First Grade for Smidge

That's such a weird sensation. *pause to reflect how quickly it goes. pause, pause, pause* OK, not getting any easier. Let's move on, anyway.

He's pretty much following the path his brothers have packed down ahead of him, with variations to account for support where he needs it, and leeway where I wish I'd given it with the older two. Not a lot of "seat time". Plenty of "couch time". Lots of "outside time" (when it cools off a bit). This isn't Victorian England, and I don't have a stash of opium, so we don't have the pastoral scenes of young children learning that one might expect or desire. We have a lot of paper, tons of colored pencils and drawing materials, books absolutely *everywhere*, and I think there's Sculpey stuck to the bathroom wall. (I don't know how or why. I quit asking years ago.)

Science is Life. Particularly at this age. It's Parables From Nature. It's a magnifying glass and an afternoon on the floor with encyclopedias and Mom. It's drawings and rabbit trails. Leaves and seeds and flowers and fruit. Eggs and larvae and things you probably don't want in your home. It's antibacterial soap and a lot of deep, slow breathing.

Math-U-See Alpha is math for Smidge. It's his happy spot. He enjoyed Primer, learned plenty, and was anxious to start in his new book. (Comes by that last bit honestly. We all just love a fresh, new book, around here. It's almost, but not quite, a sickness.)

Music and Art are still a bit haphazard, here. Although we do still enjoy Artistic Pursuits and Meet the Great Composers, so he'll continue to use those in a light and painfully unstructured way.

For History, I feel like I ought to go back and start him with Vol. I of Story of the World. We had such a good time with that. Then I realize what a scheduling nightmare I'd be inventing for myself. It's not as if he hasn't been listening in along the way, and I have to remind myself (sometimes forcibly) that he's putting up pegs on which to hang future information. Since he draws Hammurabi cartoons, explains how a trebuchet works, and makes jokes about privateers, I'm guessing he's been listening - at least peripherally - and has been, quite happily, slinging pegs here and there along the way. So he's doing Modern Times with us, at a slower, softer pace.

For Reading, Phonics, Spelling, and so forth, I still cannot recommend The Writing Road to Reading highly enough. It is thorough, concise, and well done. And, with apologies to Ms. Spalding, I modify it to suit our needs. Smidge needs extra work on his speech, so this is where I put that in, too. More focus on speech, less on reading for him than is usual.

Copywork, copying the work you're reading together, is the absolute best at this age. Pick the things you enjoyed as you read. Write them out, let them copy, and then turn them loose to illustrate it. Some children love coloring books. So far, none of mine really have. Smidge seems the closest, but even he will draw his own illustrations quite happily. Put them up. I have no clue what color my fridge used to be. Someday, the weight of the tape, magnets and paper will pull the door off, I'm sure, and then we'll remove the pictures and narrations and copy work and see what it looks like. Before we cover it up again.

A note on reading. (Pardon me while I pull out my little soapbox. It's just a little one.) The reading comes. Whether it comes when they are two, four, six, or seven, it does come. Read aloud to them. Tell stories. Make up stories. Let language fill your days and nights. Create for them a world rich in literary texture, tastes, and images, and they'll want to make it their own. You've got a big old bag full of tools to share along the way, and yes, show them those tools. Explain how they work. But if it doesn't click, don't get angry or frustrated. Put the tools away and dive back into the words for a while. Try again later. Definitely keep your eyes open for places where there may be trouble, and address those spots if you find them, but always remember that reading is a gift we can cultivate in their hearts, as well as their minds. It's interesting to me that that's the one area I've never sweated, and it's the one area I have no/few regrets now that I'm in a position to start looking back. I have a horrible suspicion I'll find many other areas where I will wish I'd applied this philosophy a bit more soundly. (Sheepishly tucks soapbox back under the desk.)

Literature. Such a word! For the Littles, it makes it sound much less enjoyable than it is! There are book lists and book lists and book lists. I can't even pretend to know a tenth of what's out there, and when I try to collect it all, Zorak inevitably finds me curled up on the porch, feverishly figuring out what we'd have to sell or go without in order to BUY IT ALL RIGHT NOW. So. I try not to peruse more than one or two lists at a time. Zorak appreciates that, and so does my blood pressure. I like Veritas Press' reading lists, and of course, The Baldwin Project's books are big favorites, here, too. If you find something at Baldwin Project that you'd like to have in print, Yesterday's Classics offers many titles. We've ordered from them, and have always had great service. The books are decent quality softcover books. Lang's Fairy Books are also a staple.

For an all-in-one collection at this stage, the 20th Century Children's Book Treasury is my all-time favorite collection. It gets read, and read, and loved on and read. The binding is crap, and the book won't last through three children before Chicka-Chicka Boom-Boom and part of Swimmy fall out in the hallway. But I haven't found a collection of favorites like this anywhere else. Even Zorak got excited when we received this book, years ago. (Who knew he had such a soft spot for Sylvester?) Ideally, we'd all be able to buy all the books individually, but realistically that's an investment of almost $1,000 all said and done. And you know, if I'm going to lay out a grand for a book collection, it'll be the one *I've* been coveting for almost a decade now, thanks. This, however, does the trick quite nicely. And, as True Favorites emerge, you can pick them up here and there without giving anybody involved in the household finances a stroke. There's that.

Poetry. Don't scoff. (OK, go ahead and scoff, but come back. I'll wait.) Poetry. Charlotte Mason's educational philosophy incorporates daily poetry. As with anybody who has homeschooled more than, say, six months, I've read her papers, poked around Ambleside Online, fallen in love with it, and eventually abandoned it, in general, taking precious gems with me back to my eclectic educational cave. Poetry was one of those gems. It doesn't have to be dry or dull. Hilaire Belloc, Mother Goose, Robert Lewis Stevenson - whimsical, beautiful, rich poetry is available and wonderful for use in daily life. I can tell you this: the best year we've ever had, as far as routine, tone, flavor, and pace, was the year we incorporated poetry into our daily routine. We are bringing it back this year. It was that good.

The bulk of our school is reading, even at this age. When they're older, they read and we discuss. When they're younger, we read together and we discuss. When they're younger, I read to them and we discuss. It looks different at every stage, but you'd be hard pressed to find me, at any stage, putting us in a circle, clipboard on my lap, peering over imaginary spectacles as I toss out a topic and say, in the manner of James Lipton, "Why?" More likely is that Zorak comes home to find us piled up in the boys' room, or the living room, talking animatedly about whatever it was that struck our fancies.

Mostly, it's an organic flow of discussion. Questions, point-counterpoint, more rabbit trails, bantering, back and forth, and always, in the end, more reading. When you care what they think, what they liked, and what they got out of it, they know. And they're happy to share. This is what I'm talking about when I tell people that homeschooling is a lifestyle more than just an exercise in academics. It's how we do things, and who we are, part and parcel, inseparable. Sometimes, you'll want to bang your head against the wall, but not right now (I'll go into that more on the appropriate entry, later). Right now, it's all magic. It's all new and exciting and interesting.

And, I think that's about it, for First Grade.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy

The Sloth is Among Us

It's more of a mindset than an actual animal. (Lest anybody worry that we've taken to importing critters to, erm, supplement our income.) Although, in the interest of full disclosure, if you'd watched me from 2:00 to about 5:00 this afternoon, you'd have been hard-pressed to see any movement.

This weekend wasn't just hot. It was Hot 'n Sticky. I know, I know, Zorak helpfully reminded me that summer's almost over. (It wasn't helpful.) Add to that, our propensity for not being what one would call "Morning People" (so we don't get out and work early in the day), and you have the ready indication that we are also (as I've pointed out before) "Not Farmers". It is a miracle that we've harvested as much as we have from the garden. Once we found it among the weeds, that is. And after the flush of excitement wore off (about three seconds after the last item hit the bag), we mutinied against our Beloved Commander and headed for the house.

See, he has a work ethic that demands he get things done on the property, no matter how unholy the weather, or how miserable the conditions. So, although he may not get up and at 'em bright and early and go scattering cliches about the property, he still gets work done. Even if that means doing it in the hottest part of the day. While the children and I (lacking such ethic, and sweating profusely) keep edging nearer and nearer the house, keeping in the shade of the trees, in the hope we can make a break for it while he's on the other side of the barn.

I can't blame the boys for taking 30 minutes to "get a glass of water". They'd blow the glass, themselves, if they thought it would buy them some time. And, they do come by it honestly. You should see my lovely, hand-crafted ice cubes. I'm sure that added touch makes Zorak feel much better when he comes in, looking for us.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

New Game Plan

(Filed under: this is why we have nearly two decades to raise them...)

I'm getting a very low power paint ball set. When I'm on the balcony, talking with the Mortgage company or bank, I'm tagging anything that comes out that door.

When I get off the phone, everybody with paint on them gets sent to bed.

And splatters count, because that means you were close enough to intervene, but were most likely egging on targeted sibling.

Yep.

That's the new plan.

On the plus side, I think we've got everything now switched over to USAA, and we are so very glad to be just about done with Bank of America. The difference, thus far, has been amazing!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Not on Wednesdays!

