A Day Full of Surprises!

Tonight, as the puppies (aka, children) scampered about the church grounds, John tripped on the ramp out front. The forensics team pieced the accident together using skid marks, blood trails, and visual examination of the involved party. It was gruesome. The full report indicates that the victim was traveling downhill at Mach 3 when a stray molecule of unknown origin bolted into his lane from oncoming traffic. The small (yet rapidly moving) victim was thrown forward, out of his planned trajectory, landing on the palms of his hands. The momentum of his body then thrust him up and over, pole vaulter-style, onto his forehead and nose. The victim traveled in this position for a few feet, as indicated by the abrasions on the entire upper portion of his head, as well as the tissue and blood residue on the ramp. (To put it in laymen's terms, the best I can tell, John took a literal nose dive down the concrete ramp at church and came up with a goose egg that could have only come from one seriously large goose. Or possibly an ostrich. Pretty typical boy-type accident, and no, it won't give him an incentive not to run down the ramp next week. Funny, these kids.)

I couldn't make it better. It hurt, and that's all there was to it. I couldn't get within thirty feet of his forehead to kiss it. Trust me, I tried. The kid can duck and weave like a featherweight champ when he needs to. The days of being able to stem arterial blood flow and repel the fear of pain with the "all better kiss" are gone, now. I got out the ice and... and that was it. That was all I could do. Without the power of The Kiss That Makes It All Better, I might as well have not been there. But even amidst the initial terror and screaming, he remembered to say "thank you" to the child that retrieved and straightened out his party hat. He's so good about taking things in stride. Poor bruised, lumpy, loveable kid.

Other than the pretty graphic face-plant, however, today was a good day. The boys and I took more things down to the Little Basement That Could. We made two batches of Turkish Delight. Or, rather, without the aid of a candy thermometer, we made one batch of nutless praline-like goo and one batch of translucent concrete. It's okay - we had fun, and we needed a new cookie sheet, anyway. James made a play called The Magic Mop starring Balto and the kitchen mop. John narrated the last chapter of Prince Caspian so well that I have to admit that the kid can talk and listen at the same time (if he hadn't been born at home, I'd wonder if he was switched at birth). Smidge enjoyed being Two in all its Two-ness, and it was nice to have his smiley, giggly, contrary little self back to normal.

I took the kids to church so that Zorak could work a bit on the house without feeling torn between the bullnose beading and my semi-desperate need for help with the evening routine. We had fun in town, and he got quite a bit accomplished. Perhaps a bit too much, as he now has a list of "little things" that need doing. There's an awful lot of painting on that list, and that makes me twitchy.

The boys had a delightful time at Pioneer Club - John's teacher sought me out to say what a joy he is to have in class (it's always nice to know that others enjoy your children, too). James enjoyed his lesson on growth and erosion, and drew an awesome picture of his favorite plant (the stevia plant, in case you were wondering - I have no idea when that developed, but there you have it).

He then, on the way home, completely altered the drawing by adding two children eating of the forbidden fruit, erm, stevia leaf, and titled his final piece, "The Root of Romance". (Where does he get this stuff???) ARGH. I thought we'd settled all this during our last painful drive home. As I didn't have the manual transmission to help me this time, and he doesn't believe me when I point out the window and shout, "LOOK! A polar bear!", we talked. Again. And I doubt it took this time, either. But we'll keep talking until he realizes he is this close (picture my fingers very close together) to being sent to a monastary.

We've a lot to do tomorrow, and over the weekend. It looks to be a wonderful, productive few days. There's a storm a'brewin' and headin' our way, so we'll have plenty of time to get things done inside and be ready to frolic when the rain passes on. Rhythm, cadence, pace. Even in the chaos, it's there, and the sound is beautiful, isn't it?

Days Like Yesterday

We all have 'em. None of us wants 'em, but there you have it. They're going to come, anyway.

Let me begin by saying that Smidge is a puker. Not so much when he's sick, but when he's upset, he will cry hard enough that he pukes. Guaranteed. Our family rule has always been,

"You won't get what you want by throwing a fit, but if you feel you must throw a fit, you can do it in your room. When you're done, we'd love to have you join us again."

All of the children, at one time or another, have opted to go throw a good holy fit, and reemerge when it's out of their wee demonic systems. Smidge, however, seems to think it's a prerequisite for getting beyond the situation and moving into the acceptance stage. So he goes to his room and throws a fit. And pukes. Yeah, I'm lovin' carpet. The new family rule is going to be,

"You won't get what you want by throwing a fit, but if you feel you must throw a fit, you can do it in the bathroom. When you're done, we'd love to have you join us again."

The older boys, while wonderful and delightful in many, many ways are still, by a cruel twist of fate, brothers. And brothers will bicker. And the bickering will make mother's head spin. There's just nothing quite as exhilerating as trying to decipher the arguments that take place during the day.

For instance, the joy that is hearing the righteous indignation of a child screeching, "Don't you DARE stick your tongue out at me!" Only to find, moments later, that the offender was responding in kind to the tongue-sticking-out of the righteous one in the first place.

Or that the other brother began name calling (a serious no-no, even to the point that Zorak and I can no longer call one another our pet names for each other because the boys will jump in and remind us that it hurts feelings and causes dissention... admittedly, "buttloser" and "uberdork" may not be your typical pet names...) But I digress (that also happens a lot when you have children). The point being that the name calling began in earnest due to one child's deeply chilvarous desire to protect the feelings of - a door. Yes, a door. And by golly, I'll take my own brother down to defend this door! (Why...???)

By nine thirty yesterday morning, Smidge was out cold, having puked no less than twice in the throes of whatever psychic phenomena had gripped him. The boys had been informed that I will not read to them again until they decide to hold their own dialogue while I'm reading. Period. And I meant it (which, it's funny that they didn't believe me, because I do follow through. There was no story time last night at bedtime. Naturally, that's when they both pledged their fealty to the upright and noble tradition of "not being rude", but the time for blood oaths had passed and the mommy-gods could not be appeased. To bed! Now!)

And I'd planned to be out the door at ten to run errands! I'd planned a picnic! The day, in my head, was a much nicer day that it was turning out to be. The rest of the day, however, pretty much followed the starting pattern.

