Don't Wait

This summer, Aunt Bonnie and Uncle John were going to come for a visit. We dearly love Aunt Bonnie and Uncle John, and have jealously anticipated any time we could spend with them, whether while we're driving through Oklahoma, or in knowing they are coming here. Friday, I received a call from Aunt Bonnie's daughter. At first, I was so pleasantly surprised to hear from her, but then her voice cracked, and she said, "We lost Mama this morning."

I haven't been able to write about this, and I've been trying since that afternoon. My heart broke. For her family, her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. For her husband and co-conspirator in life. For her friends at the bakery. For me. Aunt Bonnie was loved by everyone she knew.

Aunt Bonnie spent Thursday baking (she loved to bake, and man, she was good at it - renowned in her community for the best cinnamon rolls on earth!) and then she went to the casino to play with a little of her mad money. She died peacefully, in her sleep, sometime during the night. As last days go, that's not bad. I am thankful she did not suffer, and that Uncle John was not subjected to watching the love of his life wither and suffer, as well.

But I was waiting for the weekend to call her. (Don't wait.)

She was waiting for summer to come visit. (Don't wait.)

The last time we talked was only a week ago. She was up to her armpits in baking flour. She was so proud of her daughter, Linda. She was in love with her wonderful great-grandbabies and shared funny stories about the things kids say. She laughingly and happily relayed stories of Bob, who is living a wonderful, crazy, happy cancer-free life in the Northwest. She was excited about their plans for the trip out.

She didn't wait to enjoy her family. She savored every crazy moment. She shared that love with the rest of us. Don't wait... for things to calm down... for things to improve... for things to be 'just so'. Don't. This is the life we have, and it will be what we make of it. Aunt Bonnie knew that, and she shared it with us. So now, I'll share it with you.

Two of my favorite stories of Aunt Bonnie came from my Mom. At one point, when they were young women, Aunt Bonnie was single and Mom was married. They lived next door to one another, and were the dearest of friends (a friendship that lasted a full lifetime - they could get together after a five or ten year hiatus and within two minutes be laughing and giggling like schoolgirls again). Well, Aunt Bonnie would get home from a date and come over to Mom's house and knock on the window to let Mom know she was home. Mom would take the coffee pot and two cups to the spare bedroom, set it up on the bed and she and Aunt Bonnie would sit back there, drinking coffee, laughing, and gabbing until the sun came up.

Another story, from about the same time period, involved two ladies hopped up on caffeine, trying to paint the ceiling in that spare room. Well, Mom was only 5'3", and they didn't have a long roller. So Aunt Bonnie suggested, after watching Mom jump up and down, trying get paint on the ceiling (getting more on herself than anything else) that they push the bed into the middle of the room and jump on that. They did. I think they still got more paint on themselves than anything else (it's difficult to paint straight lines while you're laughing so hard). But in the end, they got the room painted, brought the coffee pot back there, and enjoyed hot coffee and friendship under their freshly painted ceiling.

I couldn't wait for Zorak to meet Aunt Bonnie and Uncle John. He fell in love with both of them just as much as I had. I'm thankful he got to meet her, and enjoy pot upon pot of coffee at her dining table (which looks ever so much like Mom's always did - it's the command center of the home). The boys fell in love with her, and dubbed her Grandma Bonnie. James said she was a lot like his Grandma (my Mom), and that she gave good hugs.

She had a warm home, where one was always welcome. She always said it was carefully decorated in "Early American Yard Sale" (she did love a good deal). If you stayed for a visit of any length, that front door would open more times than you could count and in would file kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids, just stopping by for a visit. It was wonderful. I want a home like that.

I want another year, another visit, another phone call. But they won't come. I will miss that, miss her. So many of us will. But because she didn't wait for life to come her way, because she went out and rounded it up and fed it and passed the coffee freely, those of us who have been left behind will have one another to continue to love and cherish. We'll have coffee together, and while the table won't be quite as full with that one empty spot, it will be okay. We will have laughter together. We will have silence that descends so fiercely and feels so deep it could rend us in two. We will have memories and stories to help mend our hearts. We will have the pain of her loss, but she made our hearts big enough to handle the scar.

This morning, let's raise our cups and toast life, love, and Not Waiting!

I love you, Aunt Bonnie.

~Dy

When Ya Gotta Sleep...

... Ya Gotta Sleep! (We have no idea how he managed this, but it's certainly a descriptive shot of the life of a toddler: you're on the go. Or you're not. Yes, he was actually standing in front of the futon when sleep overtook him.)

Today was productive, but there was a significant amount of whining going on. I hope it doesn't bleed over into tomorrow. (For the record, it was the boys. Zorak and I were pretty good today.)

The boys spent most of their day getting on one another's nerves. They were just so contrary. It's funny, if you can step back far enough to view it objectively. Zorak and I got to take turns doing that today. I love the tag-team approach to parenting, because it keeps me from getting too focused on the nit-picky things. I can step back and laugh when the child who cried at the mention of having a chicken leg for lunch receives his PB&J sandwich and promptly says, "I'd like some meat with my lunch, please."
"OK," says the unaware subjective parent (in this case, Zorak, which is why I find the anecdote humorous), "What would you like?"

John thought on it for a bit, then perked right up and said,

(Are you ready for it???)

"Chicken would be nice."