We're not far from the dentist. We're not far from the music store. But the dentist and the music store are quite a trek from one another - the northeast corner of Huntsville down southwest, across the river, to the center of Decatur. And yet, in my head, Wednesdays are good days for scheduling appointments. In theory, we'll already be out of the house, so that's a good day. Maybe for other errands in the same town. But for the dentist? No. So, it was a long day.

This may have been the first visit we've had with no new cavities! The kids are completely un-impressed with the whole thing. I, however, am completely, idiotically ecstatic! We're talking irrationally tickled by such a little thing. It's been a good day, if only in my head.

We had lunch at a little blue plate diner in town before piano lessons. The kids have been dying to go. I'm not sure what's wrong with my children. Every time we eat at a restaurant where the food is mediocre, the service is questionable, and the cost is exorbitant (for the quality), they *RAVE* about it. Today was no exception, and they cannot wait to go back. Weee. (Erin, be ready. I'm sure they'll want to take the girls next time you all come out.)

After getting the car cleaned and filling up with gas, swinging by the bank, and the blowing off a couple of other stops we ought to have made, we got home just 15 minutes before Zorak today. Poor guy didn't get the homey welcome we shoot for. I've gotta go do the dishes. The kids are cleaning up ground zero erm, the playroom. We have no clue what to do for supper.

But it doesn't matter, because not only do the kids not have new cavities, but I remembered today to schedule the next dental checkup for the kids on a Tuesday.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Routine, Sweet Routine

The company and travel and more company of the last month has been so wonderful. Still, it's nice to be back in school (yeah, you can remind me of this is February, when all we want to do is sleep and take pictures of daffodils), and back to the daily grind of living.

We made it to church this morning, and managed to remember to take some of the hog we brought back from our trip down South. Pastor's going to try smoking it. Should be fantastic!

We'd planned to be productive when we returned home, but John's not feeling well, and I've been s-l-e-e-p-y, and the next things we knew, everybody who was still awake was already jammied up. So, we just played and snacked and read and snacked. Of course, come bedtime, the children (who had done little else but graze all day long) realized we hadn't eaten supper! So, of course, we had to have a "proper supper". (Could have fed them the same things they'd been eating all day, as long as it has been deemed An Actual Meal, they're good. Are my kids the only ones who do that?)

Of course, the rain stopped, but even that wasn't motive enough for us to get out there and work. It was just too nice looking out the window, doing nothing for a bit.

Tomorrow, we hit the library, switch out the laundry, and put our thinking caps back on for the week. Today truly was a day of rest. And togetherness.

I'd planned to be in bed long before now, but Zorak offered to fix up a little midnight steak and eggs for two. How could I resist? But it smells ready now, so I'm off!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

And So The Week Ends

Between the Scout-Fiasco thing, the Recovering-From-Travel thing, the Various-and-Sundry-Forever-Home projects, and our return to school, this week flew right by. It seems fitting to touch base on how quickly time always flies by, regardless of our activities or pursuits, and how we hope those pursuits serve us well in the end. In the blink of an eye.

Tonight, my baby, the one who cried and cried during the "Heavy and Light" song from Elmopalooza -- because he worried so very much about poor Elmo -- watched Tremors, and Tremors 2: Aftershocks. He laughed at the funny parts. He appreciated the suspenseful parts. He fell in love with the characters and spent the rest of the day coming up with ideas for Tremors 5 - 10. He dissected the features that go into creating the mood of a movie, compared and contrasted Jurassic Park to Tremors, and then begged us to let him watch The Thing. He'll still happily watch Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang and sing through the great songs and dance with his little siblings.

I'm struck by a few things. First, and foremost, Where Did My BABY Go? But later, when I'm done with my panicky fit, I also think, "Wow. Who is this well-adjusted, insightful, witty, intelligent young man?" Did we have anything to do with that? Or is he turning out this way in spite of us? And, "I'm so glad he's ours." Suddenly, that unfortunate incident with the bug net last month slips easily into perspective. The Big Picture is nice, and we are glad.

Obviously, when we see something good emerge, we hope to God it's us. When we cringe and think they'll never be able to live on their own, we look for some faulty ancestor on the other parent's side to blame it on. But the truth probably lies somewhere in the middle, and that's probably good. Heaven knows I don't want my Mom's Mom's Dad's Sister's issues to crop up, here. But if they do, we'll do our best to cushion the blow. On the other hand, if Zorak's Mom's Dad's brilliant mind happens to seep into the genetic blend, SCORE! And then, we'll do our best to prepare them to use it wisely and well.

No matter the situation, no matter the child, loving parents strive to do the best they can for the children in their care. That "best" will look different in every household, no matter how many windows you peek through. (Before you get arrested, that is. So, just take my word for it and don't do that, 'k?)

Tonight, we stocked up on movie choices for the Littles to watch in another room (no sense in scarring everybody all at once), and sat, watching our eldest child enter a new stage in his life. It was a very small thing, compared with the news of the day around the world, but in our world, it was a very big thing. And an important thing, that bodes well for so many tomorrows.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

On Making Improvements

I've been pretty quiet about our Cub Scouting experience thus far. I blogged about it once, but since have tried to focus on the positive. Instead, we've made a few adjustments to How We Do Things.

For instance, we have a standing agreement that when Zorak's out of town, I don't have to take the kids, mostly because it's just too much wrangling in that particular environment, but also because Zorak knows I'd end up with a police record after going berserk on the parents and leaders for the ridiculous behavior they allow. When he takes the boys to an outing, the entire drive there is spent prepping the boys to be aware of danger, look out for one another, and think-think-think before deciding somebody's suggestion is, in any way, a Good Idea. The list is a long one, but that pretty well sums up the overall gist of it.

This last campout was... horrific? Appalling? Still looking for words. Some of you have been gracious enough to listen to my tirade over the phone. From the poor communication, the coma-inducing menu, and the flipped tents, to the vandalized cabins and data test sites, bad attitudes (don't glare at me like I'm stupid when I tell you to do something your Den Leader has just asked you three or four times to do), rock fights, sugar napalm traps, and beyond, you've listened to me rail against the Stupidity. I thank you. My children thank you. And, since you've been kind enough to listen and empathize, you've been my pressure release valve, permitting me to think up *constructive* suggestions to pass on to the Leadership.

As fortune would have it, the new Pack Leader (who is also John's Den leader) emailed after the campout and asked for honest input. He's seeing too many families leave and not come back. He knows there's a problem, but he's new in this position and doesn't quite know how to pinpoint it. Or fix it. I was going to fill him in, anyway, on why it would be a Cold Day In Hell before we camped with them again, so I'm glad he asked! (Unfortunately, James' Den leader emailed that same day to say it was "the best campout yet", so I'm thinking he does not use the same dictionary we do.)

We've been busy this week. We've tried to identify where we can pitch in effectively. (All of us parents - or, at least the ones who recognize there's a problem - have been trying to pitch in from the beginning, since we "get" that these kinds of organizations are dependent upon parent volunteers, but it's tricky to get certain leaders to relinquish any role whatsoever. Even if it's one they never get around to doing. When you offer to take on that part, they tell you it's covered. This is an endemic problem, and not the biggest one.)

We've tried to encourage the new Pack Leader this week (you could. not. pay. me. to try to do what he's doing). And we've tried not to let our cynicism overtake our desire to do what we believe is right. It is SO easy to want to decide to just leave the little Fly Lords to their island and find ourselves another, less aggravating island. Maybe one with cannibals, or vampires, or perhaps necrotizing fasciitis.

Gah. The things we do for our children, huh?

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Summertime Summaries

It's summertime, and the frogs are out. The weather is hot 'n sticky. The kids are growing like weeds, and if the fertilizer I bought in the Spring (and then promptly neglected to put on the trees in time) wasn't still sitting in sealed bags, I'd swear they were eating the stuff.

We're back to school this week, and so far, that's going well. John still stresses over math, and loves history. James still cannot, for the life of himself, pay attention to case endings, but can re-write songs in different keys while he eats breakfast. Smidge is gung-ho to get into the groove, and I'm a bit excited to see what he loves and what he must wrestle with. Also thinkin' I should probably put in the rest of my orders at some point... Anyway, I'll post our plans and winners/losers sometime in the next few days. (I hope y'all are sharing yours! I'll have a spare minute sometime around Midnight, Friday, and plan to go frolick in other people's lesson plans for a bit.)

The dishwasher died, and although I've always appreciated it, I didn't realize how much it HELD. Er, holds. I could still, technically, fill it. But it takes three loads by hand to empty the thing. We must get it fixed, if only for the water conservation. As of right now, the boys still find the novelty of washing dishes by hand quite fascinating. All I've really had to do is stand there and chat with each boy, show him how it's done, and then chit-chat some more while he does it. Sometimes they let me rinse. Not like this is killing us -- one-on-one time, fun, learning, etc. -- but I'd like to get it fixed before the novelty does wear off and I'm left alone in the kitchen as soon as the tub fills with dirty dishes. Which is often. I swear, I suspect the boys are harboring orphans in their room somewhere.