Lowe's took us almost two hours to pick up paint stirrers and six pieces of bullnose beading. Two hours! Why? Because you can't walk fast when you're crying and trying to puke. And mommy cannot at that point simply walk ahead of you and make you follow because she knows (just knows) that you will vomit and then slip in your own vomit and at least three employess - the ones you haven't been able to locate while you're looking for things - WILL arrive and wonder what horrible mother would leave her sick toddler all alone in a store like this, and call the police. (And if you think I'm going to put Linda Blair in the cart so I can be covered in pea soup while we walk, yeah right!) So mommy has to walk beside you with her hand outstretched while she attempts to thwart your evil plan and convince you that it's in your best interest (and best hope of making it to puberty) to stop. this. fit. now. (Who knew mommy could talk without opening her mouth? Cool. I think I'll puke now.)

My best creative attempt to salvage the day died at Cracker Barrel. Smidge didn't throw up in the restaurant. He sat and ate and chatted. The boys, seated apart from one another, behaved fabulously. There was much laughing and giggling and sharing of ideas. Everyone shared their food, and all of it was eaten. It was beautiful. The crying and fit throwing at Cracker Barrel was actually me. When it was time to go. I didn't want to get back in the car without backup.

But the day did end. I can't spin you a fairytale and say it ended well, but it did end. And nobody was exiled to the back yard. Nobody was disinherited. There was no blood, and consequently, no foul. In the grand scheme of things, that was a success. Not quite a good day, but a day from which we can rally and move on.

This morning has been banana nut granola, served warm. Hot chocolate and playtime. History is the white elephant in the living room, as it's normally a read-aloud. We'll see how this Mexican Standoff turns out. But I have hope, because the sun did come up, and the baby did sleep from nine thirty last night until four this morning, and so did I. There will be days like yesterday, but there's always the hope of today. It's good.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

WAHOOO!!!

Oh, I am SO excited! Just got off the phone with Aunt B and it looks like Gram, Aunt Linda and Aunt JoAnn will be coming to visit in April! This is terribly exciting. They are just a blast to be around - funny, sweet, smart ladies who enjoy life and the people in it. This is going to be such a nice visit. It'll be nice to have company here at the Forever Home, too. They'll "get it", and will be as proud of Zorak as I am. (He's worked hard for this.) We'll enjoy showing them the work and the land. The boys want to show them their fossil and their rock polishing system down at the creek. I'm hoping they'll help me figure out how to set up a garden!

Gram is the boys great-grandmother. She's MY grandma, too, in many ways - I just had to marry Zorak to get her (but that was worth it.) She is sweet and funny and such fun to spend time with.

We haven't seen Aunt Linda or Aunt JoAnn in ages, so it will be wonderful to enjoy coffee in the mornings and get caught up on all they've been doing.

I'd like to show them the Botannical Gardens in Huntsville - things should be blooming and lovely there in April (I think - I don't know anything about plants, really). What else do you think might be fun?

Oh, and the food we'll get to prepare! What fun!

So. Big news. Lit a fire under Zorak, too. *grin* I know Aunt B said they're coming to help, but there are a few little things I know we'd like to get done before they arrive. It's the good stuff, though, not stressful things. This will be a fun month of preparation and anticipation!

Yay!
Dy

Breathe in, breathe out...

Wow. So, closet organizers? Yeah, now I understand why some people pay others to install them. Oy! One down, four to go... *cringe*

BUT the boys' closet now holds all of their things, our beach gear, their shoes, Emily's blankets, and there's plenty of room for stowing other things, as well! Yay. (I'd say it was worth it, but what do I know? Zorak did all the work. hee hee)

Zorak installed another closet floor and tidied up the remaining taped joints in the hallway. He also worked a lot in the basement, trying to make it feel less like a warehouse and more like a workshop. I don't know if he succeeded, but he sounded happy with the results.

We spent three hours today moving things from the Tool Room to the basement. I only remarked maybe twice on Zorak's tidiness in the tool room, then caught myself and resorted to a general murmuring of discontent as I picked up around the room. He took it well, patting me on the head and reminding me that it looked fine until I quit cleaning it. Shyah, well, yeah, but there's a reason I quit clean -- oh, nevermind. I'll be in my corner, murmuring. (These are the things you have to brace yourself for in a home improvement project. You must learn to laugh about them so that you don't end up involved in a messy court case before your home is finished. The do-it-yourself books never mention things like this. They waste their time on budgeting and materials worksheets. What they need are some good humor-enhancing tips and a schedule on "how to fight fair and still laugh about it".) So. Anyway, three days behind schedule on that room, but there was a LOT more stuff in there than we thought!

I forgot to buy a straw broom while we were out Friday, so the dining room stood neglected this weekend.

But surely, I could have run to the market over the weekend and bought a broom? Oh, no. Miss Emily is experiencing her first "growth spurt". This is a medical euphemism for "the child will attempt to kill you by nursing". It's a subtle battle to the finish. An infant's Gladiator, if you will. Armed with the lung capacity of a blue whale and the tenacity of badger-wasps, the wee contender begins the battle. And entering the arena armed with mass quantities of water, and a stack of books, our returning champion ~ Mom! *The bloodthirsty crowd goes wild...*

Not only have I probably doubled our water bill over the weekend, I spent more time feeding her than I did the entire week of her illness (which was about every two hours that week), and I've read three (count 'em - 1, 2, 3) Rosemary Sutcliff books from beginning to end this weekend. Not to mention a few chapters in Story of the World and seven chapters from Prince Caspian aloud to the boys. There was a point on Saturday where I thought I was a goner, but while she may be focused, I'm just too stubborn to die yet. It looks like this battle was a draw. Mom: alive. Baby: fat. All's well. (But that's why I don't have a broom.)

Everyone is perky and healthy and being forced to stand outside in the 65 degree weather. It's wonderful. Or at least Zorak and I think so. The boys, not so much. John kept slipping in through the back door. Smidge hid under the legos, and finally James came in to tell me he got way too hot out today. Zorak stepped in and mentioned that they'd best get used to it because summer's a'comin' and they aren't spending the entire summer inside! Nope. (*I* might, but they don't get to. I'm old and unable to handle humidity over 10%. They're young and have way too much energy to spend all summer sitting and not tearing through the house. OUT they go!)