Ah, you just can't make that stuff up! And if you don't get the chance to view it from a distance once in a while, it's easy to start thinking they are trying to make you insane. Or that they already have... But no, that's just the process of learning to navigate the world, learning how to bow out gracefully once you've already said or done something less-than-bright, learning how to communicate all those thoughts and feelings and make sense of the mental mush that IS a five-year old's brain. He's doing just fine, and thankfully, so are we.

The master bedroom looks like an actual room. Tomorrow I'll prime the ceiling and Zorak will put the final skim coat on the tape. It can be textured, painted, carpeted, and moved into this week! Yay!

The kitchen received its final coat of paint today, so now all the outlets can stop dangling like gouged out robot eyes and start looking like proper outlets for a change. The makeshift pantries had to be moved away from the walls, so they all got a thorough cleaning, as well. That felt good.

The green in the dining room has grown on us. Thankful for that.

Balto went to the store with us today. He is such a chicken. He wants to ride in the Suburban, but he's afraid to jump in. Then we get home and he's afraid to jump back out. He weighs too much now for me to lift him in and out, so he's simply going to have to get over these little issues of his. However, he's a good traveler once he's in, and he thoroughly enjoyed making the trek with us. I liked having him with us, too. He's a sweet thing, and loyal. He's a good dog.

And on that note, the kitchen is clean, oats are soaking for pancakes in the morning, church clothes are laid out, and it's about time for me to hit the hay so I'm not the weak link in the chain tomorrow morning! I'll leave you with a picture from one of our walks about the property. Zorak and I call this one "Jay and Silent Bob: The Early Years"



Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Hooked up the Printer: Pics Before Monday

Everyone who has more than one child knows about the growth vortex that seems to suck in the first child the day after you've had your second child, and spits it back out three years larger than it was just yesterday. Well, the vortex got Smidge. My wee, precious, little Smidge.



The boys call this her "worried look" - she makes this face right after they've done one of their run-by smoochings on her unsuspecting forehead. One minute, nothing, the next minute, *smack*. What in the world was that?!?


If you sing to her, you'll get one of these expressions. It'll make you laugh, and she'll revert back to the worried look, above. (If she had actual eyebrows, you could tell they're raised. As it is, you have to go by the Bunnicula peak on her forehead - the whole forehead raises up. Weird.)



This was one of the first smiles we got - back in February. Love those cheeks!


I have no idea what Zorak did to cause her to make this face, but had to capture it.


And whatever it was, he soon remedied that and got one of these grins - this is when she's trying to decide if it's worth an all-out laugh or not, but wants you to keep it up while she decides.


This is how she looks most of the day, now. (Well, only in color, but I couldn't get the color true in the pictures, so there ya go, black and white.)


And here she is, the Proverbial Baby. (Note the absolutely exquisite blanket - a blogging friend made that for her - it's like a lacy cloud. She's lucky I let her borrow it.)

We have received some of the most thoughtful, sweet, and loving gifts for her. I will post photos of her with them soon. Thank you, all, so much!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Oh, YUM!

For a snack today, we mixed up a batch of the Sweet Vanilla Milk from the Hillbilly Housewife. (The recipes are about 2/3 of the way down the Powdered Milk page.)

Can I just say WOW-YUM-HOLY-BAT-COW-BATMAN! That is one delicious recipe. I imagine it's even better warmed... with a cinnamon stick... and cookies...

Ok, ok, nix the cookies. Now I'm just feeling gluttonous.

How not to suck down the entire 2Qts. while the boys aren't looking... hmmmm. (Gotta do it while they aren't looking, though, because I think they'd fight me for it if they saw me.)

Tonight we'll try the molasses milk! Mmmm.

Kiss those babies!
Dy

Ooo, that felt good!

Well, yesterday the boys and I found many wonderful books in the basement. They wanted to bring them ALL upstairs, but not only would I have ended the day with thighs the size of Hulk Hogan's, there simply aren't enough finished walls to house the bookcases. You'd have thought it was Christmas, though, the way the boys oohhh'd and ahhhh'd over each opened box. We didn't find the books we were looking for, but we did bring up a nice selection of titles. ;-) And a small bookcase. And the math blocks. I'd call that a semi-successful trek!

When Zorak arrived home, he helped me wrangle the corner hutch back into the dining room corner and the tea cart over by a wall in the dining room. It's found a home! For ten years, we've been sticking that poor little tea cart wherever there was room. Last night, it nestled in perfectly against a little piece of wall that's just the right size, and I just smiled. The little tea cart has a real home now. My Mom would be so happy!

The boys built an alarm last night with their snap circuit set. Using the photosensor, it was set in the window to go off when the sun hit the window. It went off. It was loud. These are definitely Zorak's children, too. They slept right through it. (Personally, I'd have put it in the other window... the one the sun doesn't enter right as it tops the horizon. But that's just me.) So today got an early start. *grin*

We sure are enjoying our four-day school week! We get quite a bit accomplished Monday through Thursday and have Fridays off. We can either enjoy time with Zorak or run errands and work on the house when he's not off. Tomorrow, he's off, and we've a lot to do! Too bad the weather has been completly schitzo - high today of 55, tonight, snow! Springtime in the South? Or just a weird year all around? I don't know, but I'm glad I didn't put the sweaters away just yet. I hope this doesn't kill our pear tree (it's already blossomed).