And so, it's one thirty. I'm tahrd. Had more to say, but Zorak was shopping online and I started working on the socks I'm trying to crochet. (I may just run a string through the open end and tell the boys they are juju bags. We'll see.) The next thing I know, my eyes are watery and my head weighs a ton. I believe that's a sign that it's time for bed? Or that my brain is swelling and I need to see an optometrist. But we'll go with exhaustion for a thousand, Alex.

Night!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Campout, Complete

Shiloh Battlegrounds, the site of one of the turning point battles, a scene of horrific bloodshed, and an amazing story in the Civil War. This is where we hiked this weekend. We were fortunate to be able to listen in on a presentation about medicine at the last half of the 19th Century, although I wish we'd had the opportunity to attend more presentations. The Rangers who work there are a wealth of information and history, and do a beautiful job of maintaining that for posterity. I'm still processing much of the visit it in my head, so I won't go on about that. If, however, you ever have a chance to visit, please do so. Just, um, not in the summer. Gah. Hot.
Due to some pretty amazing miscalculations and lack of planning (thankfully, not on my part, this time! Woohoo!) we were only able to complete one hike. The terrain is easily accessible, but you must bring your own broad-shouldered man to carry you, if you so choose.

Or, you can arrange a convenient carriage to tote you about, as modeled by The World's Most Patient Baby.

The boys use the Buddy System pretty extensively in Scouts, so it's hard to get shots that don't have at least one other child (that I don't have permission to blog), and my scenic photography this trip was lacking a bit due to the carriage arrangement referenced above. However, it is beautiful, and powerful.

Still, we were all pretty glad to trudge back into camp at the end of the day. (Edited to add: Zorak was tired, not smug, in this photo. I didn't realize until I uploaded it that it might look a bit odd. So, you know, just touching base on that one.)

Just thinking about what it must have been like to march all the way from Indiana or Ohio, only to engage in battle upon arrival, absolutely boggles our pampered minds.

Humbled, thankful, and as always,
Kissing my babies!
~Dy

Who needs a bed?

We have got to get us one (three?) of these! Wow, what a fantastic addition to any outdoor space.

Of course, we wondered if we could make a hammock fairly easily.

Then we tried to figure out what kind of hammock would be best.

And THEN, I was talking with Melissa, who mentioned they have camping versions!

Well, let's just say that was several.

hours.

ago.

Zorak (not a camper) may not be as enthused as I am at this point.

But he hasn't seen this!

Still, maybe we should keep it simple, at first. I mean, who could resist this?


Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Home Again

We hung out the "gone fishing" sign, and then we went. Literally.

It's been a week of good food...

Beautiful scenery...

And relaxing time on the front porch...

Now, we're home. But I'll spare you any images of the laundry.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Mobile Blogging

Hi! Do I look all small & shiny? I`m blogging from the front porch at the Swamp! (`cuz we have cool friends who name their homes, too.)

But it`s not the Swamp that makes me look different. My guys gots me a preshuss for my birthday. (This is where I`d normally insert a picture or a link, but I haven`t figured out how to use this thing yet & I`m afraid I`d never get back to this page. So go look at the Verizon LG nv3. I`ll wait...)

Pretty cool, huh? Fortunately, it does not allow you to see me while I`m typing this. If you`ve seen Zoolander, though, picture the guys trying to get the files out of the computer. (pause) Yep, that`s it. It`s OK. I`m sure James will show me how it works soon.

I`m going to try to figure out the picture taking bit here next. Will update (or have James do it) later today.

Kiss those babies! (ksthzbbz?)
~Dy

Found it!

We found the upload cord! (Zorak found it. Right where we'd looked several times. Death by irony, I'm tellin' ya.) Anyway, there's no particular story to go with most of this. I've forgotten anything funny by now, too.

Here's Jase, looking incredibly tiny compared to the burn barrel. You can't see it in this shot, but to the left is the shooting bench, to the right is the burn pile (b/c some things just don't fit in the barrel), and to the far left is the carport-that-won't-die. The older boys saw the pictures from this series, and burst out laughing. *Now* they get why I make hillbilly jokes about ourselves, and not other people.
EmBaby planted something (we don't know what) as her tea garden (we can't find it), and she was very excited to drag each of us down to show us (it didn't do any good). However, I took the camera, and had fun watching her walk so daintily among the plants (this is James' corner of the herb/tea garden) in her wee bare feet and her ratty-headed hair. Which, for the record, we do brush daily. But sweat, and rambling, seem to do quite a number on baby fine hair. She looks feral ten minutes after she leaves the front porch. The bare feet probably don't help much, either, but she's made it a verb -- "Can I barefoot?" -- and I can't say no.

Me-Tae gave the Littles their very own pots to grow things in. They had a blast putting them together. And no, we weren't gardening in the dead of night. The camera's still wonky and wouldn't take non-blurry pictures without the flash. So, for your enjoyment, Zombie Gardening:

The Zombie Slayer, with his wooden stake? And, our dying tomato plants in the background. But don't look at those. Look at the beautiful green railings, and the non-child-killing, up-to-code pickets! Swanky, huh?

The infamous Vomitor 2000!

Really, this is a good summary. There are the normal things, the daily things. Kids forget that you really shouldn't wear the same shirt into town that you wore down to the creek. The laundry will. not. stop. I usually don't have any clue what we'll have for supper when Zorak calls to say he's on his way home (hence, the call/warning that I'm rapidly running out of time to figure it out!) And there just aren't enough hours in the day.

I suppose we could get more done. But then we wouldn't have pictures like these, and the memories that go with them. So, tonight it's leftovers and clean undies. Tomorrow, will bring chores and joys of its own. And I wouldn't trade this for anything.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Gates.

Gates are good. We have them on the balcony, now. Now, it does not matter so much that we do not have stairs. At least our beloved friends will not think we are trying to Off their small children. That's always a good thing, not just for the friendship, but for the small children, as well.

And the gates? They ROCK. Someday, I'll find the upload cord. (Shortly after I give up and buy a new one, so I should just do that Thursday, huh?) Then there will be photos. The gates are hung at the stairwell openings on the balcony. They provide a comfortable landing zone for those coming up the (eventual) stairs, and swing completely back to lie flush with the railing when open. They have awesome stops, so they don't go all wonky and lop-eared in five years, from being slammed shut by running children, and a support to prevent them from dangling awkwardly if the children get the wild idea to hang on them. (We give a whole new meaning to "child proofing the home", don't we?)

They're designed to blend perfectly with the picketed railings, and, since it was Zorak who did it, it worked, of course. Just fantastic. Now, if it'll not rain for a few days, we can get them stained!

We had company today, a lovely time. The kids and I worked our tails off this morning, getting the house out of the Condemnable Zone, and then kicked back and enjoyed the visit.

We did a little lesson planning. That's exciting stuff!

We watched The Princess Bride together, piled on the beanbags.

We had bean soup for supper, because nothing says, "I love you" quite like beans.

That didn't sound right.

But Zorak knows what I mean.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Pictures!

And they're stuck on the camera!

Got the software, and now we've lost the upload cord. Again. That settles it. I'm asking for an Executive Assistant for my birthday. Other than that I can't keep track of my own eyeballs, it's been SUCH a great week!

The mower, which I will refer to from now on as The Sea Bear (from Spongebob - "maybe he just doesn't like you"), is running. It will even start for me, as long as Zorak is on the premises. We mowed and mowed and mowed. I even mowed things that haven't been mowed before, just because I was afraid if I stopped, I'd never mow again.

We sucked it up and cleared the upstream side of the culvert. If it should now rain on a Sunday morning, we won't have to miss church out of fear that we'll be flooded off the property. Go us. (It only took two years! We're getting better!) It was pretty gross, and I loathe people who fling their trash out their car windows as they whiz along the street. Where do they think the trash ends up? Is there some roadside vortex that they think will suck it up and transport it to the dump? No. No, there's not. There's a little wind, maybe, and some momentum to overcome. But eventually it just lands, right there, on the side of the road, on somebody's property. Gah.

I'm sure I've mentioned it before, but I can't get over how much the kids are loving the tire swing. Unfortunately, they're also sick to their stomachs at least three times a day. Zorak and I can hardly stand to watch them spinning, spinning, spinning. Knowing that two of the four on the swing have a propensity for volatile reactions, there's no way we'd get on there with them. But siblings are trusting. Or forgetful. Either way, they all have fun together, then stumble back to the house to lie down for a bit before nabbing a bite to eat and heading right back out to do it again. (Yeah, I know. It's like they're *trying* to make it happen.)

We finally put new seed down in the front yard. Me-Wa had mentioned that lime will do magical things to clay soil. So, when we tilled in the leaves, we sprinkled a thin layer of lime, and whaddya know, Magical Things Happened! We have *dirt* in the front yard now! It stays soft, and dirt-like. There is hope that this year, we may grow something other than child-killing clover and dandelions around the perimeter of the clay moat. (Though the dandelions are welcome, the clover is not. And I'd love a break from the trekking in of the clay on the feet.)