So, "growth spurt" aside, it was a relatively productive weekend. The boys' room received a bit more tweaking, everyone got fed semi-regularly, and the laundry is done. We aren't being nearly as productive as we'd like to be, but we aren't stagnating, either. The boys got more of our attention, as well. That's progress of a different, and very important kind. It felt good.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

I love Fridays!

Fridays mean we've made it one more week without misplacing anyone (a personal goal of mine through the years), without givng up on the team plan, without losing sight of whatever it is we're focused on. It's not the ensuing weekend that makes me so happy. It's the knowledge that we're making it - one step, one day, one week at a time. How awfully encouraging! I suppose that, yes, Friday would come even if I did leave poor Smidge at the Family Dollar, or if Zorak went Parrothead without me and lost himself in the Keys. But it wouldn't have the same feeling that it does when the head count and goal focus remain constant over the week. That's nice.

I finished the boys' closet and the texturing of the laundry closet over the week - one teeny tiny step at a time. Had grand plans of installing the organizer yesterday so that I could surprise Zorak with all the efficiency and wonder that is His Wife. Um. Yeah. Have ya seen the instructions to those things? It's designed for "up to" an 8' closet. The boys have Nowhere Near An 8' Closet, and so a hacksaw will have to come into play. We're talking actual linear footage, and yet the instructions say to hack it off "in one inch increments". Oh sure! I'd still be cutting bits apart when James kissed me goodbye on his way to college! And the sheer number of fasteners! Oy! I did surprise Zorak, but it was with a phone call wondering if he knew where the cordless screwdriver was (he didn't) and then begging him to install the stoopid thing when he got home. At least he was exposed to the, erm, Wonder that is... His Wife. (Poor guy.)

Today, our tasks are a bit more within our grasp: to Lowe's for a Mongo Tub O' Joint Compound (yes, the Irish kind) and to Wal-Mart for paint in varying hues with which to brighten our home. That, we can do. The organizer is still splayed about on the boys' bedroom floor, and there it shall remain for the day. I will gladly teach history, math and literature. I will happily pick up supplies. But with four children under foot, I don't use levels unless Zorak makes me.

Kiss those babies (and don't misplace them!)
~Dy

Ode to Hyland's and General Stuff

(Said in a drunken fratboy voice...)

I love you, Man!

A little simethicone at suppertime, an hour of Hyland's Colic tablets administered at regular intervals thereafter, and Miss Emily sleeps like that imaginary baby in the proverbs.

Of course, she's been out for an hour and a half, and I'm still up. Perhaps I should pop a few of those magic little tablets, myself? I don't know what's up with that. I don't care, either. She is asleep.

The boys enjoyed pioneer club tonight. Our first round of The Inquisition after we leave church always leaves me wondering if they take after their father and sleep through the lesson. However, with a little coaxing they produce these great descriptions about their evening.

John, tonight, after telling us about Elijah and the ravens:

"So that's what that bird thing was all about. You know, the paper with the moving bird on it. Makes more sense now, doesn't it?"

James, explaining to me why he doesn't have his memory verse:

"Well, Mom, it's like this. I left it with my teacher because I always lose it at home. Now, though, it's safe and sound with someone more responsible. That's how I handled that."

(He didn't have an answer for just how he's supposed to memorize said verses since he doesn't have the sheet with him anymore. But that's a trivial point, considering at least it's not LOST somewhere!)

We started reading back at the beginning of Story of the World Vol. 1 today. I'm going to read a chapter a day at lunch until we get to where we'd left off. Then we'll return to our regularly scheduled history lessons. This plan serves two purposes: they could use the review, and I don't have the energy to do anything in the activity guide for at least another three weeks. Sometimes it comes together so beautifully. *sniff*

We finished The Horse and His Boy. One drawback to having all seven books bound in one volume is that there is no sense of accomplishment when you reach the end of one book. There's no back cover to close gently while saying, "The..." and letting the boys say, with great pomp and celebration, "END!" Nope. The story just ends, and right there, facing you as if you should go on reading, is the title page of the next book. They're chomping at the bit to read Prince Caspian now. And I'm guessing this is only a problem for me, who is really ready to take a little break, isn't it?

Hey, while I'm rambling aimlessly, does anybody know what "patent flour" is? Our crunchy market isn't stocking the regular wheat-free brands as much anymore (have to request it and they bring it out of a freezer somewhere in the back), but they are stocking more locally made breads, which is neat. We picked up a loaf of Kamut bread tonight to see if John can handle that. We saw a loaf of oat bread that looked delicious, felt just perfect for sandwich bread, and listed "organic patent flour" as it's first ingredient. OK. So, what's that? Stock boy didn't know. He asked Bread Lady. She didn't know, so they asked Manager Lady. She was nice, but didn't know, either. They asked Owner Lady, who looked as lost as the rest of us. (Or that may have been the look of, "Why are all you people standing here, staring at me?" We were quite a little crowd by that point.) They said they'd track it down and let me know, but now the curiosity is killing me. Anybody out there heard of it? Tried it? Used it? Know what it is, even?

Ok, well, it looks like it's safe for me to go to bed! I'm going to make the rounds and kiss my babies once more before I turn in.

~Dy

The Big Colloidial Silver Post

OK, well, I know it's a touchy topic. The more research I did, the more I found that "the facts", as they are, stem from two different camps. They are as follows:

Camp 1: we-are-the-government-and-if-we-don't-approve-it-it's-of-no-use-to-anyone-and-will-kill-you-you-idiot-how-dare-you-question-us

Camp 2: colloidial-silver-will-cure-everything-from-ugliness-to-amputations-and-it-tastes-great-with-cereal

Hmmmm. Neither group really inspired much confidence in my ability to be an informed consumer. So, I kept looking. As you all know, we did decide to give the colloidial silver to the boys. I've received several inquiries as to why and how we came to that conclusion, so I wanted to respond.

I am not trying to convince anyone who is against colloidial silver. As with any treatment, supplement, or hair color, if you're not comfortable with it, don't do it. Don't do it on someone else's recommendation or anecdotal evidence. Don't do it out of laziness or a lack of motivation. Be comfortable. Be informed. Be responsible. I've read Rosemary Jacob's story, and found within her words about as much information as there is general all-purpose angst against all things alternative. I can appreciate the axe she has to grind, certainly. In this instance, I'm simply sharing the information I found that helped tip the scales for us in making the call.

