tractor and a Harley Rake, or a bobcat and a box blade to do the finish work at this point. (For the record: that last sentence is entirely Greek to me, and since I'm spooling up on carpools, schedules, and meals-to-go, that's Zorak's ball to run with this week. Once he fills me in on what we're doing and why, I'll be sure to let ya know.)

The kids had a BLAST this weekend, between playing with Me-Tae, playing in the dirt, helping Dad and Me-Wa... it was just good, good, good.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Random Baseball Post

We've heard from two out of three of the coaches. So far, I'm tickled with one, a little nervous (or "cautiously optimistic", if you will) about the other.

John's coach is fantastic. I'm so excited! He coached John's team in the Summer League last year, and he is all about the boys and helping the boys learn new skills, learn to work together, learn to really enjoy the game. His whole family is so sweet, and so into just enjoying the kids. I couldn't have dreamed up a better coach for John. Plus, since we do know his wife and son, for those times when we have three kids at three different fields at the same time, we'd feel comfortable asking them to keep an eye on him for us. And they'd be glad to do it.

James' coach sounds enthusiastic and nice. They have only 11 kids on the team, and he has three others helping him coach, so there is a lot of potential for this to be a fantastic learning experience. He's also one of the football coaches, and after our football experience, I'm really hoping he's not all about getting into the Majors and making this Your Entire Existence At The Cost Of All Else. Because if he is, well, it's going to be a rough season for all of us - including him. I'm not going to be as quiet about abuses of power or neglectful coaching in baseball as I was in football. This isn't foreign turf to me this year, and I've been fortunate to see how it can be run, and run well. We'll see. I'm not going to pigeon hole him right off the bat, and he does sound very encouraging. I also really like his philosophy about the boys' attitudes and respectfulness - it's always nice to have similar standards with outside groups that you have at home. I'm just not all gushy and tickled like I am with John's coach. But it could be good. It could be very good.

Smidge's coach, we haven't heard from yet. He has, however, the ultimate faith that his coach will call soon and that he ("OR she," as Smidge reminds us) will be absolutely wonderful. The only thing Smidge is concerned about is whether we're going to make it into town before practice starts, to pick up "all the things I need to have, Mom!" Evidently, he's got a list made up and ready to go. Been saving up for this ALL YEAR, don't ya know?

And me? I've got my list of "travel supplies" and my "meals in minutes" stash ready to go. Just need to get to work on that foyer... :-S

But for now, I've got to get some rest. I'll post pictures of the latest in the Forever Home work tomorrow. :-)

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

The Derby!

Today was The Big Day.

The kids had a fantastic time. The races were a riot. All the cars were such fun to see, and the boys' encouragement of one another was so heartening to the adults in the room.

The Littles had no trouble keeping busy.
They even enjoyed a little early luncheon out together...

And at the end of the day, we can say, it was a Good Day.

(James placed first in his den, John placed second or third in his. - It was hard to tell over the leaping and high-fiving and other sibling noises. - There was an overall Pack heat, and James took second in that one, as well. They were both so proud of their cars, and of each other. It was a great event! They cannot wait until the District Race next month, and I think I overheard them talking about "next year" already, as well!)

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Watching the eclipse with kids.

The boys were so excited. As if to remind us of the big event, the moon came out early in the day the last two days. (This is the only decent moon photo we took. My camera, and my skills, are not so good with night photography.)

Then we had severe cloud cover last night. At seven, it was complete. Not a shred of light slipped through the clouds. But what with kids being kids and all excited, I couldn't make an executive decision not to give it a shot. We figured we would wait and try, anyway. I'm so glad we did!

We still had to compete with the cloud cover, but it moved so quickly, and in the opposite direction of the eclipse, that the boys were able to enjoy the spectacle.

It was cold! (Can you tell which of the children runs a little warmer than the other?) The littlest ones stayed inside to play. Smidge came out just as the big orange shadow made it's grand appearance. I missed it, as Emily also put on a grand I-am-so-done-with-this-being-up-nonsense show about the same time. So, while the boys were enjoying their time with Nature. I was enjoying some bedtime snuggles with Em. 2010 may sound like a long way off, to catch the next eclipse, but that's nothing compared to all that will transpire with these children between now and then. She needed me more than I wanted to see that - and we can catch the next one together.