Winter garden stuff is going in. Company is coming next week. (Wonderful Neighbors from Maryland are bringing our Wonderful Future Daughters-in-Law for a visit!) And...

WE GOT A NEW CAR!!! Well, new-to-us, new. It's an '03 Suburban, and it's wonderful. It starts on the first try, every time. And the a/c is cold all the way to the back. And the road noise is so significantly reduced that Zorak has started speaking to us on drives, again, now that he can hear. There's not a can of starter fluid anywhere near that thing. Ah, it feels So. Incredibly. Good. to know that the next time somebody hacks off something, or inflames something, or just rips something wide open, we can get to the ER before they loose all their blood. Yes, indeedy. I am blessed beyond measure.

Like I said, it's been a great week.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Firefly and Foliage

First, Firefly. That's pretty much how I've spent my free time in the wee hours of the night this week. How did I ignore that gem up to this point? How fun!

And then, Foliage. After a few weeks of relatively blissful, personally comfortable (yet botanically terrifying) dry weather, the rain finally came, rejuvenating both the Cambodian-style jungle, as well as the humidity. Well, *and* the meadows. Pretty much everything. We can't breathe in the humidity, and I swear you can actually *see* things growing, which is a little creepy for born and raised Desert dwellers. But then again, the oak trees above the balcony don't look like they're about to burst into flame, taking the house down in the conflagration. Eh. It's sort of a toss-up. In all, we're thankful for the rain, even with the accompanying humidity. Four years ago, I'm not sure we'd have said that!

Zorak's still battling the mower. He took it in to the mower shop last week. This was big, as he's not one for taking things in when he could do it, himself. However, he was stumped. The thing's getting spark, fuel, and air. It's got power. But it just. won't. start. He explained it to them. They looked at him with that semi-patronizing look professionals reserve for non-professionals, but he understood. It doesn't make any sense, at all. A week and $65 later, they called. They're stumped, too.

He kept at it, though, and has come further down the road of diagnosis. Today, he picked up another part for the mower. (At some point, we'll have a new mower, altogether! Kind of exciting.) Right now, though, we're just hoping for one that works, before the rest of the land gets reclaimed by the lush jungle foliage and we start losing children in there. The new part looks promising! Let it rain!

Kiss those babies,
~Dy

Happy 4th of July!

I would post pictures, but I haven't taken any all month. (How awful is that? I'll just leave three blank pages in the photo album and tell the kids to imagine what that month was like.)

James looks SO much better! He's very thankful, and we're looking forward to getting our ducks in a row for future incidents.

The Littles are all well, really. They don't seem to realize that Summer isn't the bestest season in the South. Silly children. They go out to catch frogs and swing on the tire swing and look for snacks in the garden. They play in the little wading pool in the front yard (classy, I know, but nobody can see us, and the back yard drops too many things to keep it clean). They eat otter pops and ice cream and take afternoon naps. Actually, I like Summer the way the kids do it!

We had a Great Adventure yesterday that I hoped would end in me going on and on about a new transportation tool. But, the word "adventure" is so stinkin' ambiguous, isn't it? So, I won't go on and on about it. Let's just say, it was another indicator of just how very differently Engineers and Non-Engineers go about doing things. Thankfully, the world needs both kinds. And nobody was harmed in the making of this Adventure. So. There's that. Maybe next week, we'll have news to report on that front?

Today we're going to a Tea Party. Or not. We haven't quite found the time to sit down and hammer out the plan. I've been going on and on about the Huntsville Tea Party. Zorak chimes in occasionally about the Decatur Tea Party. And the kids just want fireworks, regardless of where we go. My plan today is to get it figured out before noon, so we don't end up with option D, none of the above! :-P How will you be celebrating our Nation's Birthday? What are you most thankful for in this celebration?

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Rest is Overrated, Anyway

I should have cleaned last night.

James exploded. Head-to-toe, he is covered in hives. Or hive-like things. Nobody's sure. At first, we thought it was just mosquito bites. He had a handful of welts on his waistline. They looked pretty much just like the bites we all get from being in the garden or the yard. So, we put a little After Bite on them, he got dressed, and went to Scouts.

When Zorak picked up the boys from Scouts, he said the welts had absolutely blossomed in the hour or so they were there. Now, I don't know if he exploded after the meeting -- between dismissal and when he hit the parking lot? -- or if it happened during the meeting and nobody noticed (or felt the need to call a parent with a friendly, "Hey, your child is blistering up like he's gone ten rounds with stinging nettle and blister beetles. You might want to come get him.") I have no idea what took place. This is the first time we've dropped them off without one of us staying, and this happens. Argh. His face was swollen and covered in what looked like dry blisters or just big welts, and not an inch on his neck was visible beneath the welts. His arms looked positively scarred. I cannot fathom how nobody noticed.

We figured, OK, this is an allergic reaction to... Something. Gave him Benadryl, put him in the shower, then tanked him up on water. No improvement. More Benadryl. More water. Didn't get better, but he didn't get worse. He had no fever, no swelling other than his cheeks, no fatigue, no cramps, no trouble breathing or swallowing. At that point, just a nasty, welty-looking rash. Get a good night's rest, and certainly you'll feel better in the morning.

Well, just pass that Lousy Parenting Trophy this way, please. He awoke this morning looking worse than before. And by then, he was fatigued and tired and starting to look a little puffy. I threw him in a cool baking soda bath and called the doc, who made a spot for us on the instant. Juggle-call-finagle, and we were out the door, (thinking, as we toodled down our little farm roads that this is one of those time it'd be great to live in town. With neighbors right-there. Ah, well.)

The doc said, "Looks like he is allergic to... something." (Good to know we were on the right track, at least.) Got scripts for anti-histamines and steroids, cracked 'roid jokes in the waiting room, came home and collapsed. That did the trick. Two hours later, he looked markedly better.

Two hours ago, he relapsed. Blew right the hell up. Started a low-grade fever. And started wheezing, because evidently the whole thing lacked that little something extra that really makes for a fun adventure.

The doc said he'd meet us at the ER tonight if James' breathing gets worse (or the other list of symptoms that make the ER The Place To Be). Otherwise, he'll see us first thing in the morning.

Cool compresses helped a bit. So did a massive water push. There's nothing left we can give him, though, and that's pretty darned frustrating. He's not wheezing now, and when we put him to bed, his breathing was back to normal, but you can tell he's wiped out.

Zorak went to the market to get snacks. We'll tag-team tonight to keep an eye on him. But we're hoping that tomorrow, it will all be a weird fluke. And then, we're going to nap like narcoleptics at a relaxation seminar.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

It's Over!

I hope.

Had the surgery this morning to knock out the rest of the Death Star. This time through was a whole different ball of wax, on a few levels. Instead of being out for four hours, I was only out for one. Less bleeding, less pain, less nausea. Good-bye Joe? Oh, I hope!

The staff at Huntsville Hospital was fantastic, so that was the same. (I did get the lady again who refuses to use the word "urinate". She's very nice, and I'm sure she's quite capable. However, I'm also rather glad that they put her at the end of your stay, as the repeated use of the word, "pee-pee" just doesn't instill confidence.) Really, my only gripe about Huntsville Hospital is that it's not horribly clean. But the nurses are amazing. My doc is phenomenal. The receptionists and techs, everybody, really, is just great. Even pee-pee lady. And the doc prefers to use that one, because their Astroid-Shooter (as James calls it) is better than the one at Crestwood. All in all, good stuff.

Got home and crashed. The boys made me lemonade, since they know that's recommended for kidney stones. I'm so spoiled.

The Bigs had Scouts tonight, so Zorak took all five children, kicked the Bigs off at their meeting, and took the Littles to the park. So sweet. (And it is SO quiet.) It's wonderful to have the house so peaceful while I'm waiting for the meds to kick in! (Did I mention how spoiled I am? It's wonderful.)

Just... trying to fight the urge to clean. I haven't been alone in the house in ages, and it's so, so tempting. Must fight it. I guess I'll go read blogs for a bit. If I leave a loopy comment on yours, please forgive me. I'll try to get off the computer before it gets too bad.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Accomplishments, Big and Small

Big:

The pickets are up on the balcony. Changed the *whole* look and feel of it. Will try to get pictures. Someone's going to have to remind me to post before and after pics, though, because my brain isn't working properly. (I'm also working on obtaining grant money to prove my hypothesis that humidity clogs the synapses.)

Dad's old desk - circa 1940's, awesome, Ed Harris as a gov't agent, heavy, wood desk - has now been cleaned, refinished, runners sanded and waxed, and reassembled. Due to The Way I Do Things, it is already covered in stuff.

Basement progress is picking up speed. Zorak headed to the recycling bins with an entire pickup bed (long bed, at that) full of flattened cardboard boxes. The erstwhile contents are now shredded compost material, loaded up for a trip to the donation store, or filed away neatly.

AND, I vacuumed the basement.

Yeah, no kidding.