I think no less than eight people sent me the quackwatch link. I read it. It made me uneasy (as it's intended to do.) So I looked around a bit. Some of the "documentation" I read on other topics at that site was downright fallacy, so I did more research on Barrett, and came to the realization that he's in the AMA's back pocket. (And has been for quite a while.) So there's no real credibility on that end, in my not so humble opinion. I kept looking.

The first item I found that was actually somewhat helpful was the Altman Study. (That link is to a .pdf.) I have a lot of respect for anyone who is willing to use himself as a guinea pig. His study focused on the elimination rate of colloidial silver from the body. Interesting study, and worth a read.

Now, my big, gigantic huge fear was causing my children to develop Argyria (Petty? Probably. I'm okay with that.) The amount of silver in a 10ppm solution is something like 3 micrograms, and the EPA suggests that you "may" be "at risk" for developing Argyria if you take 3.8 GRAMS, DAILY, for a prolonged period of time (as in, years). Still, that's an unheard of quantity to ingest daily, anyway. Jacobs and others on the FDA/AMA end of the spectrum claim that it's a residual build-up of silver in the body over a prolonged period of time. Altman's study, however, showed that the colloidial silver doesn't build up in the body the way aluminum or arsenic will. It seems nobody has done further research on the process, but everybody has an opinion.

I did speak with people we know in real life who have taken CS for various maladies, as well as those who are against its use in any form. Thank you, for taking the time and effort to speak with me and answer my questions. All of you. It helped quite a lot.

I can say that my lab rats, er, children are much healthier today than I had any hope of them being three days ago. Smidge's eyes cleared almost immediately, and he has not awoken to gunked eyes since. John's thick, green snot returned to normal colored, runny kid-snot by the following morning. These are not the responses of wishful thinking, nor of mind-over-matter. These are the tangible reactions from taking the CS for some fairly nasty infections that grapefruit seed extract, garlic and breastmilk didn't touch. It was, admittedly, a last resort, but I'm glad we took the leap and gave it to them. We still haven't found a doctor, and I know if we'd gone to urgent care, they'd have given us nebulizers and antibiotics up the wazoo (which I really didn't want). This has worked out well for us.

Here are a few of the links that were more helpful than the others - the first one is the Altman study results, linked above. The second is a rebuttal to an article someone wrote called "The Dark Side of Silver". The original article is somewhere in my archives, but I can't find it right now (I miss caffeine). The bold parts are from the original, the rest is this guy's response. He takes it line by line. And that last link is a GP site of different links on all ends of the spectrum. It includes detractors of CS (as well as a bazillion ads for cs distributors, lol!)

Rebuttal to The Dark Side of Silver

CS Facts, a general purpose informational site (has both pro and con links on it, but is mostly promotional cs links)

Anyhow, that's how we go here from there. Regardless of your choice, I hope you can find information that's useful.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

So here it is, Wednesday

I think it's gone. *shhhhh* Don't say that too loudly, though, okay? There might be something lurking under the deck, waiting for me to look just a little too complacent. But still, I think we're going to be okay.

This morning I thought to myself, "Slowly, slowly, I can feel momentum mounting again. The freeing sensation that we're going to accomplish something this week blows through me - like the wind before a storm. This is good." Then I think, "This is Lent. It's March already." We haven't even discussed Lent this year. (I spaced Ash Wednesday last year, and thought James would never forgive me!) And I realize someone's been slipping crack into my decaf: I'm not going to accomplish squat. This feeling is probably the giddiness of having showered yesterday. Ah, well, it feels good, so whatever works.

Zorak has a "meeting" after work today. It's one of those Beer Friday kind of things, but yeah, on a Wednesday. Gub'ment jobs are silly like that. I have a Suspicion he suggested Wednesdays so that he doesn't have to go to Pioneer Club, but considering all he does - both at work and here, for us - the rest of the week, I can't begrudge him that. I'd like to, but I can't. *grin*

The morning sun is shining, right in my eyes, as I type. I had no idea how distracting that would be. Makes it difficult to form coherent thoughts. And correct typos. It doesn't seem to be as bad when I'm driving. Or I ignore it. That's a little scary - the thought that hundreds of us cruise around, driving into the sun, and think it's not distracting us.

Well, here we are. Wednesday. The first day of Lent. The first day of March. Time to pay bills, go over the budget, buy more joint compound. Time to start awaiting the beginning of Spring. Time to buy the new Latin book for James. Time to dig out my clothes and look for sundresses so I don't melt this summer. Time to bathe the boys so they're clean and spiffy for church tonight. Lots of time today, lots to do. I am so rambling, and have to get off this computer before I burn my retinas from staring into the sun. Ugh. Will blog more later.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

How cute!

Our library calls to remind you when your books are overdue, and I have to say I've never had a sweeter "bring us our books" call in my life. The lady who called had that perfect Elderly Southern Belle voice - she was just too cute. Fortunately, we have the books in a pile by the front door and as soon as I finish loafing on the computer and hanging the next load of wash (it's still spinning, which is why I get some loafing time), we're heading out the door to return them and run a few other errands that've been mounting this month.

It's another gorgeous day here in Forever Land. Sunny, slightly breezy, and relatively arid. I'll take it! If it could be like this all the time, I'd be in heaven. There's a spot in the back yard area that is just begging for a bench swing for reading. I could hear it while I was out back this morning. "Bring me a swing and discover me! Come, little one! Bring a blanket. Coffee. And snacks." Either we are totally attuned to this place, or I've gotta get out more.

One of the errands on the agenda is to pick up a ball so we can play ball in the meadow. (I have no idea where all of our other balls went, unless Zorak and I threw them out in one of the moves - which is totally possible.) The boys are excited, mostly just looking forward to playing outside and enjoying a nice day. It just hit me that I'll need to get a ball that's Balto-proof. Maybe a soccer ball?

Zorak finished the chase for the gas vent last night. It's in one of the bedroom closets, and we set it so that we can build shelves along the little section that's left. It looks great. It's also a reminder that I have a TON of texturing to do! Yikes! I'd better get on it and do a little catching up! Maybe that will be this afternoon's project?