And I apologize for the lack of pictures. The severe lack of pictures. Not only of the house, but of Miss Emily. She's gone and plumped right up, grew a few strands of hair at the back of her head (her hair, thus far, is brown, by the way), and her eyes have lightened up to a brilliant blue. She's not quite so splotchy anymore, either. (Yay!) And have I taken pictures? Actually, I have been better about that. Particularly considering this is my fourth child and I'm not the photgraphing wiz that Jess is! What I haven't done is hook up the semi-dead printer (or purchase a new one) so that I can upload them. I will do that this weekend. Someone hold me to that, okay?

And that's about it, here. The stove parts arrived yesterday afternoon, so I'm waiting on 8 o'clock to call the appliance store to see when they can get a tech down here. We have no nostalgia for the days before we had a stove. Made eggs in a basket for supper on the waffle iron last night and it gave Zorak and I flashbacks. We had to run to the bathroom and turn on the hot water just to make sure the progress we've made wasn't a dream. *whew* Still have hot water. That's good...

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

What a Wonderful Morning!

It's cold this morning, but dry and breezy. Another laundry day! I got to visit with Gram and Aunt Linda a bit before breakfast. We're so looking forward to their trip out in April! Aunt Linda said she'd be happy to help James plant flowers, and that absolutely made his day when I relayed the news. Then Smidge brought me a book and climbed in my lap. That's all it takes to redirect my attention. We sat and snuggled and laughed our way through Old MacDonald Had A Farm. (This should never have been made into a book. It must be sung, and the children don't like to hear me sing. Who made this into a book???)

The boys are enjoying big mugs of yogurt and hot, buttered toast, while I take a break from hanging the wash and reading to Smidge. When they're done, we'll work out in the yard some, then come in for hot chocolate and stories. We enjoy productive days we can spend together. Days in the car aren't so much fun, but days at home, working and tending, have become quite joyful.

Then it's down to the basement to find our math blocks. It's time. (It's past time, but we've made do pretty well without them thus far.) I've found the videos and the workbooks, but have yet to find the blocks. (Where's the adventure of packing them all in the same box? Organization is for wimps.)

The boys' lessons are going well. I haven't blogged much about the homeschooling, as it's just a part of each day. That's how it goes sometimes. Not every schooling day contains an "ah-ha" or a "eureka". Math, reading, history, Bible, nature walks and read-alouds. It's good, but makes for dull blogging (yeah, like our stove issues make for riveting reading...) I'm digging around for some good memory work, and hopefully I'll find our Latin materials today while we're working in the basement.

I've been trying to convince Zorak to bring up one of the big bookcases to hold the schooling materials, but bringing more stuff upstairs before the house is done just isn't high on his list of Things He'd Like To Do. It ranks right up there with starting over on the house, and having to listen to small children chant songs on CD. So I think today I'll just bring up a little one. Library books on top, school books on the shelves. That'll do nicely, and won't require a ton of heavy lifting and hauling when the time comes to finish the school room.

Oh! We've made a change of plans on the order of things, too. When we finish the master bedroom, we're going to do the foyer next, rather than the fourth bedroom. It's the initial visual impact. And it smells like dog. So, Balto gets a dog house outside and we get a nice foyer. This is good for our mental state, as well, because now the finished (and lovely) walls of the dining room frame the nasty foyer and act as a focal point of Ugly. We made the switch in plans as much out of practicality as out of mental health. The more we finish, the worse the old parts look. This will be great, and leaves us with only the fourth bedroom and the school room to do before the WHOLE HOUSE will have been redone. Not bad. Not bad, at all.

Hmm, I hear giggling. There should be no giggling when you have yogurt in front of you. I'd better go round them up and redirect a little bit. Have a lovely Wednesday! And as always, kiss those babies!
~Dy

Oh, the things that make me smile!

* Hearing James exclaim over snack and a read-aloud, "Wow! This book is far better than I thought it would be!"

* Seeing the smile on Smidge's face when I let him eat some of "my" popcorn.

* Watching John run to the bookshelf to get his writing book down - I don't run that fast unless I'm in imminent danger.

* Reading about other people's tin foil hats.

* Walking through the erstwhile "tool room" and seeing white walls (and not stumbling over tools).

* Smidge hugs, and the impish smile that accompanies them.

* Seeing the light go on in John's eyes when he gets it, really, really gets it.

* Piling on the couch with all four children and knowing that my personal space has been invaded in the most lovely fashion.

* Made-up jokes from children. Sometimes I think it'd be okay to have children just to see the world through their eyes. It's a very funny place.

* Hearing any of my children laugh so hard it causes the others to laugh, too.

* Cooking together. Always a bonus.

* Knowing that although it's cold tonight, we are all safe and warm.

* Knowing that Zorak will scootch aside and let me have the warm spot when I climb in bed.

* Remembering that we aren't the only freedom-loving parents out there who feel so painfully aware of where our accountability lies every time we look into the trusting, loving, eager eyes of our children.

* Looking at our children, and knowing without a shadow of a doubt that raising them is the Best Thing We Could Ever Do.

* Enjoying that whole process, as well.

* Spending two hours at the library and enjoying every minute of it. (Worked hard to get that groove going, but oh, is it worth it!)

* Realizing, at the market, that I've (once again) forgotten to slip out of my slippers and into my shoes.

* Having children who aren't mortified about things like that, yet. (Though the older two will give me a good ribbing and giggle after me for a while over it.)

* Hearing Zorak's voice on the phone, telling us he's headed home after work.