FOUND the disk for the camera upload software. Thankfully, as that model has been discontinued and Fuji no longer has any disks in stock. Big old vampire-killing silver bullet dodged, my friends. *whew*

Uploaded the 422 pictures we've taken since switching computers.

Most of them are blurry nostril shots, courtesy of the SmidgeCam.

Little:

Um, still can't figure out how to use Photoshop Elements. Not for a lack of trying. Must push harder on that grant money.

And, on a rather obscure note, we (the kids and I) cleaned out "the pen boxes". Picture, if you will, 70 years of writing implements shoved into desk drawers, all collected and bound in cardboard during various moves, just waiting for us to one day be so desperate not to have to go outside that we scrounged up scrap paper and plunked ourselves down on the floor to doodle our way through the pile. A surprising number of pens still worked. The totally, irrationally exciting part, though, is that we found two fountain pens!! You may not know this, but I have a teeny tiny obsession with stationery products. So, when I discovered they still have ink in them, and they work, and learned the histories behind them, and fondled them, and figured out that you can buy ink pots, and, and, and...

well, you just can't end a day of cleaning on a better note than that.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

It's not all nosebleeds and starting fluid

But it's felt that way.

We pretty much slept through Sunday, although we kinda-sorta made it to church. None of us was rested up. The Adults were a little off our game (namely defense), and the Littles were on FIRE. We sat in the back, which was a bad call, as EmBaby refuses to believe Pastor is talking to *her* if she cannot see him. She talked, hummed, sang the whole time. I suggested to John that perhaps she has Pentecostal blood. (The story being fresh in his head of the time I took my strict Southern Baptist mother to a FourSquare Pentecostal service, and the prophecy of the morning seemed directed pointedly at her, he got it.)

Zorak got even later on, though, when Jase started throwing things (mostly hymnals and Bibles, since I don't have a purse to ransack) into the aisle before I could react, and John had to bury his head between his legs to keep from cracking up. Zorak whispered to James, "Pretend we don't know them." Honestly, we are not usually an irreverent wrecking crew. We probably should have just slept in, in retrospect, but we were trying to the right thing. We hope to make it up at the pot luck this Sunday.

The rest of the week has been a bit of a blur. John's had a few nosebleeds, which is weird, since he's not a bleeder, really. We stayed home from the art-oriented reading thing, since we figured nobody would appreciate an impromptu exercise in hazmat containment. I keep checking him for other symptoms. Any symptoms. So far, nothing, but if it keeps up, we brave the malarial swamp to see the Wonderful Doctor.

EmBaby, Jase and I, all three, seem to have developed some kind of pre-summer narcoleptic superpower -- able to fall asleep at the slightest provocation any time between two and five. Thankfully, I haven't gone down while they're still up. But it's a struggle. I can only envision the Bigs taking wild advantage of that by eating all the chocolate chips in the pantry and playing video games until their eyes pop from their heads.

James has a new hobby. He's taken to mocking my first attempt at starting the car, loudly (and somewhat humorously, to be honest) wondering why I don't just pop the hood, spray it, and *then* try, instead of going the long way around. If I had a good reason, I'd share it with him. Totally irrational hope. That's all I've got. We thought we'd found a good replacement vehicle, but it turned out not to have the third row seat. Three of the five children balked at the idea of riding on the bumper buddy (Smidge thought it sounded fun), so we figure that extra seating is somewhat integral to the new car criteria. Still looking. :-)

And the days just keep coming and coming. I've got to go in for the follow-up on Joe tomorrow. (Thank God they called to remind me, or I'd have been wondering around mid-August if maybe I wasn't forgetting something.)

Meanwhile, the garden keeps on growing. The compost-raiding raccoons keep getting fatter. The pears are coming along beautifully and seem to have stopped dropping at a horrifying rate. The "blueberries" sign is out at the intersection. (We don't know for sure what's down there, and that's literally all the sign says, "blueberries". We suspect there is a pick-your-own farm somewhere down that road, but nobody in town seems to have been there. Ever. It's a bit odd, but now our curiosity is piqued.)

We did have a wonderful experience last week, though. The Suburban wouldn't start (not the wonderful part), and the starting fluid was empty (definitely not the wonderful part). I called down to the corner store to see if some kind soul would be willing to drive a can to us. (Because yes, we do live in the wonderful kind of small town where you can do that.) The sweet gal at the corner got off in a few minutes, and ran us up a can. *happy sigh* That's the wonderful part. It's nice to know you're only as stranded as the nearest helpful soul, isn't it?

I've heard it said it'll be the little things that break you, and to some extent, I think that's true. But I also believe it's the little things -- the humor, the kindness, the grace, the encouragement -- that get you through, and put it all in perspective. So, blurry as this week's been, it's been full of the right kind of little things, and that's good stuff.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Nine, not just a daydream, anymore.

John is nine. He has never been so happy to be a new age as he is to be nine. It's funny, though -- in my heart, he sort of hovered at five-ish, or six. But, no. He's kept on growing, changing, maturing, all the way to nine. He's huge. And still wonderful.

To celebrate, we had a BBQ. We invited a few families over for the day, and had a truly, completely, utterly delightful day of it. It was such a success, actually, that Smidge said he wants, "the same people, the same, exact group," to come to his birthday BBQ.

We're so thankful for the friendships we've all made. Good friends, which take time to develop. New friends, slowly growing into Good friends. Roots, going deeper and growing richer.

The kids ran down to the creek, up to the meadow, all over the balcony. They played video games for a bit (it was 97 degrees, and eleventy-hundred percent humidity outside - they appreciated the reprieve from the weather), then ran back out and shot their bows for a bit, ran amok a little more. The kids were funny and energetic and polite, and they tumbled from one thing to another seamlessly, moving from one activity to another either in one large lump or a couple of smaller herds. We were really impressed with how well the kids meshed together, and I know Me-Tae and I had just as much fun watching them play, as they did playing.

Granny was still here for the party, and I'm sure it was nice for her to see that the children don't spend all their time locked in a dungeon, doing school work and sweatshop labor. Even when you know that's not how it is, I think you still worry a bit when you live so far, and your son and daughter-in-law have adopted some offbeat lifestyle quirks. So, it's probably nice to meet the friends who influence your children and grandchildren. Plus, we enjoyed showing her off. She's a Very Cool Granny.

So now, having been duly celebrated and christened into being nine, he's feeling pretty big. Pretty happy. Pretty good. Last night, as he drifted off to sleep on the twitchy haze of a great day, he told Zorak it was his best birthday, ever. That's always nice to hear. Every year is special and precious, but for a parent, it's more momentous than the children will ever know. One year older, one year wiser, one year closer to the fledgling years. *sniff*

Next up, Smidge. But I have a couple of months to brace myself for that, thankfully.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

And then a week later...

Good heavens, where has the week gone?

Granny, brother-in-law, and his friend left tonight for a straight 20-hour drive home. It was hard to see them go, but the friend is anxious to be home. In the week he's been gone, his family has been under evacuation for wild fires, he had a ton of work come into his shop, and then one of his littles fell ill with a mystery illness. If you would, please say a prayer that they'll arrive home, safe and sound, with good tailwinds to urge them on.

I can't believe how quickly the week flew! The kids had a wonderful time, wallowing in Granny's affections. Granny had a wonderful time soaking up the children and all their joyful love. Zorak and I accomplished an unbelievable amount of work, since Granny was able to make sure the children were not starving, or killing one another, or dismantling the foundations of the house while we worked.

Granny said next time she comes, she's coming in April. Or January. Or the middle of the night. Whenever it's not hot'n'sticky. Poor Granny.

We got the first half of the stain on the balcony (seven hours of squatting, kneeling, and stooping -- my thighs feel like I've been chased cross country by Susan Powter), and we put up the first 80-thousand or so pickets. It's very nearly Jason-proof, if he stays in the corner that's finished, anyway, and looks spectacular. If you look in the corner that's finished.

We cleared enough limbs and vines and brambles from the creek bank that we unearthed a little sandy, beach-like area. It's full of dragonflies and spring frogs and birds. It's shady and quiet. We sat down with the kids, and it was so idyllic that it took an act of God to get us up and moving again. (Mosquitoes, to be precise.)

We hung a tire swing down by the barn. The kids have played more on that this week than they have on the swing set in the back yard in the last two years.

We found a bridge! There's a bridge across the creek! Four years here, and I'm pretty sure I never knew that. Zorak knew, and he swears I knew, but it didn't ring a bell with me, at all.

So, we're making more progress on the property. And I seem to be delving into early senility. Good to know.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

On reading, flasks, and limbs

Zorak was gone all last week. You'd think we'd have taken that time to be productive and industrious. Or get out and explore. Or maybe even blog. No? Good call. We did nothing. We ate, read, cleaned a bit, read some more, ate a bit while we read, napped... we accomplished a little less than diddly, without any squat. It was heavenly.

But he's home now, and Granny is coming. The kids are beside themselves with anticipation. They're also lobbying for a calendar that's marked off in hourly increments, so they can tick those off, instead of having to wait for an Entire Daaayyyy to pass, first. The wait is killing them.