When I left the boys, they were settled in for the duration. Or so it seemed...

Not too long after the eclipse began to fade, however, they decided to play football. In, as you can see, the dark. Of course there was crashing and wailing and yelling and a tear or two. My sympathies didn't run deep. They've been told not to play football on the sloped meadow in the dark (things you never thought you'd have to explain, #286) So when they needed a referee, I called bedtime, citing the rule that says: I just got the baby down, and I will not be pleased if I have to take you all out in this weather to visit the ER. Game! Round 'em up. Stories, snuggles, no broken bones or bloody lips. (Had to check, just in case. I may not have sounded terribly sympathetic, but a Mom still worries.) All is well.

Dad comes home tonight! Yay!

Kiss those babies!

~Dy

In for a quiet few days.

The children spent the morning down at the dirt pile. Or, what's left of it. They've amassed quite a pile of dirt clods atop it. "Dirt Bombs," they call them. They claim it's a defensive measure to help protect "the pile". Looks more like a cairn for lost giants, to be honest, but I didn't tell them that. We got back this afternoon and they all headed down there, lined up like little ducks. I love that Em can go down and wallow and climb and play with the big kids, everybody can have a wonderful time, and her brothers don't give her a hard time. They don't give me a hard time about having her around, either. I don't think it would dawn on them to exclude Smidge (who is convinced he IS Big now) or Em. Another thing to be thankful for!

When it's time to go into town, I just brush them all off with a whisk broom and send them in to wash their hands and faces. They're still slightly rust-colored, but I figure we live in the country and when we go into town, a little country dust isn't such a bad thing. Not that I'd wear it like the badge of honor the kids do, but that's okay. I'm glad they're happy with where we are and what we do.

We ate in town with Zorak and then he headed off for a few days' travel for work. Yuck. He doesn't have to go often, and we appreciate that. Still, he's so nice to have around, and he's missed when he's gone, so we all feel just a wee bit whiny when he does have to go. He hates it, too, and I have to admit that that makes me smile. Not that I'm a sadist. I'm just glad he's not clamoring to get out of Dodge whenever he has the opportunity.

Zorak didn't leave me with any specific tasks to finish while he's gone (other than the obligatory, "try not to lose one of them, and don't forget to feed the dog"), so I'm going to try to get some crochet work done after the evening head count. That'll fill my evenings quite nicely (and probably sharpen my tongue a bit, too). I have a hat nearly finished, and hope to move on to John's scarf. Poor kid has been waiting for *three years* for this yellow scarf. I can't knit to save my soul, so I figured perhaps I can get the thing done if I crochet it. He's feeling optimistic. If I can get those two projects done in a reasonable time, I'm going to take the plunge and try to make a hooded pullover! I found a really cute one in a book this weekend, and am dying to try it. I just feel that I ought to complete a few UFOs before I can justify starting yet another Big Project. (But truly, you just cannot have too many hooded sweatshirts, jackets, and pullovers. You just can't.)

It's getting dark. I'd best go turn on the porch light so the dirty children loitering in the meadow can find their way to shelter and food here in a bit.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Well, that was a shocker!

We got a lot done!

Well, Zorak and the boys did. I, um, well, I got one curtain made. Heh. Yeah. (Mere, never did find the thread, but I did find the empty bag! I asked around, but nobody saw anything. Nobody knows anything. *snicker* Fortunately, I did find an old spool of white and made that work. I hope it holds!) The rest of my productivity was mostly the same productivity I have every week: made bread, did laundry, cleaned the kitchen. Nothing to blog about, really. So, um, I'll stop and talk about something else.

Zorak, however, really romped on the chores. He got four 6-foot fence panels built (this is for fencing in the back yard - it'll hold domestic critters, namely Balto and the children), plus three corner posts. Big old H-posts that'll hold up to the strain of children clamboring over them (because it's so much more fun to climb a fence than go through a gate when you're little). We figure if you're big enough to climb the fence, then you're big enough to be let out of the fenced yard without Mom having to worry. A premeditated rite-of-passage, if you will.