* Hearing the squeals of delight and the tromping of feet as the boys run to meet Zorak at the door.

* Getting a kiss on the cheek, hearing, "How was your day?" - And knowing he really means it.

There's so much that makes me smile! There's a lot to smile about, really.

Kiss those babies (there's another one!)
~Dy

Things you don't want to hear...

Ever.

(From your spouse...)

"Honey, come look at this." (This applies, in particular, to the incident last night, but it's safe to assume this isn't something a woman ever really enjoys hearing.)

"Why is there flame there?"

"I'm going to have to cut off the gas."

(and from the boys...)

"Does this mean no pancakes in the morning?!?!"

(and then from the appliance store we purchased the stove from...)

"Oh no. We don't service that far." (OK, you'll deliver here, but you won't service here? And you couldn't have mentioned that when we bought the stove and made it clear that we were purchasing locally for the s-e-r-v-i-c-e?!?)

(from the two other companies the first company gave you service contacts for...)

"Five Star? Who makes that? I don't think we service those. *pause* Nope. We don't service those."


So much for buying locally. I ended up calling Five Star. For the record, they were truly fantastic! Five Star is sending the parts needed to do the repair and they somehow managed to talk the original shop into sending a technician down to do the repair once we have the parts in hand. Yay, Five Star!!

All this, and we can still make it to the library today! Yippee!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

It's Dead... (rated R, for language and government rants)

My phone, that is. It's been sickly for a while, and we saw this coming. Still, it's a bit of a shock to find yourself without a cell phone. Just wake up and thhhbbttt. It's dead.

I took it to the Verizon technician to see what it would cost to fix the problem (because, of course it's out of warranty and we're three months away from the standard now-we've-got-you-for-another-two-years upgrade). Answered the gazillion questions they ask - what's the problem, what's it doing, how long has it been doing it, and what have you done to resolve the problem. OK, pick it up at three. Well, we weren't staying in town until three, so I just called.

Had to laugh, because when I called the conversation went like this:

CSR - "Well, it won't take a charge."
Me - Um... yeah, I know. That's why I dropped it off.
CSR - "It says it's charging, but it's not."
(Long, awkward pause, as I wait for them to provide me with information I haven't provided them already.)
Me - Aaaannnnddd?
CSR - "Well, there's a few things you can do. You can see if a friend has a phone they don't want. You can purchase a new phone, retail, of course. Or you can buy one off eBay."
Me - What would it cost to fix it?
CSR - "It won't take a charge."
Me - So it can't be fixed?
CSR - "Well, it won't take a charge."
Me - No SHIT, it won't take a charge!* I am well aware of that. Why can't it be fixed? (*That first part was in my head. I don't swear at the poor sap who got stuck answering the phone.)
CSR - "Um, the software won't let us fix it."

Well, okay, it's THEIR software. Are they telling me they coded it to do this? Or that their technician can't be bothered with "software issues"? Did he work for Microsoft before coming to work for Verizon? Bah. I hate planned obsolescence.

We have two old phones, but I don't think they have GPS capabilities. (Yet another Federal mandate in the name of "the people", designed to complicate our lives, waste our tax money, and control our spending habits. Bastards. And we're the idiots who allow things like this to be passed. As much as I appreciate certain things the FCC does, I think it's outlived its usefulness and is now overstepping its bounds out of sheer boredom.)

And if I had a compliant phone, I'd be on it right now, wasting my minutes to make that clear to someone in DC.

Dy, off to piss and moan to the congressman who will never see my email

Many Shades of Green

Well, the best laid plans...

Miss Emily kept me up until five this morning, when I simply couldn't hang any longer and left her to her own devices in the bouncy seat. Needless to say, that rearranged our entire Sunday morning schedule. Pancakes? Nope, Frosted Flakes. Church? Nuh-uh, slept here instead of in the pews.

While Zorak made astounding headway in the back, I primed the living room. (In my defense, before I go any farther, you all need to know that Zorak approved this color! It's not all on me this time!) The primer went on. Uh-oh. "Honey, does this look a little, um, olive drab, to you?" It was, but what could we do? And it was just primer, anyway. It dried to a beautiful, rich, textury green that we both fell in love with. Oh joy! This is exciting!!

Four hours later, I applied the finish coat. Uh-oh. (Yes, again. This time, for real.) "Honey, this is a little, um, yellow..." Zorak said go ahead and slap it on and see what happens. I couldn't bring myself to put it up on more than one wall, at first. It goes on the color of weak split pea soup. (Yeah, ew.) It dries to a vibrant grass color. Hmmm. It's not... bad... per se. But it's not that lovely, convoluted green that begged for bronze trappings and heavy tapestries, either. This green seems to call for more IKEA and less Antique Shoppe. We'll see how it looks in the morning, I suppose.

Meanwhile, Balto figured out how to open the back door, so he spent much of the day inside with us. He's starting to learn that the boys aren't puppies, but I'm not convinced we're making headway. Now he thinks he's a boy! At one point, the balls came out into the living room. I tried to redirect, remind, and guide. Finally I resorted to the Lois technique; yelling.

"THAT'S IT! If you have THAT much extra energy, take. it. OUT. SIDE. NOW!!!"

Balto turned and headed down the hallway and out the back door like a pro! It was all I could do to keep a straight face until all four of them got out of earshot. Too cute. Well, if he's going to be a boy, at least he listens well. That's something.