On the homeschooling front (this reportedly being a homeschooling blog and such), I finally signed us up for two local homeschool support group lists. It's time to get out and meet some people. Local people. Friendly people. Homeschooling people. We need Our People, and the only way to cultivate that is to actually get off our butts and find them. The first step is admitting you haven't done that, right? So, that feels good.

And there's the end of the spin cycle. Off to be productive!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

More Progress on the House

We rearranged the living room over the weekend - brought up the couch, put the futon and the stereo into the school room, moved a bookshelf. The living room looks much better - more along the lines of the cabin retreat look we were shooting for. The wood stove must go as soon as the weather warms up. Although we positioned it to take up as little space as possible, it's gargantuan and takes up a huge chunk smack in the middle of a wall. Next winter we'll put in a smaller, more efficient (and attractive) one that will fit nicely in the corner.

Balto spent a good portion of the day roaming free in the house. No accidents. Yay! He wanted to go out on the balcony, but it freaked him out. I don't know if the banister gave him the same sensation cattle guards give cows, or what, but that was one twitchy dog for about an hour and a half. He'd get the front paws on the balcony, then bolt back into the house. In his panicked retreat, he smacked his head on more than one door jamb. But, oh, how he wanted to come out there with us! So he'd try again, make it maybe five feet onto the deck and then scamper like a scalded cat (which, on an animal his size is an amazing feat) back into the house. We just loved on him and tried to encourage him without making him more hyper (it doesn't take much, he's a little spastic.) When we sat down for lunch, he disappeared. Zorak went looking for him (we both had images of the dog gleefully peeing all over the carpet in the boys' room) and found him splayed out on the balcony, soaking up the sun. I guess he conquered his fears in order to claim that tasty little spot of warmth and comfort. Sometimes it's worth is, no?

Emily was right when she called this the ick that has taken over the nation! It seems to have hit everyone we know, from California to Maryland. It's amazing what a rough winter this has been for sinus and respiratory illnesses. I'm glad we've got company, though, as it lets us know that this is normal and we haven't damned the boys to living with some kind of illness for having moved into this place. (Not glad y'all are sick, too, it's just, well, you know. *ahem* Get better soon, everyone!)

Now that the basement has been cleared a little, we can finish clearing out the Tool Room this week and get started rebuilding it come payday! I almost cannot believe we're that close. We could have the master bedroom functioning by the beginning of March! Holy Batcrap, Batman! That makes me giddy!

Oh! Oh! I made a frivilous purchase at Lowe's yesterday! For the first time since this project began, I got to go down the "yuppie homeowner fun stuff" aisle! I bought the boys a closet organizer! The cashier probably thought I'd OD'd on anti-depressants for post partum depression. Picture Laney, buying shoes - brand name, 75% off, and "just what she needed" - that was me, yesterday. What FUN! Of course, now I've gotta figure out how to install the stoopid thing, but still, we are getting so close to Normal that I can taste it!

And speaking of Normal, I've got youngin's to tend to and wash to bring in. Time to go be a grown up and enjoy all the blessings this life offers! Have a wonderful, fantastic Monday, everyone!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Three Days Later

Man. This winter has been rough! I am thankful today is going to be a relatively warm, dry day, because we have got to air out this house. Ick. John had a relapse. Smidge kept getting worse and worse. James hovered on sick all week, and I couldn't shake it, either. Florence Nightingale, I'm not, okay? This is just ridiculous!

After quite a bit of research, which I'll blog about later, I decided to use the colloidial silver. I still wouldn't give it to Miss Emily, but fortunately, she's the healthiest of the bunch. The rest of us, though, have been taking it. Smidge's mucous changed from nasty green to normal snot-color about ten hours after the first dose. He awoke the following morning smiling, with those bright brown eyes wide open for the first time in three days. I can't say I'm sorry I made that call. Everyone feels significantly better. What was nice was that it didn't wind down. It stopped. So, now that we are - hopefully - at the end of this bout of illness, we can get back to life.

We're trying to arrange things in the basement to make room for the tools and materials from the Tool Room. When that's been cleared out, we can begin transforming it back into the Master Bedroom. It's taking a bit more juggling than we expected, but that's okay. It's coming together, one load at a time. We brought the boys' toy shelf up last night. It was like Christmas for Smidge! We also moved one of the tall bookshelves into their room and began the process of liberating some of our favorite books from the basement. That was like Christmas for James.

And I'm trying to blog with James questioning me about light rays and eye development. This isn't working well, so I'm going to go and talk about light waves for a bit over coffee with my eldest child. He's still a little guy, and right now he needs some mama time. I can blog later. (After all, they have to sleep sometime, don't they?)

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

The Mama

We did nothing today other than stare at one another and pass the tissue box. It was a warped, prolonged game of Hot Potato. Only in our version, you wanted the hot potato (tissue box) when the timer buzzed (the timer being any random sinus cavity).

James fell asleep at seven - this, from the child who stays up until midnight reading - and he just barely made it through a chapter of The Horse and His Boy. Smidge didn't make it through supper, and I'm not sure when or how John got to bed because Emily and I were out cold beside James.

So why am I up at three in the morning? Because when you are two and you wake up but find you cannot open your eyes, you cry for Mama. And Mama responds the same way Mamas have always responded, by instinct: make it better. Mama responds by rushing to your room and scooping you into her arms, reassuring you that it's okay (not because she has any clue what's wrong yet, but simply because she is here, and you believe her). She responds by washing your face gently and coaxing your eyelashes apart one by one; by cuddling you tightly and kissing your hair, your forehead, your cheeks; by slathering you with things to clear your nose, and calming your Very Scared Little Self. Then you feel better, because Mama made it better. And you snuggle under your fleece blanket, kiss your soft toy goodnight and drift off to happy two year old's dreams.

Meanwhile, Mama stays awake several hours longer, checking in on you. Are you breathing? Are you okay? Are you spiking a fever? Are you dehydrated? Is she missing anything? Is the path to the hallway clear? Should she bring you to her bed? Should she sleep on the floor where she is near you and your siblings? Should we all live in a one-room house to eliminate these questions? Is the baby still safe? Are you okay now? Come to think of it, is Daddy alright? Mama has work to do, after the crisis has been averted. And so, Mama is blogging between rounds she must make before she is assurred that All Is Well and she can go back to sleep.