Meanwhile, the preparations are killing me. Not so much for Granny (although I do want to have the house clean for her, she knows I'm no Donna Reed, and I'm lucky to have a mother-in-law who is coming to see us, not the house). Moreso because Zorak's brother is bringing a friend-we-haven't-met-before. And while you don't mind family seeing your general squalor, it's a totally different thing for a stranger.

Come to think of it, I wonder if that's why he's bringing a friend? That's a pretty good way to make sure the accommodations are tip-top, eh? Hmmmm. I need to find a stranger for our next big trip...

Either way, it worked. I finally (almost a year later...) got the elastic and velcro on the couch slip cover. Might even wash it, if I'm feeling motivated tomorrow. And while I had the couch upside down, I was able to talk Zorak into fixing the broken leg. (Happy Coincidence, or Brilliant Design? You decide.)

OK, happy coincidence. You know us well, my friends.

ANYway. The Summer Reading Kick-Off was not bad. They had a ventriloquist who focused mostly on books, stories, fairy tales, etc. He was engaging, and good with the kids. Just as I was thinking we'd get out without a visit from the Bad Idea Fairy, they passed out otter pops immediately after the performance. Otter Pops. For the kids to eat *inside* the library. I made our kids put them back while we made our book selections, and then twitched my way across the library, watching all the other kids slurping, dripping, and flinging their way amongst the books. Why not set the cooler by the door, and hand out the goodies as people leave? Thinking about it still makes my eye twitch, almost a week later.

I'm toying with the idea of taking the kids to Shakespeare on the Mountain. They're doing The Merry Wives of Windsor, set in 1950's Miami, "with tributes to American TV Classics". I'm not a purist... but, evidently I'm close. I can't quite get excited about this one. Still haven't made up my mind. There are only two more show dates, though, so I've got to decide soon. James would love it, regardless. John might enjoy it. Smidge is happy, no matter what we do, as long as he's involved. Or gets a passable alternative to enjoy.

One would think, considering the amount of decluttering I've done (not last week, but today, at any rate), I'd have found my camera software. But, no. It looks like I'm going to have to call and beg them to send me a new disk. Maybe they can throw in a better filing and storage system, while they're at it? That'd be handy.

OK, morning comes early when you don't get to bed until it's on the porch.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Gah.

The Summer Reading program start date is upon us. The last few years, it wasn't too bad. Required no actual changes on our part, other than simply recording what we read, instead of just reading it. OK. But this year, they're requiring that we attend some hohah twice a week. And they're doing "themes" each week. Themes? Is this tied to the reading, or is this simply something "new" from the enthusiastic librarian? They've released no actual information, but it looks like it's just "something new"! (New librarian. Very enthusiastic. Perhaps overly so. *shrug*) I had no intention of doing it, but they put up ENORMOUS signs all over town. And, since two of five can read, well, I'm stuck.

I'd rather just stay home, read books, make our own pizza. For one thing, I'm always up for a reason to buy more books! For another, it's hot out there, why not stay in?

And getting back to the themes thing... arts & crafts (because I just don't have enough junk laying around my house), movement (in a tiny, one-room library, I'm thinking this is not the best activity), music (I'd rather stay home and read, or introduce the kids to John Prine...), and finally storytelling and drama (ah! the only one that's conceivably connected to reading!) Twice a week, they want us there. This may cause me to miss the old plan, which was pizza coupons for our local pizza joint. I never thought I'd look fondly on those days.

Lest you think I'm getting cynical, a little background on that. Our local pizza joint has... some serious issues. Their buffet is smaller than your average apartment kitchen counter. And yet, it takes up a huge proportion of the eating area. Not really a big deal, just don't order the buffet. But they love to have karaoke nights (complete with equipment that takes up the remaining space and makes getting to the bathroom an Olympic track event). And sports nights (creating a unique "surround sound" atmosphere, accomplished by turning the volume on each cheap TV up to full-on distortion level). They leave the doors open, so you freeze in the winter and have to battle the flies in the summer. If they hired a guy to pee in the corner occasionally, it would be a lot like being in NYC on a major holiday.

So, if you need something to do today, swing by the library. I'll be the one in the corner, twitching and trying to hide the flask.

Scouts and Ball

That's it. See you the end of June.







OK, I'm kidding. It's nearly over. But that's not too far off from what our schedule has looked like the past month.

Smidge's team took their Division Championship today in a back-to-back gruel-a-thon. 15 minutes between games! (Who scheduled that one??) But they hung in there, and nobody puked. Hallelujah! They play for the County title on Tuesday, and, being five and six, they are excited about that, when you mention it. But for the most part, they are focused on having a Team Party! PAR-TAY! WOOHOO! Partypartyparty...

John's team went all the way to the County Championships this year. They played their wee hearts out, and they have coaches who are all about doing your best -- that's a winning combination, no matter what the scoreboard looks like. We have a team of boys who have just thrived under that guidance, from the ones who hustle like there's no tomorrow, to the ones who still can't quite manage to make the bat connect with the ball, they are a team. And they did well. They lost the final game today, placing second in the County, and maintaining their Division Championship status. That is one tired bunch of boys. Thankfully, next up on the schedule is the Team Party! PAR-TAY!! (Yes, some things don't change, no matter how old they get.)

James and John had Cub Scout camp this past week. To them, it was an amazing, magical, wonderful, fun-filled week. To Zorak and I, it was something entirely different, entailing transportation schedules, an inordinate amount of laundry (who assigned the *one* t-shirt they give the kids as the daily uniform for camp? Obviously, not the person who does the laundry), and a lot of seemingly wasted time. Adults look at things through a completely different set of lenses, don't they? I know that's how it should be, or nothing much would ever get done and humanity would die off from starvation and the fumes from dirty laundry. Still, sometimes I think it would be wonderful to look at opportunities through the Kid Lens rather than through the less-thrilling GrownUp Lens.

Maybe a combination? Perspective Bi-focals, for all of life's opportunities? Think there's a market for that?

We better get on the R&D for those, because the boys now want to have their own Camp in the upper meadow, complete with tent camping, cooking on the fire, and athletics. Smidge informed me tonight that "Dad gets to come, too!" Heh. Gets to...

I'll let you know how that goes.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

The Others

Man, we lived the life of Other People yesterday - the Other People who are always on the go, always heading to another place. No wonder so many people are cranky! They don't have time to stop and smell the silk flower arrangements, or curl up for a few chapters in a good book "just because", or to sit down around the dinner table and enjoy the good company necessary to ensure good digestion. It's safe to say that we would not make good Other People. We don't move that quickly, and it's hard to move-and-read without getting hurt. And we truly need our familial gathering time, or all gastro breaks loose.

James and John have Scout Camp this week. They are having a blast with it. I am a little ooked out by having to pack lunches and send them out the door at 7:30 in the morning. No AM piano practice? No coffee on the balcony, listening to the practice? No jokes over breakfast? (Well, there are jokes, but not ones that make any sense. The Littles are funny in a different way, Charlie Brown.) 90% of the noise in the house is... gone.

John had a tournament game last night at 5:00. In another town. This was actually doable, except that he was so tuckered out from Camp that he fell asleep on the ride home, stumbled into the house and slept on the couch until I sent him to get his uniform on. He staggered back to his room and fell asleep on a bean bag. (I'm pretty sure he just fell over, and remained where he lay.) By some miracle, he got dressed and loaded both self and bat bag into the car. Then he curled up and slept all the way to the ball park in another town. DANG. That was one. tired. boy!

He played a great tournament game. Since it was just he and I, I got to sit up front with the other team Moms, and cheer until I went hoarse. I've never been able to enjoy a game like that before. We didn't get home until after 8:00! That's a 12-hr day! Yuck!

Thankfully, today is only be a short day. James asked if they'll at least be reading. I didn't tell him that it's all part of our evil plan, to make them want to read and study, even when it's not a formal part of their education. That might make him suspicious of all the books on the shelves... (but I am glad he likes a little light routine - that's good for the clutter, not to mention the soul). We'll walk by the creek (now that we can reach it), and we'll enjoy a nice, long supper together, followed by a little reading before bed.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

A Weekend To Remember

The first words Zorak spoke this morning were, "I'm getting old, aren't I?"

And men say we ask no-win questions? I wish he'd just asked me if his jeans make his butt look fat. I mean, technically, yes. (On getting old, not looking fat. He looks great. And I know better than to ask - either question.) The whole birthday observance does tend to note such an accomplishment as surviving another year. That yearly survival thing is tantamount to getting older.

But on several levels, I do wish he'd be a bit more cheerful about it. First, it beats the alternative. Second, um, I'm not far behind, and I'd rather not face my ensuing birthdays with the fear that he thinks I'm getting old. Gah. Way to set the bar, honey. Happy Birthday.

Zorak half-jokingly confided that he has a plan to arrive 20 minutes late for church, which puts us in about halfway through the opening prayer. PCA'ers do love their corporate prayer, that's for sure. We nailed it today, and slipped in (as quietly as seven people can slip into a completely silent room that has no sound dampening). Church was lovely. You know you have a good preacher when the verses are Genesis 46:8-27, and he can actually make an interesting, applicable sermon out of it.

We spent the rest of the afternoon trying to convince ourselves that we should go out and work. But it was "warm" out. And when it stopped being "warm" (yes, I'm using euphemisms), the "vampires" were out. So. We stayed inside and worked. Hung out. Played a bit. It was, after a holiday of sorts, right?

James lost a tooth this weekend.
John lost two teeth this weekend.
Smidge is just dying of anticipation over tournaments and the team party.
Jason FINALLY started walking today.
Emily is one tired child, trying to keep up with her brothers.
AND, I have to find the disks for my camera, because this computer doesn't have the stuff it needs to upload pictures from the camera or the memory card. So, no pictures just yet. (If you know where I've put it, though, please shoot me an email, okay?)

And so ends another weekend. As usual, we did not accomplish all that we hoped we would. We did accomplish the important things, though - time with the kids, and getting the skivvies washed for the week. Good stuff, that.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

The Non-Agrarian Report

I don't know why we're doing this. I really don't. Zorak's pretty good at it, but what made him think I would be of any benefit is beyond me. The man obviously didn't marry me for my farmwife skilz.

There's a tree, down in the meadow, a huge, sprawling tree, that's been left to its own devices for such a long time. After "the mowing" (accompanied by "the twitching", and that one point where a blackberry bramble came up behind me and stuck me in the neck, and I nearly flew right up over the front of the mower, thinking I'd been nailed by a cottonmouth...) well, after all of that, and a few days to recover what's left of my dignity, I realized the tree is no longer nestled into anything, but stands proudly in the middle of the meadow.

It could have quite a bit of character, I thought. If properly trimmed, it could offer more than just a place for ticks and snakes and whoknowswhat to hide, but it could also provide a shady place to the babies to play (but not with the snakes), and for us to rest during the hot summer days.

So once again, my flights of imagination overruled my common sense, and I got out there with trimmers and clippers and a saw. I'll get pictures today. I swear to you, I think it's a poison ivy TREE. I kid you not. John was with me, and I warned him to stay away from the poison ivy. But then we noticed it was everywhere. Then we noticed it was not growing *on* the tree, it was growing *out of* the tree. As if it were the tree. Huh. Weird.

Since I haven't reacted to poison ivy yet, I set John loose to hack down the stuff the mower couldn't take down (it is so nice to have a child proficient with a machete, weird as that may sound), and I got to work. Got all the lower limbs, got the suckers off, and then I scaled the tree to start working on the upper portion. All was well, until I realized the tree was absolutely *covered* in little bitty caterpillars. And spiders the size of my thumb. And poison ivy vines. Not a realization you want to come to, twenty feet up in the air.

I'll skip the part about calling for a spotter, but I will say Zorak has learned a lot about working with the less-capable in the field. He remembered to warn me before he grabbed hold of my leg to steady me. Heaven knows I might have panicked and scrambled up to the top of the tree, thinking I'd been nabbed by a rare Alabama Python! And it's hard to blog from the top of a tree.

The children have also learned to at least wait until Mom's back on the ground before you start snickering. Although John did offer to go up for me next time.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Saturday

Well, that was odd. Tried to hit "enter" and posted an empty post, instead. And here, I thought I'd had enough coffee to get started today!

The boys are off on a Cub Scout hike. Three miles in the mountains. It's a gorgeous morning, and both Zorak and I are railing a bit against the fact that I'm the one who loves early mornings, getting out of the house on Saturday, hiking, (he just... doesn't) and yet he's the one co-opted to go this morning. I suggested we all go, but the idea of carrying Jase and EmBaby three miles in the mountains didn't really appeal to either of us. Then I thought perhaps I could go, and he could stay, but the boys expect Dad to go, if he can. Plus, he enjoys seeing them enjoy themselves. That's one of the things parenthood does: you do things you may not enjoy, just for the smile on the children's faces. It's a wonderful kind of selfishness that makes me love him all the more.

And so, the Smallest and I are home, wondering what to do next. I hate the thought of tilling or mowing with only the Littles. Maybe we'll just go dig. Or prune. Or gather limbs for a bonfire. Or maybe just ride around the property on the wagon? Since Zorak fixed the Little Red Wagon, we've had a lot of fun hauling children and limbs and more children and the occasional plant.

What to do with a quiet Saturday morning?

So late! Not sleepy!

It is a sick bit of humor, this whole technically not being nocturnal thing. Gah. And it only gets worse as summer approaches. (Although today, I had to give kudos to Zorak and I. It is the end of May, and there we sat, side-by-side, out in the yard, not complaining. Four years ago, by the end of May, we'd stopped venturing outside at all, let alone for leisure.)

Thank you for the great food ideas! I'm excited about trying some, and y'all got me lookin' for fun and feeling groovy. (I'm also trying desperately to get another song out of my head, so please forgive any further random lyric placement. It's all I've got, unless I want to go wake up one of the kids and make them talk to me of other things until it goes away.)

Zorak is the KING, folks. He rocks, and somehow, some way, managed to get the mower running. (And, as an added bonus, it now seems to be impervious to my diabolical efforts.) I mowed for two and a half hours. My butt is still numb, seven hours later, but the lower meadow looks almost great! Best. News. All. Week.

In his spare time, he has also been building me a pantry shelf for the basement, to replace the plywood and plumbing tape one we scabbed together two years ago. That one served us well, but it's a little ugly. And, being comprised mostly of scrap, it's a little saggy at this point. This new one's purty. And strong! It has a metal screen back, and doors up top, and will fit everything from coffee cans to five gallon buckets to coffee bags to canned goods and even those little sacks of coffee beans. To celebrate, I think I'll do groceries tomorrow!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Productivity and Ruts

Sometimes, I have no idea how we accomplish anything at all. It's just sort of a mystery, to be honest. And yet, we had a productive day, and are looking to have a productive rest-of-the-week. It's a mystery I'll take!

The mower is now working again. So says Zorak. I will believe it when I've mowed more than a quarter acre with it and haven't broken it (again). Why, yes, I am starting to develop a bit of a complex regarding my effect on lawn equipment. Bless him, he says it's not my fault. Every woman should have a man who is willing to say that. Even if there is nothing to indicate that it's true. It's still Very Sweet of him.

Speaking of my Very Sweet Man, I need some summer meal ideas. Normally, we have a full repertoire that we enjoy eating, enjoy preparing, the whole shebang. But lately? Meh. On all counts.

When I have a plan for supper, it usually leaves Zorak thinking he should have hit the buffet for lunch that day. He is never, ever ungracious about it, but you can just feel the disappointment radiating from the phone as he manages to choke out, "Oh. Yeah. That'd be fine." It's deflating, for both of us.

Of course, when I figure we'll just wait 'til he gets home and then figure it out, that's the day something exploded at work, or didn't get signed in triplicate, or whatever, and he never had a chance to eat lunch. (Considering he does not eat breakfast, this means he arrives home ready to eat laminate flooring and wash it down with cold bathwater, if necessary.) Also somewhat deflating.

If this could reasonably be called "a rut", we are stuck in it. I suspect we are too close to it (or not hungry enough yet) to sort through it quickly and subjectively. Everything we came up with that sounded remotely good for the next two weeks' menu centered on wintery, thick, body-warming meals. Probably not "just the thing" for heading into Southern Summer. So I thought I would beg for help from my fantastic readers.

Help?

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Hoo boy.

Autumn Ridge Nursery.

We're going in.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Man, alive!

Today was one of those sumo wrestler days. One of those skulking, sumo-gone-bad, street thug wrestler days that began with a cranky repairman, a vomiting toddler, and an attack of stream-of-consciousness monologue torture from one of the children. Thankfully, we are a crafty bunch and we managed, by working together and refusing to take ourselves too seriously, to slip away from the insanity and survive somewhat unscathed.

The weather was absolutely gorgeous ALL DAY! As a result, the kids accomplished very little in the way of school. They'd no sooner finish a chapter or a review, as they'd slip out to frolic in the trees and meadows. Granted, I can be a bit of a slave driver when necessary, but even I didn't have the heart to drag them back inside on a day like today. There'll be plenty of time to work in August, when none of us wants to move.

Tonight it's downright chilly. I'm tempted to sleep on the balcony, happily shivering into the early morning hours, if only because I know that come August, cool nights will be only a taunting memory, right alongside the days of choosing to be outside in the afternoons. Of course, since I cannot think of a way to explain my cold, dew-covered, balcony-dwelling self to my Beloved, I'm opting, instead, to stay up far too late with the doors open and the fans on, in the hope of luring the cool air into the house. I'm too cold to type well, but it feels SO nice!

I called and got the specs on sending the camera in for a cleaning and repair, so it'll go out Thursday. Hopefully, it'll soon be back and functional, and I got PHOTOSHOP ELEMENTS and cannot *wait* to try it out! (It was a Very Thoughtful Gift. I'm hoping to manage to get some frame-quality pictures out of it, to have done up nicely and given as a Thank You. That sounds so lame, written out, but in my head it sounded better than a pint jar of apple butter...)

And that's about it. Smidge's team won today's game. No more ball 'til Thursday, so we plan to work like industrious little farmers between now and then. TONS of gardening/farming/Forever Home news, but it will have to wait until I'm done reveling in the joy of being chilly just one. last. time.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Fences and Neighbors

Either our neighbors are going to have to get a grip on their chickens, or they are going to have to accept a certain amount of depredation on them. Either way, something's got to give. The chickens scratched the tea garden to pieces. They also went nuts on my oregano plant. I think that whole section of the yard is now in shock.

As I patted the plants back into place and put the mulch back where it belongs, I found myself thinking dark thoughts, like chicken stock and chicken casserole and chicken taxidermy.

We got everything put to rights, though, and then enjoyed the rest of the day. Church was lovely, and nobody fell asleep. We came home to rain, off and on, so we did pretty much nothing other than play Quiddler, watch a movie, and do laundry. Zorak grilled during a break in the cloud cover, and we enjoyed kabobs and beans for supper.

One wouldn't think one would be quite so wiped out by such a low-intensity day, huh? Surprise! I'm beat! And so, to bed.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Life in the Spring: Ball and Gardening

Mondays through Fridays:
Wake, eat, study, eat, baseball, eat, bed.

Saturdays:
Wake, eat, baseball, baseball, baseball, eat-until-we-pass-out.

Sundays:
Wake, eat, church, work on the Forever Home, eat, bed.

This is why monks don't usually blog. It's very difficult to make that much unyielding routine sound interesting.

John's team finished their regular season today. They ended the season 10 and 3, a respectable finish. Tournaments begin at some unspecified point in the future, and they're a strong team going into it. I think they've got their eyes on the Championship. John really wants to see his name on a banner at the fields. :-)

Smidge's team is sitting at 8 and 1, with a make-up game to be played tomorrow. They have Unspecified Tournaments, too. Hopefully at the same fields as John's team. Then we're done. For the Spring. Fall Ball registration starts during the Tournaments, though.

Right now, Smidge says he wants a break (he loves his Mama), and John says, "Of COURSE I want to play Fall Ball!" (I tell myself he still loves me...)

We've had total failure on both apple trees this year. No clue what happened, but there's only one apple between the two trees. The pears are thick, but now we're getting "June drop". We suspect they're too heavily laden to handle the load. I don't know if it's too late to fix that. If it will ever stop raining (and we aren't at the fields when it's not raining - farmers cannot play baseball, that much we've learned), we'll thin the fruit and fertilize and see if that helps. Regardless, we've definitely decided to add more fruit trees to the Forever Home. Hopefully, a wider variety of fruit will help offset bad years like this.

James put in a tea garden. He started with just three plants, but hopes to have about six or seven varieties once he gets it established. It's darling, and we're looking forward to enjoying tea from the garden!

We have herbs in, and the Earth Boxes are planted with peppers, tomatoes, and lettuces. (I know, it's a little late for lettuce. Like I said, baseball and farming... not so much for the unorganized.)

OK, ok, you got me. It's us. We just don't know what we're doing, and we aren't organized enough to multi-task efficiently. Ah, but at least we're learning as we go, and enjoying the company along the way. That's something, right?

We'll be back to our regular, less-routine routine soon!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Too Good Not To Share

Got these from Me-Wa (Ward). Some of them made me laugh so hard!

1. AVOID CUTTING YOURSELF WHEN SLICING VEGETABLES BY GETTING SOMEONE ELSE TO HOLD THE VEGETABLES WHILE YOU SLICE.

2. AVOID ARGUMENTS WITH THE FEMALES ABOUT LIFTING THE TOILET SEAT BY USING THE SINK..

3. FOR HIGH BLOOD PRESSURE SUFFERERS ~ SIMPLY CUT YOURSELF AND BLEED FOR A FEW MINUTES, THUS REDUCING THE PRESSURE ON YOUR VEINS. REMEMBER TO USE A TIMER.

4. A MOUSE TRAP PLACED ON TOP OF YOUR ALARM CLOCK WILL PREVENT YOU FROM ROLLING OVER AND GOING BACK TO SLEEP AFTER YOU HIT THE SNOOZE BUTTON.

5. IF YOU HAVE A BAD COUGH, TAKE A LARGE DOSE OF LAXATIVES. THEN YOU'LL BE AFRAID TO COUGH.

6. YOU ONLY NEED TWO TOOLS IN LIFE - WD-40 AND DUCT TAPE. IF IT DOESN'T MOVE AND SHOULD, USE THE WD-40.. IF IT SHOULDN'T MOVE AND DOES, USE THE DUCT TAPE.

7. IF YOU CAN'T FIX IT WITH A HAMMER, YOU'VE GOT AN ELECTRICAL PROBLEM.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

A Truly Exciting Day

Zorak headed off this morning to keep the world safe, and the mortgage paid (he's got mad multi-tasking skilz) while the Small Ones and I got to lounge about, reading literature and discussing Latin declensions (we do not multi-task, which is why it took us all morning).

It got exciting later, okay?

We had one of those Gosh-Why-Can't-They-Schedule-Games-Around-Sibling-Groupings evenings, when Smidge had practice in town, and John had a game at the same time, out of town. Gargh. We have trouble finagling those even when we're both in town (mostly because Zorak and I waste a good hour trying not to make eye contact while we both pretend we don't mind driving "all the way down there", knowing full well we'd both rather be home in our sweats, watching Netflix - so, it takes us a while to draw straws and get on the road). Since there was only me to avoid making eye contact with... um, myself... I called on the kindness of John's coach to let John hitch a ride to his game in Falkville (the town that takes its baseball Very Seriously), so that Smidge wouldn't have to be abandoned at the park for some unknown period of time while I fine-tuned the Cellular Transporter and Astral Travel Machine.

OK, no, I don't have a Cellular Transporter. Or an Astral Travel Machine. Though that'd be pretty durned cool, wouldn't it? I do have a Cellular phone, though. And we hit the ATM. Oh, and starter fluid, which I pretty much need 80% of the time, now, if we actually need the Suburban to get somewhere. Anyway. After Smidge's practice, we headed down to catch what I thought was the last 15 minutes of John's game.

I was So. Wrong. They were at the top of the fifth (they only play five innings, so, theoretically, the end of the game). The field was muddy, the ball was muddy, the bats were muddy, and the kids were muddy. It was nasty, and I can't believe they played. (I told you they take their baseball Very Seriously!) The score was 1-0, Falkville. Dang. That's so... wait, what's this? Four runs! Wow. Nice!

Falkville came up to bat and got three runs. Score's tied.

(Does this mean we can't go home yet?)

Why yes, yes it does.

THREE innings later, the game ended with a single run. 5-4, victory for John's team. Even James, who pays NO attention to the games, was riveted to the fence. I don't think I've ever seen two teams scrabble so hard for every little run, every out, every play. I'm tellin' ya, every child on that field today should be proud of what he accomplished. It was amazing. We didn't get out of there until 8:30!

We piled back in the Transporter. And, it failed to transport us. The miraculous starter fluid even failed me. Finally, we had to get a jump to get going. Then, that wasn't enough - the Suburban choked and died backing out of the parking space, and we had to get another jump. Gah. How embarrassing. In the dark. 45 minutes from home. At night. With all those kids in the car. And did I have snacks? NO, we ate them while waiting for Smidge's practice to end! Talk about lack of foresight. We really must procure a replacement vehicle soon. And hide more snacks in the car.

I need to take some Thank You Goodies to the wonderful friends who hauled a child, and the other wonderful friends who bailed us out of a pickle. Yup. Wonderful People. We are Very Fortunate, indeed.

We have to go back tomorrow, for Smidge's game, and I don't wanna!

We came home, ate hummus and pita bread, and everybody crashed. I think Smidge may have fallen asleep with floss still stuck in his teeth. That was one tired bunch of kids! This Mama is tired, but wired, so I do think I'll curl up with some ice cream and a Netflix and decompress before turning in. Sounds like a plan!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Rained In

We planned to go to church this morning.

But the creek is right at the upper edge of the drive.

It's raining... still raining... looking to rain even harder by lunchtime.

It'd be no fun at all to get out, but not be able to get home.

And so, we're rained in for the day.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Springtime

We have glasses full of flowers all over the house. It's beautiful. Tulips, roses (well, A rose - the first rose of the season), irises, and whatever those things are EmBaby's holding. They've lasted the longest. I suspect that's because they have the roots still on them. The dandelions don't last long, but everybody's made a wish, now. The clover are on the porch, much to EmBaby's dismay, but they make James so sick. So, clover bouquets on the porch were a compromise.

It's beautiful, and it smells nice. But we're running low on drinking cups.

Maybe I'll ask for a couple of vases, and more Mason jars, for Mother's Day?

Kiss those babies!
~Dy