That's about all I've accomplished today, as Miss Emily has taken the role of Union Boss and she sees to it that nobody works more than she feels ought to be done. Want to work through lunch? Nope, not in the contract. I don't care if this job needs to get done, you're going on break NOW, woman! Ok, ok, just let me put this one little -- Did you not HEAR me? NOW! Alright, already! Sheesh, it's a good thing we're using latex...

And I hear the world's cutest little union boss calling me now, so I'm off!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Captain's Log: Saturday, sometime in March

So who knew yesterday was St. Patrick's Day and didn't tell me? You'd think I'd have been bruised enough in childhood from not wearing green to school that it would be permanently embedded in my psyche, but noooooo. The boys made it until our friends arrived in the afternoon before they figured it out. When they mentioned it, it was all I could do to fight my first reflex of cringing and shouting, "I'm wearing green underwear! Don't touch me!" (And who says public school doesn't teach social skills?) Ah, oh well, one more minor holiday completely spaced by yours truly.

The boys had a wonderful time with their friends. First thing on the agenda: make some horrible concoction out of household goods to see if it will explode. I don't normally encourage James' "recipes", as simply hearing the ingredient list is usually enough to turn my stomach. However, there were eight children and they agreed to take it outside. It didn't explode. Not even when they added dirt. Hmmmm. But they did have fun.

Balto thought we'd had a whole new litter of puppies brought it. They've never been around puppies before (I imagine their dog is as quiet and gentle as this entire family is, from what their mother said), and two of their children were absolutely terrorized if he so much as looked at them. So Balto had to be kept from the festivities. It just about killed him not to be in the middle of the fun, but he's really not very well-behaved (not dangerous, just not bright) and we didn't invite them out to scar their children.

They brought a paving stone kit for a housewarming gift. We let the kids make it at the dining room table - they all stamped their names into it, and it's curing on the table for the next couple of days. When we put in the children's garden, it'll be the first paver we set. So cute!

Their mother was very sweet, and we had a nice visit, but I think the house and the process and the work we've been doing freaked her out a bit. Her exact words were, "Wow. I wouldn't have tackled this." She was nice, and encouraging, but still, I think she'll be much relieved when all is said and done (and the windows have trim). Zorak thinks it may be a cultural thing (both the fact that she was a little weirded out and that she was so polite about it). He may be right.

There are days that I wonder what we were thinking. That this will never be finished. That we're insane. I suppose, though, that seeing it come together day-by-day makes a difference. Whether it bolsters my confidence that we can do it, or just feeds the mental illness is unclear, but that's okay, too. The boys are happy here. They sing while they eat. They run to the creek. They frolick and play like happy pups. Smidge sings "we're home, home, hoooooome" when we turn into the drive. The older two have forts and hideouts and laboratories all over the property. We're giving them the childhood we hoped to give them, and as the work on the forever home itself slows, we're able to give them more of ourselves again, too (which was the biggest part of the childhood we hoped to give them).

We have a bear and a hippopotamus lurking in the back yard for archery time. Granted, they are 55 gal. trash bags filled with insulation, waiting for the trash man on Tuesday. But right now, they're wild beasts the boys hunt on safari. I sit on the back porch (the one that has a serious Appalachain Hillbilly theme going - it's still got a toilet on it, and the roof is downright terrifying) with my cup of decaf, the baby in my lap, watching Zorak with the boys, hearing their cheers and laughter at every shot, seeing them learn new skills and encourage one another. High fives all around for a good shot. Pats on the back and words of encouragement for a wayward arrow. I laugh and smile and give thanks for all this. Insanity or not, it's good, and I wouldn't trade it for something that made my husband sad or feel trapped. I wouldn't trade it for some place that we couldn't do these things together. And it's okay if not everybody gets it. We get it, and that's why we're doing it.

Oh! Another family from church had a play kitchen they were getting rid of and asked if we'd like it. Sure! So it's now sitting in the dining room and hasn't had a moment's rest while the children are up. Smidge has become quite the gourmet chef! Eggs and coffee are his specialities. (Actually, eggs and coffee are about all he will make. Oh, and tea for James.) I don't know why we never bought one before! These things rock!

As I've typed this and tried to enjoy my morning cup, all three of the boys have arisen, one at a time, and come to sit on my lap for a visit and a snuggle. It's now over an hour later than when I began and it's time to get going on the day. So I'll sign off and go round up the wee ones for some more snuggle time (that stuff is addictive, isn't it?) Y'all have a great Saturday!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Living Life in 15 min. Increments

We are Crisis Cleaning today. (Company coming tomorrow, and the lived-in look has been stretched a bit too thin to pass for construction dust at this point.) So, I have 15 minutes to blow - we've cleaned the kitchen and living room and have hung/put away our clothes - but the General board at WTM is down and I'm all caught up on my blogrunning. *sigh* What's a gal to do?

Why, blog, of course!

Amy tagged me, but I'm going hold off on doing it to see if I can find a cool old photo to post with it. It was fun seeing hers. (Come to think of it, I still haven't done the one FarmGirl tagged me with from a month or so ago. I am really bad at team games, aren't I? Sorry.)

Tomorrow is Friday, and it brings with it a flurry of remodel activity. I love payday!

We're going through the pantry today to figure out what we need to buy and what we just aren't eating much of. Then I've got to refigure our meals. This morning I went low-maintenance for breakfast and served hot rice w/ milk, sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar. The boys ate it like I'd served them ice cream. That makes me leery, but hey, it's enriched rice and there was milk, and cinnamon... um, is tree bark a food group? It should be. When you have three small boys, that's an easy one to get in a full RDA's worth!

Well, there goes the timer. Time to get back to work! Have a wonderfully productive day!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Full Disclosure

Ok, Renee brought up a good point. It takes a certain person to handle living in Alabama, and if you're not that certain person and are thinking of moving here and screwing it up like you did your own state that you can't wait to run from, well, don't.

So how do you know if you're "a certain person"? It's easy. If you're thinking of moving to Alabama, here are a few things we'd like you to know before you make your decision:

Only I-65 is paved. Every other road in the entire state is gravel and oppossum.

Shod children are verbotten. They took our shoes when we arrived.

The ground is infested with hook worms, and your now barefooted children will come down with them.

But you won't notice because you'll be too busy picking ticks off their little bodies.

There are gators in the Tennessee River. (Seriously.)

You will not be able to understand a single person at the drive-thru, and it's not the microphones. You can't understand 'em at the counter, either.

Taxes are atrocious. Simply atrocious. (And those of you from New Jersy, don't laugh. We just can't afford for them to get NJ-bad before we complain!)

After six months, you won't be able to understand a thing your youngest child says.

If you weren't born in the South, you will never attain Southern Hair. This will mark you forever as a fer'ner and you will be mocked at all public gatherings, eateries, and even in church.

OK, I lied. We have no eateries. Just lots of fried food places. This is cardiac central, here, folks. Run!

When we say folks are "friendly", it's a euphemism for "nosey". And the towns are small to facilitate the corporate knowledge of your. every. move.

The Air and Space Museum is a front, just like Old Tucson. It's not real.

The IMAX there is a bedsheet and a slide projector. (OK, it's probably time for me to just go to bed, isn't it?)

In all seriousness, it does take a special person to feel at home here. Not everyone would love it. I don't think we would have been so excited about it three years ago. But that's why we didn't come three years ago. We have friends we love dearly who would wither up and die if they tried to live here. Just as we nearly withered up and died living on the east coast.

But I jokingly told someone a while back that we just tell everybody that nobody here can read and they're all married to their cousins and you can't get indoor plumbing. She was aghast. I mean truly and wholly offended. To the core of her being. Once I realized she thought I was serious, I felt bad. Although you couldn't probably spot that right-off, what with my giggling and all... Gotta work on those social skills. Or find friends who get my sense of humor so I can quit subjecting these sweet old Southern Belles to it.

And that's just what we did today. (Sweet segue, huh?) The children and I went to the festival and had a lovely time with several other homeschool families. I was the dowdiest mother there (but I'm getting used to that - see #9 above - there is no hope). The kids had a wonderful time. The boys made friends and now desperately want to take Judo classes. Emily got lightly toasted. (Oops. Bad Mommy forgot the sunblock!) Just on her head, though. I don't know what they all thought of us, but we enjoyed the company and felt very comfortable with them. It's starting to feel like "home", and we're beginning to gather "our people".

Met Zorak for supper at the New Moon (cheap Chinese buffet - with a sushi sidebar that James loves), then he took Smidge home while the others and I headed to church. Pioneer Club went wonderfully well (I'm going to miss it when they break for the summer!) and nobody got injured. We've got some really wonderful people there, and it's always a nice time spent enjoying one another.

And now, to bed. Tomorrow's a busy, busy day, but it should be a good one!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

PSA - thought I'd share

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Coming Together

I know it all comes together. It does. It has to. And if it doesn't, well, I won't realize that until it's too late and then mere acceptance can replace the misguided hope I've been harboring, right? Right. In the meantime, y'all have shared some great ideas, and made me laugh a lot. Thank you so much.

Today should be sunny and windy. That's a perfect laundry day! Yippee! The boys won't be so thrilled, but that's okay. Slave labor isn't supposed to be fun.

Tomorrow we're going to an Asian arts festival in Decatur. One of the ladies from the WTM boards who'd contacted me about doctors has put together a small group to go and she invited us, also. I'm looking forward to meeting her and her little ones, and the boys are just thrilled. They were beginning to wonder if anybody in Alabama homeschools besides us and the midwives.

We're having a very difficult time showing some restraint in our preparations for the arrival of Gram and The Aunts. The only thing that's slowed us down is that a lot of the goodies we'd like to have on hand are fresh and perishable, and wouldn't be all that impressive if they'd been sitting here for three weeks by the time they arrived. *grin*

The master bedroom is coming along nicely. Not quickly, but nicely. It's going to feel sooooo good to get that room done (and get the queen bed out of the dinky little room it's in now - it's like Romper Room, with wall-to-wall bedding). I think Zorak will bring home a truckload of gravel on Friday, so we can fix the driveway and then we can have the construction dumpster hauled away. That, alone, will do wonders for the outside! (It was supposed to be hauled away a while ago, but they can't get over the driveway with a full load, and that's just been at the bottom of our priorities list until now.) Step-by-step, it's all coming together! And it's fun!