Well, this isn't leaving the house easily, and so I do believe it is time to call a doc and see if perhaps there's something bacterial that has invaded the house along with the viral ick. Thankfully, today wasn't Friday!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Comfy Floors and Strange Visitors

It felt indescribably good to put my feet on a finished floor when I awoke yesterday morning! Zorak keeps thinking he's stepped on something and it takes a second before he realizes it's not something that shouldn't have been on the floor. We're having a lot of fun with the whole carpet thing.

I've been smitten. Thankfully, it wasn't a full smack-down (yet), but I am sick. I was miserable yesterday. And today. Tomorrow's not lookin' so hot, either. Ick. However, I feel better than Smidge, who awoke crusted over and slimy like something from a Clive Barker flick, looks. Poor little guy. I had slathered him with items from the voo-doo bag the night before (a little eye of newt, a little dragon's liver, and a dab of chicken foot) and evidently it did the trick because the next morning everything that had been inside his body was now outside it. All over it. Amazing. He was feeling a tad bit better by bedtime last night, so I think he's reaching the end.

Yesterday nothing was accomplished other than two loads of bedding, which I then added to the mining camp ensemble to dry. That's one thing I miss about living in the desert: wash hung on the line dries in the same amount of time it takes the next load to wash. I really, really miss that.

Zorak wants to begin on the master bedroom this weekend. I think I'll let him.

Oh, and we had a bizarre visitor yesterday. While the kids and I were enjoying lunch, a white pickup pulled in and a young kid (I'm guessing mid-20's) got out and came to the door. When I answered, he said he noticed from the road that we're fixing the place up. Said his granddad had built this house and would we like to have the original plans to the house. Now, this, in itself, doesn't strike me as weird. If Zorak's Granny had sold her place and we saw that somebody was fixing it up, we'd stop and say hi, tell some stories about the old place, and just be friendly in general. What strikes me as weird is that (a) you can't SEE this place from the road, and (b) you can't tell we're doing anything other than trashing the place from the outside.

He went on to tell a few stories which may or may not jive with what we know about the place. He said it was built in the late sixties and that it burnt down a few years later and the structure that's on there now was rebuilt after the fire.(County records say it was built in '71. Something was on fire at some point in the Dean Koontz room, but I'm not sure if it's indicative of a whole house fire...) He identified a few of the fruit trees on the property, although one he got wrong (said it's a fig and it's a chokecherry - I have no idea how close those two are in appearance). He shared a lot of information I wouldn't share about my family in a town this small. In all, he was fairly believable, but the whole visit had a feel of "doesn't quite fit".

Anyhow, I didn't let him in. I couldn't shake the feeling that he is the son of the folks who lost this place and that he was running recon for them to see if they want to buy it back. He mentioned having come into an inheritance a while back, and that was the big flag-raiser for me. Both our realtor and the closing attorney said that usually the only way people come to claim a right of redemption is when they receive an inheritance that allows them to afford to buy the place back. He asked if my husband would be home that evening and said he'd bring the plans by. He never came back. I hope he doesn't. But I can't feel at ease about the encounter. I'll be so thankful when we get the all-clear in May. Until then, please pray that it stays quiet on that front.

Today we'll keep cleaning and resting. I'm going to work with John on his reading as soon as he finishes breakfast. The older two are still sound asleep and resting. I think I'm going to go climb back in bed and wait for John.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

One More Down

Wow. The War Room is now carpeted. Zorak pulled it off. I'm in awe. It looks downright swanky in here! Didn't hurt that we cleaned the computer and desk before we brought them back in, I'm sure. It is going to feel so good tomorrow to get up and put my feet down on a finished floor! WAHOO!

I got the boys' room mostly stenciled today. It looks really cute. Smidge saw the trains and yelled, "THOMAS!" Then he clasped his hands together and let out a beautiful little, "Ohhh, thank you!". (I should say this is an artistic rendering loosely inspired by Thomas. It's close enough to thrill a two year old, but not close enough to risk copyright infringement which was not intentional, actually, but one of the benefits of not being able to draw freehand.) James LOVED his beakers. John thinks the dragon tracks and eggs are just the best. I may stop right now. They're happy, and that's what I was shooting for. The ceiling fan blades didn't go up today because someone touched them and they had to be repainted. Grrr.

While the back half of the house is coming together, the living room looks like a miner's camp during the bad years of the gold rush: skivvies drying by the wood stove, beans cooking over in the kitchen, trails of mud leading from the door to various spots in the living room, a wood chip trail to the stove, and well, you get the picture - it's just a mess! When, or if, Miss Emily goes to bed tonight, we'll do a big clean before we hit the hay. If not, then that's on tomorrow's agenda.

Thanks so much for your encouragement and gentle reminders on the last post. I feel better today, which is great. (Getting those damned stencils over with helped a lot!) And now I've got this visual of God doing the Extreme Wrestling thing, which cracks me up. It's probably not wise to giggle at the Almighty, in particular not when I'm the one facing a potential smack-down from Him... but I can't help it. It's funny. I will, however, keep in mind the warning signs and I promise not to incur the wrath of the Almighty or force Him to smite me with something viral and ouchy.

Kiss those babies.
~Dy

Oh, yeah, that's nice. (More remodel news.)

The boys are in their room tonight. Their real room. Their Forever Room. It's carpeted and clean. The closet has wood flooring. It's roomy. It's not right off the kitchen. ;-) The boys all helped move their belongings into the room. "Excited" doesn't begin to describe the atmosphere. Smidge and I sat on the floor, playing ball. James staked out his places in his bed and oriented himself in his space. John ran around in circles, making unintelligible yet happy noises. Zorak can't stop smiling.

The stencils were drawn up and cut out today, but not painted on. It's just not possible to paint ANYTHING with four small children and construction work going on. If Emily didn't need something, Smidge did. If one of the older boys wanted to do something, so did the other two. The constant hum of someone in search of something from somebody else created a distracting air that really killed the focus. Nobody had enough focus to L-I-S-T-E-N. So. Hopefully Zorak will take them far, far away tomorrow and I can stencil up trains, beakers, dragon footprints and dragon eggs while they are gone. (Don't ask me how I'm going to make it look nice - that's beyond me at this point. I just want them UP.) The ceiling fan blades have been painted and are drying. They'll go up tomorrow.