John learned how to make mortise and tenon joints. He would make a fantastic carpenter. The boy loves to channel his inner Pa Ingalls.

They worked more on their derby cars. The race is Saturday! Yikes, that came up quickly!

We had a bonfire Saturday evening. It was a gorgeous night, with a clear sky and no wind. The kids brought their chili down and ate around the fire. Zorak and I snuggled on a chunk of wood and basked in the warmth of it all - the fire, the children, the life we've built. That felt very good.

We did get a dumptruck of dirt delivered. Then it rained, and rained, and rained some more. Then it was cold and wet. So, we skipped the skid steer this weekend. No sense in using large machinery to rip up the land when we have four perfectly capable children who will do it for just the cost of food.

The children played quite happily in the rain, and the mud, and the cold. I wanted so badly to get a picture of it, but the camera was out in the Suburban, and I'm not a child who is willing to go out in the rain and the mud and the cold for something that doesn't involve my immediate survival (or comfort - I'd do it for comfort). So you'll just have to take my word for it that they were really quite adorable out there. The little drowned wharf-rats. :-)

The boys were so busy working and planning and playing that it took them until this afternoon to find the dirt pile. We may not even have to go down there to spread it all out, by the time they're done with it! They had a fantastic afternoon and only one of them made it more than three pages into tonight's story. That's a sign of a Very Good Day.

In all, it was a Very Good Weekend. More productive than most. Plenty of time to enjoy the little things. We ate like kings with fresh bread, venison steaks and saffron rice and steamed veggies. I made a dump cake, which didn't last much past supper. Little things. Good things. Can't complain.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Ready for Spring

The children spent the afternoon playing at the creek earlier in the week. John came running up to the house to tell me they'd found a bird's nest. We traipsed on down to check it out.

It's empty right now. I don't know if it's something that may see the arrival of a family this Spring, but wouldn't that be fun? I love possibilities.

What's possible for you this year?

Kiss those babies!

~Dy

Weekend Plans

It's a long weekend, which doesn't bode well for making actual progress on our projects. And yet, we forge ahead with grand plans, anyway. (Ha - I typed "forget". Twice. How's that for fighting our natures?)

We have dirt coming at nine. A tractor to pick up at, erm, *whenever we get around to it* (skid steer - thingy with a bucket - whatever it's called, it's for moving dirt, and hopefully we'll be able to move enough dirt to put a bit of a non-Zen-like hurting on the Zen Waterfall in the basement!) Post holes to dig. Fence panels to build.

And, in case we run out of things to do (cough, cough, ahem), I have a brand new bottle of grout sealant. Because you just can't have too many layers of grout sealant on a boys' bathroom floor!

The boys are psyched about "getting" to use the post hole digger. Heh. You know, some things just look like a whole lot more fun than they are. This is one of them. And hey, since we've both used those things before, we are in no rush to explain that to the boys. We figure we can get a hole or two out of the big boys before they catch on that it's all a big, hairy illusion. We might even get one decent hole out of Smidge. That'll do.

I've decided the foyer needs a make-over. Not like it's "finished" to begin with, but more a functional make-over. I realized this evening that we really need a Central Command for bags and supplies. Some place to land everything when we come in, and have it ready to go when we need to go. Since we don't have a coat closet, mud room, game room, or garage, the foyer seems like as good a place as any. Or, more to the point, the foyer is the only place, other than the barn, that isn't already pulling its own weight around here. So it gets the job by default.

This ("this," being the whole "organizational, ready to be places on time" thing) is not my strong area, by any means. Particularly the "ready to be places on time" bit. Add in the need to be "prepared", and we're in way over our heads! My hope is to really tackle that demon and beat it down this spring. If I don't, I may end up on sedatives and st. john's wart/antacid cocktails before Memorial Day.

And... it's after eleven, and I can't think. I can't write. I am going to give up and go read. Sometimes, that's just how it goes. :-)

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

SCORE!

Great day, all around, and I have news for the boys when they get home from Scouts tonight!

We made it to Sam's. The boys were only mildly out of whack. I have a plentiful stash of tortillas. Yay us.

We got to see Me-Tae, who really and truly went out of her way to make a point to hook up with us today. (Literally - I'd just said we were going to Sam's, but it turned out we were at the *other* Sam's Club in town - neither of us knew there are two of them!)

We made it to see the midwife, and all is well with wee Heinrich. No wonder I feel like an 8-day old August roadkill carcass. I've netted almost 40 pounds this pregnancy, and it's all jammed up against my liver. Maybe a lung. Ugh. But that's okay. You're supposed to be miserable at the end of a pregnancy: you know it's near the end, and you don't mind seeing the end.

Back home, unload, sandwiches all around, and off the boys went for their meeting. The small ones and I gorged ourselves on pork rinds and M&M's and watched a Christmas movie. Nice, quiet evening in the fast lane, eh?

And then, the phone rang.

It was the baseball lady.

I was going to let the answering machine get it, but we don't have an answering machine. That sort of forced my hand.

WOOHOO - we can fill out the forms and pay the fees tomorrow and get the boys started playing baseball this season!

*ahhhh* Sweet relief.

But now, I'm looking at our calendar, and it's starting to creep me out a bit. Scouts, baseball, piano, balcony refinishing, new baby, camping trips and summer camp... what's happening to us? I guess this is what the Changing of the Seasons looks like. If it is, this will certainly be an interesting new season of life here at the Forever Home.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

23 degrees and snowing

Well, John says it's snowing. To me, the world just looks mildly blurry, more like I might need glasses than anything else. But hey, if the 7-year-old says it's snow, I'm bound to trust his opinion. Young boys are, certainly, more highly attuned to "the presence of snow" than 30-something women who wear cardigans and wool socks and have no vested interest in snow as long as they don't have to go out in it.

Now, however, I'd like to know why Smidge is surprised that his Thomas sandals don't keep him warm. Three times, I said, "Put on socks, and your warm, brown shoes." Three times. And three times he slipped out the back door in a stinkin' t-shirt and summer sandals without socks. Now he doesn't want to go out "because it's too cold". Well, no kidding, genius! Gah. (I hate to sound curt, but seriously, this child has already contributed more than his fair share to the growth of the Klingon bump between my eyebrows.) I do have hope, since he's not Toddler Insane anymore, but still - why? WHY on EARTH would Mom tell you to wear socks and warm shoes? Or, heaven forbid, get down your big blue coat rather than your green fleece hoodie? Because she doesn't like you? Because she likes to torture you? *snort* Obviously.

And the fact that John's out there in boots, a coat, hat and gloves, having a glorious time? Certainly, that must be proof that he's simply given up on standing his ground. John's gone and caved to the Evil Maternal Empire.

That's okay. The myopic snowfall isn't really quite sticking, and it won't last long. As soon as the temps come above freezing, we'll be heading to the store for yummy things like bananas and milk and eggs. And then, I won't seem so evil, and he (wearing a coat and warm shoes at that point) won't seem so revolutionarily insane, and all will be well with our world. Sometimes it pays to have the same attention span and short-term memory as your younger children. :-)

I just have to remember to give the list to James before we head out, or we'll come home with a random hodge-podge of things we probably don't need.

I'm so thankful I didn't have all five children in one fell swoop. The staggered ages help me keep things in perspective. The little ones are cute, I mean really cute. Those great big eyes and top-heavy head:body ratio can make even the most criminal-feeling behavior seem surmountable and give you hope. They remind me that the big ones looked like that once, and that makes me smile, makes me remember that it'll be gone all too quickly.

The big ones, well, they simply aren't insane anymore. They have the ability to reason and discourse (not that they always use it, but they do have the ability, and I cling to that). They make better decisions on a more regular basis, and can usually spot their bad decisions with very little prompting or explaining. They are helpful and funny. The think it's funny when we tell them that they did the same things the littles are doing now. That, too, gives me hope, and makes me smile.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Piano Lessons!

It's going to happen! It's a reality!

James and John start piano lessons on March 6th!! (I start on the 7th *sheepish grin* - I don't remember enough to be of any use, otherwise.)