Thursday (yes, this is turning into a "to-do list", hush) we'll clean and get the house ready for company on Friday. Some of our over-an-hour-away friends from church have no school on Friday, so they're coming for a playdate. As long as James doesn't propose marriage, it should be a fun day!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

On Being Outnumbered - Our First Day Back At Church

Well, I can't say it was from lack of trying. We prepared the oatmeal pancake batter from the Hillbilly Housewife on Saturday night. Laid out clothes for everyone. Got to bed at a decent hour, and set the alarm. We were all up, dressed, fed, and out the door bright and early. So far, so good! Zorak stayed home to battle the wiring he'd had to lay aside on Saturday to do brickwork.

Smidge fell asleep on the drive to church. (It was nine in the morning! Noooo!) And Emily screamed the last half hour of the drive. We got there in time for Sunday School, and the older boys were off and running! Yay. Emily was just coming off the indignation that comes from having to wait to eat. Smidge wanted nothing to do with the nursery, so I sat in the adult class with both of the little ones on my lap. (In hindsight, this should have been my clue to leave as soon as class ended, but I'm not too bright sometimes.)

Class let out and we enjoyed visiting during the break. Emily got passed around. One of our wonderful Titus2 ladies helped me get everybody herded to one table and kept the boys' cups filled. Alrighty, not bad... not bad... we're doing okay. As long as nobody has to pee, I think we'll be okay.

We headed into the sanctuary, me and my little trail of ducklings. The boys shot straight to the front of the church. I did have sense enough to sit on the side by the wall aisle so I could slip out if need be. And boy, did need be! After two hours of being awake and chipper, Emily came slowly, yet vociferously, unhinged. I tried nursing, but that wasn't it - this was gas, baby, and there was no stopping it. She's still at the "yell the gas out" stage (I'm so glad this disappears - could you imagine how awkward life would be if everyone did that?) So I gave the boys instructions to sit. quietly. and for the love of God, do not squirrel around. Took Smidge and Em to the nursery to change diapers and see if I could settle her down a bit.

Well, it's dawned on Smidge lately that he's not getting the Lap Time he's accustomed to having. And while he doesn't blame Em for that, he is certainly determined to get it back. So there was nothing doing on the nursery for him. Emily seemed quieter (and I had visions of the boys swinging from the banners in the sanctuary) so we headed back in. No sooner did I sit down that she starts squawking again! And now Smidge is talking - to the chairs, to his brothers, to Emily, to the pastor. Oy! And I'm smiling as I try to get everyone settled, but it's one of those tense, thin-lipped smiles that just screams, "Kill me now!"

Finally, Emily lets out the gas, along with a Braveheart-type war whoop and Smidge starts yelling, "Fart! Fart! HA HA HA HA!! You fart, Mama!" (This is genetically coded in him, blaming others for passing gas, and laughing heartily about it. It should serve him well in college, but for now, not so funny.)

That was it. The end of my fortitude. I'd like to say we quietly grabbed our things and slipped out, but you know it didn't go like that. Oh no. Poor James picked up my Bible by the case, which was open, and out fell the Bible and three year's worth of notes and bulletins. You could see the, 'oh, man' look on his face. Smidge started yelling, "Mess! Mess! OH NO!" Emily's croaking like a frog by this point because I'm stooped down picking up papers, and she's slipped into a hold that vaguely resembles the way Penny from The Rescuers carried Mr. Rufus, the orphanage cat. And John, who had somehow migrated three seats away from us, was completely absorbed in whatever pastor was saying. We couldn't get his attention to tell him we're leaving. Thankfully James hopped over and tapped him on the shoulder before I had to start throwing small pencils at his head.

We did get out. In one piece. And I hugged each of the boys as I hoisted them into the Suburban. I let them know that they were awesome and sweet and wonderful and that I appreciated them tremendously. (Well, the big ones, anyway - Smidge, I just loved on and snuggled. He needed it.) It wasn't their fault. I'm just horribly outnumbered and not up to speed. But boy, did I feel like a total failure.

So. Next week, we'll try again. With a new plan of attack. We'll sit in the far back, which isn't great for the boys, but then I can get up and walk Emily if she gets fussy. It won't disturb the others, and will also allow me to be near the boys. (She was sound asleep not two miles down the road, by the way.) I've got to get a new printer so I can print out some things to distract Smidge, and do up the little activity booklets I used to do for the boys. Um... can you all think of anything else that might help? The lady who works in the nursery on Sunday mornings is awesome, and I'd feel comfortable leaving Smidge in her care, but right now he doesn't remember her (it's been about six months since we've been to a Sunday service) and he feels pretty abandoned. We'll have to work into that.

This has to be doable. It just has to. But I haven't the foggiest idea how to pull it off. Anybody out there keep several small children in church with them, on their own? Zorak may come with us once in a while, when the house is finished, but right now it's just lil' ol' me and the kids.

And in the meantime, we have a wonderful week spread out ahead of us!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Hi! :-)

Just a quick post since I MUST get to bed at a decent hour tonight!

The hallway has been textured. *whew* I'll prime it in the AM, before church, I hope.

The laundry room is both primed and painted. As soon as the paint dries (which may take a while - it's kinda humid today), the outlet covers go up and it is DONE. (It's so purdy!)

Zorak discovered a big, big surprise when he removed the back porch light to do the wiring, and he's now up to his elbows in mortar, new bricks, and miscellaneous other BIG repair jobs. We cannot wait to get rid of this horrible brick exterior - it's a poorly done job that's hung on far longer than the laws of physics would suggest possible.

The bathroom got paint touch-ups yesterday, and it looks much tidier now. All we lack for that room are the towels rods. Oh, and two neato mirrors for above the sinks. We were going to splurge at IKEA for the towel rods, but they're more money than we can honestly justify for something like that (as in, we would not get the enjoyment from them that we do from the curtain rod - now that was a good buy!) The mirrors we hope to find at a junk shop antique store.

We wanted to (finally) do the texture in the dining room today, but I used the rest of the joint compound texturing the hall, so it has to wait until tomorrow's Lowe's trip.

Zorak is so sweet. He's terribly excited about finishing the hallway. Do you know why? So we can hang the big family photo in the hall! Oh, I do love that man.

OK, he's back from the corner hardware store. I better get up and look active again! Thanks for taking a tea break with me (yes, it's hot in the south - time for suntea!)

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Three Day Weekends

Would you believe it took me three tries to type that title? Kept coming out "Three Dog Night". Weird.

Anyhow, these three-day weekends are nice. We get an extra half-day to work on the house, and an extra half-day to spend with the boys. Couldn't work out any nicer if we bribed someone!

Zorak got things lined up to rewire the master bedroom. I primed the laundry room and plotted the paint purchases for the rest of the things. Cleaned the texture pan (I know, it would be so much easier to just rinse it when I'm done, but I'm usually done when Emily suddenly decides she wanted to eat half an hour ago, so there's no time for tidiness.) Painted and tidied up the tidbits in the bathroom that need attention. Pretty laid-back day.

Oh, I did have to venture into town to get set up with a "Primary Care Physician". That was a nightmare. The doctor is nice enough. I'm sure she's competent. But I could just sense the polarization in the air with every question she asked. She is convinced I'm a lunatic, or severely delusional, at best. There's just no way, in her mind, I can be *this* happy, and *this* okay with my life when I have four children, homeschool, am remodeling a house and don't drink. Well, not heavily, anyway. And everytime she scrunched up her face in response to some answer I gave to her questions, all I could think was, "What?!?! What do you want me to say?"

She asked if I was losing weight since I'm nursing. I told her that I'd lost quite a bit, nearly to pre-pregnancy weight, but that according to her scale, it's levelled off now. She wanted to check my thyroid! What? Why!? I'm not tired. I'm not out of a normal, healthy weight range. I am experiencing absolutely no symptoms of an out-of-whack thyroid. Not one. I tried to explain that I'm a lot less active now that the baby has arrived than I was during my pregnancy. Now I just sit on my butt and cuddle children. We all know that's going to show up on the scale, eventually. She did that face scrunching thing again and said, "Oh, come ON! How could you possibly be LESS active? You have FOUR kids. *face scrunch* You're active." And then she scribbled something in my file. I have no idea what, but I don't think it was good. *sigh* We need a physician for the commune. Any takers?

That's about it. I'm going to see if the texture brush has let go of the dried on compound yet, and if so, I'm going to texture the hall. (It's never been pretty, so this is one part I've been anxious to see the final results on!)

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

General Blogging Entry

It's a little after ten and I'm going to post and pass out. Today was productive, busy, and active. Personally, I really hate days like this. They set the bar a little too high for my long-term comfort.

The boys awoke to a hot, fresh breakfast, a clean kitchen and Mom, ready to read.

The dog peed in the foyer again. He'd gotten really good about going outside and not having accidents (we've even been allowing him a bit more free roam time in the house) and then suddenly, he's begun this again. Whatever I've said about letting him live is now a bit tentative. He's back on probation and got to spend the day enjoying the out-of-doors, where I don't have to watch him like he's a nekkid two year old and he doesn't have to worry about bringing on the Wrath of Kahn.

The boys and I finally put up the ceiling fan blades, goobers and all, in their room. It does look cute, and the color combination is beginning to grow on me. Smidge and I did puzzles. James and I made robots. John and I made weapons. We had a great snack and more time spent reading together.

Around two, I began to exhibit symptoms of sudden-onset narcolepsy. It kicked in while I was reading aloud, which means I didn't realize I was asleep until the boys' raucous laughter awoke me. I fall asleep while reading quite a lot. LB calls it a "tip over". I don't actually tip over, though. I keep reading, but begin ad-libbing the storyline and making up words. The boys love it when that happens, but I fear being outed publicly, so I did what any nurturing mother would do: I laid on the couch to pass out and told the boys we should snuggle and watch a movie. They piled on with me and I slept through half of Polar Express. *streeeetch* Much better.

We all worked on the house, but didn't get the heavy moving done as I had Emily in the sling and couldn't contrive a way to haul the heavy stuff without mushing her little head. Zorak arrived home to the scent of supper cooking (red chile beef enchilada casserole with refried beans and a salad), and the boys helping out. John, up to his elbows in grated cheese, and smiling from ear to ear. Smidge, eating the cheese as fast as John could grate it, also smiling. James, singing down the hall, over the sound of the vacuum (when you try to vacuum the wall, the motor gets much noisier and you have to sing louder!) Thankfully, no love songs today.

The guys (including Zorak) worked on their snap circuits (semi-conductors, more fun than you thought!) while I finished supper, set the table, and then had the surreal experience of actually calling my crew to supper. It was lovely, but I doubt I can recreate that scene on a regular basis. I should have tried to channel Norman Rockwell to capture it for me. You know, for those days I can't clear the bar and get knocked on my tush.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

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?