As soon as I post this entry, the computer gets shut off and we'll empty this bedroom to carpet it tomorrow.

My mind is turning now to the school room. It needs French doors and a bigger window, but for the immediate needs, it looks like new wiring and walls. It's exciting!

I'm strung a little taut at the moment. Mentally. Emotionally. Physically, I'm fine. But the other two are feeling a bit wrung out. Not sure how best to deal with that. Getting away isn't an option. Taking a break won't make things better. Slowing down won't, either. This is one of those times that require us to just plough through what needs to be done and try not to be too hard on ourselves for not seeing immediate joy in it. I liken it to hiking the switchbacks out of a deep canyon. The hike down was enjoyable, with new sights and discoveries. The stay, while often grueling, was pleasant and rewarding. Now it's time to hike back up. That always kills me. One foot in front of the other. Step.

Step.

Step.

Don't look at the top of the switchbacks. They seem insurmountable. But they aren't. You get there one plodding step at a time. Stop for water. Catch your breath. But don't think about how much of the climb is left. Just plug on. There's a thick steak and cold iced tea waiting for you up there, but you won't get closer by trying to see it from the trail. You have to keep. Going.

And I'm done with my water now. Time to put one foot in front of the other and take another step. The end of the trail may not be visible, but it's attainable, and the view from the top will be astounding! We just have to get up there to enjoy it.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Darn Morning Blogging

The quality of my blogging is bound to take a serious dive pretty soon. First my caffeine has to go. THEN my night blogging gets yanked out from under me. What's next? Health food?

So, since Emily is now healthy and has the cry of a clear-lunged hyena, I thought I'd take the boys to see The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe yesterday. (Just LWW for the rest of this post - I'm conserving my typing energies.) But at two in the morning, a Very Stuffy Smidge crawled into bed to cuddle and shower me with snot. I realized two things: we'd spend Friday on the couch, and our bed is shrinking.

Really. It is. We used to be able to fit two adults and two wee children in the bed with only minor placement problems. But Smidge. Oy. The kid has the volume of an NFL rookie and he's as active as a tap dancer. Add to it Zorak's Elbow of Death, and Miss Emily's desire to suckle any body part she can find in the dark and... well, that's why I'm up! It was simply too dangerous to stay in there.

Today, Zorak will stay with Smidge (who has once again commandeered my pillow) while I take the boys to see the movie. They're so excited. We've finished The Magician's Nephew and LWW and are just a few chapters into The Horse and His Boy. James *clicked* near the end of LWW - Aslan, Edmund, salvation, the whole sh'bang! I don't know if I mentioned it here, but it was k-i-l-l-i-n-g me not to point it out to him as we read. I could see bits niggling at his brain, hints in his eyes that "there's something more going on here..." and then suddenly, KAPOW, it hit him. Now he wants to go back and re-read The Magician's Nephew with his newfound knowledge. He he. Yep, this is good stuff!

But it's also really great to see it through John's eyes. For John, this is the Ultimate Adventure Tale Ever. It's not any less thrilling to see the stories that way. Not at all. As a matter of fact, I'd read all seven books as a child, loved them passionately, cried when I finished, and never clued in. Not even a hint. (Yes, I actually read The Last Battle and STILL didn't suspect anything.) But I enjoyed it then just as much as John is now, and revisiting Narnia once in a while always reveals something new and exciting. So, in all, we're having a great deal of fun with this.

Zorak shared with me His Plan for this weekend. It sounds a bit ambitious for one who doesn't get started until after ten on the weekends, but who am I to put the kabosh on Grand Schemes and Things of That Sort? (Can you tell I'm abusing capital letters today? Certain things seem to take on a different feel when they're capitalized, and it cuts down on my abuse of italics.)

OK, well, the sun is now up and the day must begin!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

OK, it's done.

James looks like Lloyd Christmas. John's got the whole Big Brother Chet thing going on. Thankfully, Smidge has no say yet, so he has a Cute Little Boy haircut.

Zorak seems okay with James' haircut. I have no. idea. why. With the faces this kid makes anytime there's a camera nearby, we're going to have a lot of family photos where he looks like this.

Personally, I like John's haircut. Granted, he really does look like Big Brother Chet.* It looks pretty good, though, and is fun to run my hand over, too. It was very difficult for the barber to do it. Not technically difficult, the man has skills; he just didn't want to do that to John's head. I could tell that it was emotionally painful for the man to cut off THAT MUCH HAIR. John is ecstatic over it, and feels pretty manly. Zorak furrows his brow and mumbles, "it'll grow out..." every time he looks at it.

BUT, while they may now look a bit weird, at least they don't look abandoned. That's what I was shooting for, and hey, it worked.

Miss Emily seems to be clearing a bit more with each day. Thank you for your thoughts and prayers. She's a tough little monkey. And very cute, but I have to tell you, we took pictures yesterday and... pink is not her color. Now, I'm not making this up just to avoid pink (although I'd contemplated doing so back in November sometime). The child has my complexion at the moment and pink makes her look very, um, spotted. She doesn't look terribly spotted in person. It definitely looks worse on the camera. Maybe she's just not photogenic? I don't know, but you're going to have to wait for a yellow gown day for pictures.

And darnit, it's raining! I awoke this morning around four to the sound of rain on the roof. I tried very, very diligently to convince myself it was the sound of the noise machine and not the sound of my laundry getting soaked again. It wasn't supposed to rain again until FRIDAY!! Wahhhhh. Oh. Wait. This IS Friday. Well, nuts. There go two more loads that'll have to wait it out. I'm really bad at this, you know.

And so, I've no idea what today, or this weekend will hold. Zorak is determined that we will be laying carpet. I'm guessing that means he's picked a carpet? I don't know. I don't ask questions. I'm just the hired help. Call me Cookie, I'll round up the chuckwagon and have the coffee hot when my Cowboy comes in from the range... But whatever it brings, it should be fun.

Have a great weekend!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy

(* I found the Big Brother chet photo at the Official Weird Science website - if you liked the movie, check this out, it's fun!)