The teacher came highly recommended (which, really, is my only hope). She loves homeschoolers, worked us in back-to-back for the boys, and sounds like she has wonderful expectations that jive with the way we do things, here. She's big on consistent practice in shorter sessions vs. prolonged sessions less often. She said she provides fun projects and songs for the kids to work on, but it's contingent on the kids getting their theory work done... I think I'll like her. Plus, she doesn't have my gruff, scary R. Lee Ermey demeanor. Always a plus when working with children.

Now, I guess I'd better order that keyboard, eh?

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Monday, Monday...

Well, today turned out, um, not half bad.

The baseball rep said to talk to the Community Rec. President. I left a message for him. He had somebody else call me back.

She was baffled as to how we could have not known. I mean, they have it on the high school display board, and they sent letters home with the kids. How could we not have known?

Well, my eldest is nine, so I never go to the high school, and we aren't in the public school system, so we're out of that communication loop. Sorry. (Although, come to think of it, this isn't through the schools...)

She didn't seem to like those reasons, but she did stop being quite so curt. She then went on to explain that they've got to "run the numbers" first and see what the teams look like (sounds like the group is coordinated by bookies, doesn't it? It was difficult not to snicker when that thought hit me, but I was still on the phone, so I managed to stifle it.) They'll let me know by Wednesday if the boys can play. She said she figures Smidge can play, but doesn't know the status of the other two groups.

Um, yeah.

So, not sure how this is going to pan out. I can't see having Smidge play and making his brothers sit on the sidelines (especially John, who has spent all winter out there, practicing his batting, running and catching - although, interestingly enough, he was the most gracious about this whole thing when I explained what I'd done. What a doll.)

If they can't play, I will probably try the next nearest districts and see if they'll let us play for them this year. Something.

I still feel like a heel.

On the Forever Home front, Zorak priced the materials for the fence today, and it looks like it'll be not only easier to do than we'd thought, but will also cost less than we'd anticipated. Yay! It looks like it's going to rain Saturday, so I don't think we'll be renting the tractor or moving dirt. But we can build the fence panels in the basement and get them stained. Plus, it's easier to dig post holes in moist dirt, anyway, right? ;-)

Oh, and we have propane. For a while, we didn't have heat, though, and that had me freaked out. I went all Useless Chick in Adventure Movie when the whole system shut down entirely and started blinking at me. Called Zorak up and he donned his shiny armor and walked me through it, saving both the day and my sanity in the process. I was thisfar from loading everyone up and spending the day at the mall, just in case the place exploded. (It wasn't anything that bad, but it was if you'd asked my imagination ten minutes into trying to figure it out! I'm such a goober sometimes. And yes, the pilot was lit. I'm not THAT much of a goober. Or, at least I wasn't... today.)

Tonight, we sleep soundly, and warm. Tomorrow, we... do more stuff! Hurrah!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

ARGH - SO CLOSE!

Claudia asked me last night when baseball sign-ups start. I told her they should be this month, sometime. I felt so proud of myself for remembering that we have to start thinking about warm weather sports during the coldest month of our year. Yup. Feelin' pretty with-it.

I got online to check our community rec website, and it still had last year's sign-up info. Huh. That's weird. It didn't have last year's football info at all, which I thought was doubly strange. After a little finagling and clicking and roaming, *poof* the page suddenly changes - all new updates, all new info, all new site design! Same URL. Ahh, well, here we go, baseball... sign ups...

January 26th

Feb 2

Feb 9

Crap.

I've sent an email to the baseball rep, begging for clemency. Three little boys may disown me if I've blown it for the entire season.

*sigh*

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Busy Weekend

It's been a great weekend for productivity here at the Forever Home. Zorak hauled the carcasses of dead appliances down to the Recycle Guy, so the carport-that-wants-to-be-a-fire is looking a bit more, well, a bit less terrifying.

I cleaned the kitchen pantry, then sorted, organized and inventoried the food storage shelf (yes, "shelf", singular. We're not good Mormons, Catholics, or survivalists... just slackin' Protestants). I am tickled, though, to see that we've nearly met our first goal! I was hoping to get to a two-month supply, and we're just about there! We need to flesh it out a bit, as there are some things I've completely forgotten to store - like pasta, and (gah, this is embarrassing to even admit) water. Yes. Yes, I know. Der. However, I'd only begun this project in September, so I'm quite happy with the results, and we've been able to accomplish it without any appreciable increase in our grocery bill.

We have the back yard staked out for a fence! We have the new garden boundaries marked, as well, and we have the spot for the chicken coop laid out. Now, if only we can decide just how we want to design the coop, we might make some progress on it! I tried to talk KathyJo into coming down with her crew so we could turn the menfolk loose down there, but she's not budging. Pfft. You'd think she's enjoying the snow or something. ;-)

Oh, hey, and while we marked out the back yard boundaries, the house spoke to us again (shhh, you're the only ones we tell about this stuff - the neighbors might think we're nuts... but, then again, that could come in handy...) Anyway, there's a door off the kitchen that leads out back. We don't use it because, like so many other things on this place, it's scary-dangerous. The first step is over a foot down, and if you misstep, you'll tumble down a painful, brick-edged, gauntlet. The little iron railings have long rusted away, so if you mistakenly attempt to grab hold of one, you'll only increase the likelihood that you'll be impaled before you hit bottom. As of yesterday, that door is now marked for a small landing and wooden steps that'll lead into the back yard. (Not only will it be lovely and functional, but then the children won't have to traipse through our bedroom to get to the back yard. WOOHOO!)

Zorak eyeballed my hammock trees for a tree house. He even measured them. I don't want to sound territorial, here, and I would do anything for my children, but I worked for two full summers to clear enough briars and poison ivy to get *to* those trees, so I could hang a hammock. Not so they could build a tree house. A hammock, darnit. I've never had a hammock. I'd like a hammock. I WANT a hammock. Besides, there are eighty bazillion suitable tree house trees on the property, but not so many suitable hammock sites. *ahem* Um, so, that particular piece of land is currently in limbo. (It'll probably end up being a tree house. Maybe I can sling my hammock beneath the deck?)

We ran out of propane on Saturday morning. Gah. I hate this little tank. (Riiiiight. Because it couldn't have anything to do with the fact that I'm the one who forgets to check it? OK, let me rephrase that: I hate that I forget to check that little tank.) If you ask for a delivery Not On Your Delivery Day, they hit you with fees: "Should've Checked Your Tank, Stoopid" fees, which add up to several hundred dollars. Plus, you pay a higher price for the gas, itself, at an "off route" price. We called to find out just what the "off route" price is, and see about scheduling a delivery, but the emergency delivery guy never called back, so Zorak hooked up a little tank and we'll use that until Monday.

I had to smile. That brought back memories of our first home together, when we were often too poor to afford the 100 gallon minimum delivery. (And that was when it was $1.75/gal., too.) He'd use the small tanks to limp us along, getting them refilled at the gas station (back when gas stations still did that sort of thing) on his way home from work, switching the tanks out, until we could save enough money to get a real delivery. I'm glad we're not *there* anymore, and that if the guy had called back, we could have had a full tank. However, I'm also so thankful Zorak is the guy he is and does such a good job of providing what we need. (Now, if he could just find me a mental supplement, or a personal secretary, or *something* so I won't forget to check the darned tank next time!)

I have no idea what we'll be doing today. Zorak stayed up far too late last night drafting fence panel designs, so I'm sure we'll be ready to make some headway on those shortly. And the carport-that-wants-to-be-a-bonfire is much less creepy now that it's all cleared out and semi-functional. I was hoping to get some sewing done, but that's not looking like it's going to happen. That's okay. There's plenty to do in the meantime, and when the time comes, I'll be ready!

ACK, and they're heading outside without me! I'd better go.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Oh, they make me laugh.

The older two are working at the breakfast bar, finishing up their Latin. Smidge finished eating. He cleared his spot and ran down the hallway to finish getting dressed (why this is a two-part process, I do not know, but that's not the point of this post).

I heard John yell, "Walk!"

Now, the children tend to abuse any authority they might have over one another, so I try to discourage their desire to correct one another (even when they're right - yes, Smidge ought to have walked - John was just quicker on the draw than I). I'll allow it for life-endangering issues, but not for general purpose eye-poking. (There is a vain hope that if they know it's dangerous, then they'll be inclined to listen. This grand scheme, however, hinges on the others following that general pattern, which has yet to happen. And still, I persist. Go figure.)

So I said, in the same tone, "John!"

He replied, without skipping a beat, "Latin!"

Heh. Yeah. Latin.

They *know*. I know they know, because little exchanges like this tell me they've been listening. I have a choice: despair that they will never internalize and implement this knowledge; hope that eventually it will. sink. in.

I'm going for hope, today.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Stay Safe, Guys

Tonight we sat on the front porch, enjoying a balmy (over 70 degrees, 73% humidity, breezy - absolutely, unnervingly beautiful for February) evening. The boys caught several moths for the lizard. I cleaned and read a bit. It felt so idyllic. Then I checked the weather online.

Oh. My. Word. Tornadoes are ripping through the South tonight, and a good portion of the region is under watch until the morning.

So. Be safe. Stay alert. Check in, and then turn that computer off and go hide in the tub or something, okay!?!? ACK.

It's okay. Go on. No pictures tonight, anyway. Due to an unfortunate miscommunication in basic procedures (evidently the 9yo and I do not speak a similar enough dialect of the same language to communicate effectively) I had to reschedule the hair appointment.

Tonight, let's just all hunker down and get comfy in a doorway or two, and meet back here tomorrow, shall we?

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

There's Something to be Said for the "Grizzled Look"

Really, there is. I wasn't going to agree to pictures, because I wasn't entirely certain this could be fixed. So I rounded up all the baseball caps we own and contemplated asking Aunt B to sent me a really big, really gaudy sombrero from Juarez. I'm set for Spring!

As of right now, however, I have an appointment with a lady in the salon (actually, a different salon, but the same company - every time I called the first salon, HairGuy answered, and I panicked. I know, I'm a wuss. I accept that about myself.) This lady is supposed to be excellent with "color correction" (which is, I take it, a specific field within the hair-realm). So I'll see if I can get John to take some before and after shots. You're a sick bunch, you know that? ;-)

I do think, though, that after this incident I'm just going to let the wrinkles and the naturally bad hair come and ensconce me and call it good. Perhaps I can learn how to pack mules and hire out as a camp guide. Or I could tend the saloon in a re-enactment camp. There's always a use for our natural talents, if we'll just look for one.

Zorak suggested I go ahead and show you now, with this photo. (It's okay, I laughed, too. Then I choked on my coffee. I would have said it's more like this. But then I'd be lying. It's worse.)

And for the record, I'm just having a little fun with it. Yes, even my previous post was written with a grin. There is nothing that can be done to my head that will send me into tears or convince me the world is going to end. It's hair. It'll grow. Granted, a bad haircut grows only mildly slower than dying grass, but it'll grow. And if I'm going to stick with keeping it real, *whispers* this isn't the worst dye job I've ever had. Let me fill you in a bit...

1990: Henna. Yeah, bulk bin, mix-it-yourself, do-it-yourself Henna from the health food store. Did you know you *can* dye your hair calico? And your eyebrows, if you use the same mixture. And, did you know Henna doesn't come out without hardcore chemical warfare? It's true.

1993: my first experience with "cellophanes". In one fell swoop, my stylist chopped my then-golden (naturally golden, at that point) locks from waist length to a chin-length bob and turned what was left into something resembling an oil slick in a wet parking lot. It was a variegated eggplant, with hints of orange and purpley, and very, very shiny. It clashed horribly with my favorite fleece pullover (which had more red tones). I remember sitting at supper one evening with a gentleman friend who couldn't help but comment on the freaky irridescent halo cast by the romantic lights bouncing off the refractory of my head. He also bought me a different jacket to wear until the stuff wore off. Which, it never did. I looked like this for nearly a year. Evidently, my hair is terribly porous.

1996: I had red hair. Beautiful, Maureen O'Hara-style red hair. OH, how I loved it. Oh, how delightfully Irish and whimsical I felt. I loved having red hair. Until I picked up a different brand for a touch up. (It was on sale, and it looked the same on the box.) Turns out, different brands do not always get along. I spent the end of '96 and the first four months of '97 with what we affectionately refer to as "Biker Bitch Burgundy" hair. Lovely. And, wouldn't ya know it, that's the color it was in the last photograph taken of Mom and her four children before my sister passed away. So, yeah, there are 10x13 photos of this particular look hanging on several walls across the country. Nice, huh?

Spread out here and there are the inevitably bad hair cuts. The blunt cut Sphinx head. The Amazing Water Buffalo. The "so, were you mad at me" cut. The list goes on.

But amidst all that, I've managed to hold down jobs, pay for food and beer, expand my education, maintain absolutely fantastic friends (who all have a superb grasp on the absurd), find a delightful man (during one of my more normal phases, anyway - I don't know that he'd have come back to ask me to dance during the Irridescent Eggplant phase), and have children who love me enough to be honest with me when I make bad decisions. (Come to think of it, I can't believe not one of them shouted, "Bad Idea Fairy" when I walked in the door. Huh. I'd have thought that would be the most appropriate response, to be honest.)

Don't let a bad design presentation get ya down. Ever. It's not worth it.

Hopefully EmBaby Will By My Ally...

I *love* living in a house filled to the bursting point with male creatures. Really, I do. It's lively and funny (sometimes a little *too* funny). It's always active, creative, adventurous. It's also... um, brutally honest.

I made it to my hair appointment yesterday. HairGuy did all the work. I sat in my little chair, visited a bit, and read my latest brain candy. I don't know how to do what he does, so I don't try to follow along. Really, if your HairGuy is going to do something *wrong*, by the time you realize it, it's too late to stop it. Plus, there's always that doubt that perhaps it looks just fine and what you need is three days to live with it and adjust to the new look. (Am I right? I'm right.)

A house full of guys does. not. get. this.

I walked in and scooped up Smidge, gave him a big hug and told him how much I missed him. He pushed back a bit, furrowed his brow, and said,

"What did you do's to you's hair?"

I dropped him on the couch and wandered into the kitchen.

...Where Zorak started eyeballing my hair. I don't mean he admired it, or just looked at it. He eyeballed it like he suspected it of outlaw activity in an old Western mining camp.

"Did you pick that tone, or did he?"

(He did. I just sat there.)

He kept staring while he worked. A few minutes later, he could no longer resist and started picking at the front of it. My personal space was being invaded, and my vulnerability levels were already riding high (because it really is Very Very Light - much lighter than my borderline headcovering-like tendencies would have preferred - but I thought we'd already established that I didn't pick the tone.)

"Huh," he snorted. "You have a huge chunk at the front that he didn't get."

(Perfect. I didn't notice that when I'd left. Yet, notice I had not asked what he thought. I wasn't ready for that yet. Anyway, I'm pretty sure I'd have found the chunk, eventually, but right there in the kitchen, with Zorak rubbing teriyaki-covered fingers through my bangs was not the most comfortable way of having my hair critiqued.)

I wandered away to the school room to hide for a bit. James entered. He stopped dead in his tracks and did this wide-eyed, slapstick comedy, full halt that can only mean something painfully blunt is coming from a 9yo boy.

"What? Is? That? Are you going grey, or did you do this on purpose, Mom? You don't even look like the same Mom!"

(Yeah. Like you have any hope of ever dating with this approach, kiddo.)

"You know, how about next time, you just don't do that, okay? It doesn't look natural."

(It's highlights. It's highlights they had to blend into year-old highlights from another salon. I know it's not "natural". Nobody thinks this is my natural color.)

"Well, if you're going to do this..." (He starts messing with the hair on the sides.) "Why don't you try purple next time?" (There is something very wrong with the fact that I know he's trying to be helpful. I do get that.)

(I love you. And I'm going to go rearrange the food shelf in the basement, now. I'll be back when all of you are asleep.)

John? John may just have the mojo it takes to live with women. He never said a word. He smiled and acted like absolutely nothing was wrong. All. Evening. Good boy.

My hope lies with EmBaby, now. Will it come naturally, or is there some kind of indoctrination process I'll need to begin? And when should I start it?

I'll call the HairGuy today. He can fix the missing chunk, I'm sure, but the guys are simply going to have to adjust to the "tone" of my new hair for a while. (Which makes me laugh, because then I picture someone yelling at my hair, "You watch your tone, missy!" For the record, they don't get that, either. *snort*)

Kiss those babies!
~Dy