Yet Another Thrilling Day

Zorak awoke, showered, and headed out before the sun even thought about making an appearance. I'm in awe of that man's ability to work so hard on the house each night and still go to work every morning. Thankfully he's not a workaholic, or I'd have to slip sedatives into his coffee to keep him from killing himself!

Me? Yeah, no threat of sedatives, here. I need real coffee each morning in order to get up and moving. Actually, I'd rather not get up and moving. Life would be perfect if I could mount feeders for the boys (think hamster feeders, those are handy!) along one wall by my bed and we could all just stay in bed reading most days. That would be pure bliss. But no. I got up with Zorak, changed Miss Em, made coffee, let Balto out before he vandalized the foyer, fed and again changed Miss Em (who is markedly improved, thanks to a little eucalyptus oil and nonstop nursing - I'm wiped out, but she's quite perky!) Let the dog in. Let him back out. Let him in. I'm getting daily walks via trips to the front door. When we finally put in a dog door, I suspect my weight will balloon significantly.

*poof* John's up. Holy cow, yes, it's seven thirty already! Two chapters in Dragonology, a few peanut butter cups (because I don't have to be the nutrition nazi when there's only one up, right?), and then it's time to get dressed. Clean clothes, please, as we're going to Costco today. "Muenster cheese?" Yes, sweetie, for muenster cheese. (Why don't our regular markets carry this? We have our pick of eight kinds of goat cheese, but can't get muenster! That's just weird.)

Today we get to finish the wash, oogle stackable sets, pay bills, hit Costco, go to the barber (I've been threatening this for, what, a month now? Yeah, well, our barber isn't open Sun-Wed. It's hard to catch him. Today we ARE going!). John wants spikes. James wants it long in front and short in back (in the Land of the Mullet, he marches to the beat of his own drummer - thank God!) Smidge is still blissfully clueless, and I've actually become one of those mothers - he has curls. They are darling. I hate to cut them off, but he's got such a large head that I'm thinking it's not going to go well for him once he loses the toddler fat. So he gets shorn, as well.

We're still making daily, inch-by-inch progress on the house. Laney asked for pictures the other day, and I'd love to have some to post. Sadly, we're not making progress that quickly just yet. However, let me take this moment to solemnly swear that this is not a hoax, nor an urban legend. The Forever House does exist and we are actually living here, fixing it up, and enjoying the reprieve from the Very Cold Weather! I'm still elated over having a washing machine and a clothes line. We're still very thankful for the wood burning stove. We think new insulation is one of the most beautiful things you can hang in your rooms, second only to the walls you hung, taped, textured and painted yourself. I still get schoolgirl-giddy when a room is far enough along that I can attach outlet covers. Yes, progress is being made. It's just not pretty. Not yet. But don't give up on us!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Are You Mocking Me?

Zorak and I joke with one another quite a bit. Sometimes I don't know if he's joking. If it's weird enough, he may just be serious. Many of our jokes, however, rotate around the imaginary Sancha/Sancho. Our standard excuse for missing items around the house is that they've been left at the Sancha's place. (And she'd better wash them before sending them back, too!) But I had an epiphany when the following took place the past week:

I had to go out in public. Since odds are good we'll run into someone who ought not see me in my feral state, I showered and put on clean clothes. Out I went, my small herd of kittens in tow.

Shop, shop, shop. Herd, herd, herd. Pay, do a quick head count, and head home. Yay. We survived.

When I walked in, Zorak hugged me, smiled, and asked if anyone hit on me while I was at the market.

*blink* *blink*

Is he mocking me? I thought to myself. "What?" I asked aloud. (OK, it may have had a bit more inflection, a hint of a mild shriek to it. Seriously, it's not fun to be in drag and get mocked.)
"No, seriously. You're hot!"
(My eyes narrowed with suspicion as I cocked my head to engage the BS-meter.) Perhaps he hired someone to hit on me as a morale booster. A bizarre, warped morale booster...

Then it hit me.

Oh. My. Word. He's SERIOUS. You know what this means? This means I cannot die first. I can't leave him alone to go out there and forage for another wife! I had hopes of getting him betrothed to Thomasina, you know, just in case. But now she's seeing someone and that might make the whole betrothal thing a little hairy. That means he'd be left to his own devices, and do you know what could happen?

Ok, picture this: A personals ad (I'll leave out the abbreviations in case nobody else reads those things just for weirdness sake and isn't familiar with them.)

Do you like moonlit strolls up and down the hall? Do you smell faintly of soured milk and wear stained shirts and men's pants? Do you have enough children to bog down every appendage while out in public? If so, this Widowed Male, father of many, has found his dream woman! I have a job, a home, and a stove that can turn out meals for small armies. Call me. We'll do playdates.

That has become his ideal woman!

What's scarier is that it's ME! Oh, the poor man. What has become of him?

Seriously, what would his options be? Perhaps he'll troll the market, looking for women with slings and white stuff crusted on the slippers they've taken to wearing in public. (Although, in my defense, they do have a rubber sole, and are so comfortable I forget they're slippers.) Stalk La Leche League meetings? Become a midwife in the hope his clients can hook him up? I don't know, but I just can't take chances like that. Better start sucking down the Osteoplex and MSM...

Dy

Hmmm, a lot to consider.

Well, I'm still digesting today's visit. We won't be going back to this doctor, that's for sure.

In the meantime, she prescribed colloidial silver for Emily. I've been doing legwork on it all afternoon, and am still not 100% certain how best to proceed. For any of you who *have* used colloidial silver, I would like to hear your experiences, input, and recommendations. This isn't something we've used before.

It might well be RSV that she has. That was, unfortunately, my thought yesterday. The doctor suspected as much, as well. A lady from church arrived at the baby shower on Wednesday after spending the day caring for her two grandsons who've been laid up with RSV, so it's quite possible that she contracted it then. Ah, okay. It's treatable. We'll take it step-by-step, day-by-day.

I've got to find my almond oil tonight and do a eucalyptus rub on Miss Em. That'll help her sinuses, at least. She's nursing happily, and I'm going to see if I can get her to increase her feedings - it can't hurt in the meantime.

There's some digesting to do, like I said. I'll blog more later, when I've thought out my words better.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy