Ok, well, you wouldn't know it from my blogging lately, but we've had a very good week or so around here.
Forever Home Update: We spent the weekend winterizing the Forever Home. Well, mostly we spent the weekend mentally heaping hot coals on whomever painted right over the screws on the storm windows. Our goal was to finish all the windows along the North side of the house. (It was a 3-day weekend. That sounded reasonable.) With a bit of fortitude, a few extra screwdriver bits, and a whole lot of stripper, we got a whopping *two* storm windows apart. WOOHOO! Zorak stripped the dining room windows (because those show up in Christmas photos, being right beside the tree - priorities, people!), and I got one storm window stripped and cleaned. Then the humidity shot up and we couldn't prime, but that's okay. Nothing says "Work in Progress" like panes of glass and bars of aluminum lying around the front yard, right?
Pickup: The pickup transmission doesn't need a "full" rebuild, but it does need some lovin' and a little chiropractic care. This is wonderful. It's wonderful because it's not the Suburban transmission, which would have cost six times what this one will. It's wonderful because we'll get another 180K miles before we need to do something else major. It's wonderful because... well, because if I don't focus on the wonderful things, I may go set The Mistress on fire and dance nekkid around it while she burns. Um, yeah. So, heh. This isn't so bad.
Visitors: We had a visitor last week. You know when you meet someone for the first time, and you feel almost instantly that this person (and his family) could be Really Good Friends? Yeah, it was like that.
Kids:
* The anole leaped from James' back yesterday while they were playing outside. I honestly can't believe the thing stayed on his shirt for so long (several hours). He looked and looked for it, but couldn't find it. However, he did ask that we keep the set-up so that he could get better prepared and try again.
* John's been reading to me in the mornings while I pretend to knit. That's good stuff, right there. I forgot how much it takes to learn to read aloud with inflection and cadence that match the story. He's improving on it, though, and is encouraged. I'm looking forward to more of this.
* Smidge is branching out. He's doing his own thing. He's making games for Emily to play with him. He's cracking more jokes (they still aren't funny, but he's making them up and running with it). We've broached the subject of a bigger bed for him (because he's huge, and he's four, and well, we're going to need that toddler bed soon), and he likes the general concept, but is determined we need a three-high bunk bed for this purpose. Uh, not with 8' ceilings, kiddo. Can you imagine scraping your forehead on the popcorn ceiling every. time. you. wake. Yeouch!
* EmBaby is. a. riot. Oh, my gosh, she's so stinking cute, we can't stand it. We made cookie bars a while back, and for some reason, she latched onto that. "Cookie bar?" She'll ask, in her wee little voice. Zorak would do just about anything for the squeal and the happy dance that accompany the cookie bars. So, he made some the other day, while she was napping. I got her up and we strolled hand-in-hand into the living room, when I asked her if she's like a cookie bar. She said, just as matter-of-factly as possible in a voice that small, "Yes, a cookie bar... and coffee?" Mmm, that's my girl!
OK, I think we're caught up, now. What have you all been up to? I could go get dressed, but I think I'm going to go read and visit, instead. See you on your front porch!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Wednesday, November 14
Tuesday, November 13
Baby Girl Hair
What do you do with Baby Girl Hair? Zorak and I both keep thinking she really needs a haircut, but... well, the "classic little boy cut" probably isn't the thing to do. Yet, that's all we can think of. I need hair help, here. (Ha. Alliteration in the morning - sorry.)
In the front, it's starting to get into her eyes. She's got that Detroit Rock City thing going.
From the back, she looks like an albino Rastafarian.
She has a moderate amount of hair (well, more than any of the boys at this age, anyway). And it's made of silk, I think. Other than the dreds, it's not going to hold anything like clippies. Not terribly long, yet, although it's hard to tell sometimes.
So... uh, do I just trim the bangs (fringe, whatever - the part above her forehead) and call it good for now? Keep brushing it to the side and hope it'll stay? Ignore it and pretend I don't know what people are talking about when they say we've got to do something with that child's hair? What do you do with Baby Girl Hair?
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
In the front, it's starting to get into her eyes. She's got that Detroit Rock City thing going.
From the back, she looks like an albino Rastafarian.
She has a moderate amount of hair (well, more than any of the boys at this age, anyway). And it's made of silk, I think. Other than the dreds, it's not going to hold anything like clippies. Not terribly long, yet, although it's hard to tell sometimes.
So... uh, do I just trim the bangs (fringe, whatever - the part above her forehead) and call it good for now? Keep brushing it to the side and hope it'll stay? Ignore it and pretend I don't know what people are talking about when they say we've got to do something with that child's hair? What do you do with Baby Girl Hair?
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Sunday, November 11
Long Time, No Blog
Sometimes, it's just not funny. Sometimes I can't find the words to be encouraging.
I look at the beetles coming in under the door, again, and think, "That's it. I'm setting this place on fire and moving into the barn." Not that that would reduce the beetle intrusion, but at least one would expect beetles in the barn.
I listen to someone pass along to me that somebody hurt someone else's feelings -- a situation I wasn't involved in and had no knowledge of beforehand -- and am yet expected to make-it-all-better, and I think, "Come ON, people! I can't even keep my stove clean enough to meet Waffle House standards! What makes you think I'm capable of dealing delicately with other people?!?"
I look at the sad, sad situations of people around us, and want to scream, "Stay away from me, you freaks!" Yet I know, in my heart, that we're all freaks, and we're all deserving of leeway and grace. And I know, above all, that if we want to make things better at all, we have to roll up our sleeves and do something to make it better. (Screaming and running generally doesn't do much to further that goal.)
I see that the dog got out of his pen. Again. I see that he not only chewed apart the slat woven into the wire, but then actually *removed* the pieces, set them aside, bent the wires out of the way, and *then* worked his way out from under the fence. And I start to really fear that he's not just a dog, but perhaps a very angry, very intelligent, very devious being who is planning our destruction for trying to keep him in the pen.
But the thing is, even when it's hard to find the humor, and it's challenging to find the grace, it's worth doing. It just doesn't necessarily come tripping off the tongue in a way that I think anyone would connect with. So I sit, and stare at the blinking curser, and think, "I'm going to bed."
On the upside, I've gotten quite a bit of sleep the past few days. But, sadly, not much else accomplished.
So, today we'll be putting in thresholds and weatherproofing doors and windows. We'll be reminding others that people enjoy participating in wonderful activities with other wonderful people. We'll be making plans to reach out in our community.And we'll be keeping far, far away from that scary dog. Erm, we'll work on the fence a little more and see how he outsmarts us this time. But more than that, hopefully, we'll show the boys that sometimes it's not the length of the stride, but the fact that you keep putting one foot in front of the other, that matters. (Right? I mean, they *will* get that, won't they? I sure hope so!)
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
I look at the beetles coming in under the door, again, and think, "That's it. I'm setting this place on fire and moving into the barn." Not that that would reduce the beetle intrusion, but at least one would expect beetles in the barn.
I listen to someone pass along to me that somebody hurt someone else's feelings -- a situation I wasn't involved in and had no knowledge of beforehand -- and am yet expected to make-it-all-better, and I think, "Come ON, people! I can't even keep my stove clean enough to meet Waffle House standards! What makes you think I'm capable of dealing delicately with other people?!?"
I look at the sad, sad situations of people around us, and want to scream, "Stay away from me, you freaks!" Yet I know, in my heart, that we're all freaks, and we're all deserving of leeway and grace. And I know, above all, that if we want to make things better at all, we have to roll up our sleeves and do something to make it better. (Screaming and running generally doesn't do much to further that goal.)
I see that the dog got out of his pen. Again. I see that he not only chewed apart the slat woven into the wire, but then actually *removed* the pieces, set them aside, bent the wires out of the way, and *then* worked his way out from under the fence. And I start to really fear that he's not just a dog, but perhaps a very angry, very intelligent, very devious being who is planning our destruction for trying to keep him in the pen.
But the thing is, even when it's hard to find the humor, and it's challenging to find the grace, it's worth doing. It just doesn't necessarily come tripping off the tongue in a way that I think anyone would connect with. So I sit, and stare at the blinking curser, and think, "I'm going to bed."
On the upside, I've gotten quite a bit of sleep the past few days. But, sadly, not much else accomplished.
So, today we'll be putting in thresholds and weatherproofing doors and windows. We'll be reminding others that people enjoy participating in wonderful activities with other wonderful people. We'll be making plans to reach out in our community.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Wednesday, November 7
Something New!
Well, it seems we have a new interest in the house...
um...
yay?
I don't know. James asks for so very little, and he is so happy with what he has. When he finds something that really makes his beanie twirl, I'm hesitant to say no.
And so, today we've been reading this, and this, and this...
*sigh*
Now to break the news to Zorak, who would have been happier to have an indoor cat.
um...
yay?
I don't know. James asks for so very little, and he is so happy with what he has. When he finds something that really makes his beanie twirl, I'm hesitant to say no.
And so, today we've been reading this, and this, and this...
*sigh*
Now to break the news to Zorak, who would have been happier to have an indoor cat.
Who Would DO This?
When we returned from our October travels, we noticed our lower meadow (between the barn and the creek) had been bush-hogged. We assumed it was our Bush Hog guy who had done it, perhaps as a thank-you for fostering his tractor while it was dead.
I talked to him last night, though, and guess what? His tractor is still in the shop. He didn't do it. He asked if whoever it was had perhaps baled it, but no, they didn't. Just mowed it down. (Not that having baled, and taken, our alfalfa would have been better, but considering how dry it's been, it would have made more sense, at least.)
The Ghost-Hogger didn't leave a note, a phone call, a crop circle. Nothing.
I suppose it's certainly better to have kind strangers stopping in to do odd things, than to have some of the other bizarre encounters we've dealt with. There's that. And thankfully, the barn's still standing. But this is still our property, and with everything else we have dealt with, I'm just not too tickled about having strangers on our property doing anything at all. Let alone major maintenance.
And above all, why would someone do that? Would you ever randomly mow other people's meadows? Is there someone with OCD issues about grass height roaming the county with a tractor? Is it one of the men we'd contracted with *back in the Spring* to come bush hog, who finally showed up and... why only do part of the job, then? Why not leave a note? Why not call?
Curiouser and curiouser...
Kiss those babies!
Dy
I talked to him last night, though, and guess what? His tractor is still in the shop. He didn't do it. He asked if whoever it was had perhaps baled it, but no, they didn't. Just mowed it down. (Not that having baled, and taken, our alfalfa would have been better, but considering how dry it's been, it would have made more sense, at least.)
The Ghost-Hogger didn't leave a note, a phone call, a crop circle. Nothing.
I suppose it's certainly better to have kind strangers stopping in to do odd things, than to have some of the other bizarre encounters we've dealt with. There's that. And thankfully, the barn's still standing. But this is still our property, and with everything else we have dealt with, I'm just not too tickled about having strangers on our property doing anything at all. Let alone major maintenance.
And above all, why would someone do that? Would you ever randomly mow other people's meadows? Is there someone with OCD issues about grass height roaming the county with a tractor? Is it one of the men we'd contracted with *back in the Spring* to come bush hog, who finally showed up and... why only do part of the job, then? Why not leave a note? Why not call?
Curiouser and curiouser...
Kiss those babies!
Dy
Monday, November 5
A Day...
Today is Monday. This may not be the best day to do "A Day in the Life". It is, after all, a Monday. But that's okay. 1/7th of my life is Mondays. They happen to the best of us. Anyhow, here's now the morning goes...
The alarm goes off. Zorak gets up and ready for work. I notice a draft and look around, wondering where my warmth went. It is still dark. I try to get up. It is very cold. He mumbles something at me. I mumble something back, and try to get up again. He tucks the covers over my shoulders and reminds me that I'm pregnant and it's okay not to get up with him in the mornings.
Yes, awww, that sounds very sweet. And he is very sweet. He's also not a morning person, and I suspect he doesn't want me following him around the house, getting more verbal with every sip of coffee. I smile and pull the covers back over my neck. I can appreciate that desire for quiet and solitude. I'll be begging for it around nine tonight.
I lay in bed, drifting in and out of sleep, appreciating the blankets and the insulation in the walls, until the light begins to filter into the basement, which alerts Houdini, down there, that he ought to be outside, planning his next escape. His baying drags me from my bed. Not so much out of sympathy for him, but out of fear that he'll wake the kids.
Start the coffee. It's a BUNN. I'm spoiled. It'll be ready by the time I find my shoes and pee. I'm still irritated that it can't sense my presence and start on its own. Our next BUNN will, at the very least, have the pour-n-serve option. In the meantime, we've both nearly mastered the tilt-n-switch method of getting coffee from the still-brewing pot. That corner of the kitchen gets cleaned quite often. I notice it still looks like we have a blind kitchen servant. Huh. Weird.
I grab my morning studies: Latin (Henle); math (yep, pre-calc, still, just like college); Bible; whatever I'm reading at the time (right now, I'm on week eighty-thousand of trying to slog through Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness). Head to the porch. The cold wind hits my face and I spill hot coffee on my feet. (There are burn holes on the tops of my feet that match the circles in my crocs - you'd think I'd learn by now -- stay inside, or put on different shoes.) Nevermind, I'll go hide in the school room.
I get about half my studies done before I take my computer break. If I'd risen with Zorak, I could have done it all. As it stands, I'm not giving up my email and brain candy and Very Important Board Time, just because I stayed in bed. We all have ways of rejuvenating and filling our tanks. Some people take long weekends in Vegas, some people sell products so they can go to training seminars, some have "Moms night out". I read email, peruse the news, and check on my homies and their blogs. This may also be why I'm still in pre-calc after two years. I know.
The boys start getting up. John first, always. He comes out dressed, hungry, and unaccountably perky. Have an apple and a glass of milk while we wait for your brothers. He sits at the breakfast bar with his Latin, munching away, waiting for me to emerge for more coffee. We hang out in the kitchen, doing Latin and chit-chatting about the day. I like this time with him. It's good stuff. We have about half an hour together before Smidge gets up.
Smidge comes out acting like he's been kept from us for months. In a dark, slimy dungeon. He's quiet. Almost tearful. Snuggly. Downright clingy. Please let his be a personality quirk and not a wheat allergy, I pray. He perks right up at the offer to grab a banana, and he asks if I've printed up his math page yet. No. I forgot about that. I slip off to print one out. Smidge and John find some way, while I'm doing that, to irritate each other and wake EmBaby.
Thankfully, she likes to stay in bed and talk to herself for about twenty minutes when she wakes up. She turns on her music, wraps her bunny in blankets, throws things out of her crib. If you go in and try to remove her before she has summoned you, it will get ugly. Just enjoy it. Relax. She's not going to be in therapy in 20 years because you left her in her crib in the mornings.
I get Smidge's paper printed and hand it over to him. I get John redirected on his worksheet. I get more coffee. I wander down the hall and do something loud, hoping it'll stir James. He's good about getting up if I ask him to get up, but I don't mind letting him sleep if we don't have anywhere to be. It's a good give-and-take situation. He stays up late, reading, which I can appreciate. He also seems to need more sleep lately. Heaven help me, those pants we just bought him won't fit much longer. Make a mental note to set money aside for pants sometime before Christmas.
John and Smidge pop in a short video. They used to watch PBS, but we can't get it on our rabbit ears anymore. This buys me time to get dressed (obviously, I'm not a FLYlady graduate) and make my bed. By the time I'm dressed, EmBaby's ready to get up and start her day.
I spend way too much time picking out something for her to wear before I remember I've got to find some kind of angle for her to want to wear it. It can be anything -- flowers, hearts, red piping -- but I've got to point it out before she can say "no" or it's all over and she'll end up in sweats and a tie-dyed t-shirt for the rest of the day. Fortunately, she has several tie-dyed t-shirts. One of the perks of being #4. Today I'm quick on the draw, and she's wearing the sweater with the "bearses" on it. We head into the kitchen and start breakfast.
John follows me back into the kitchen and finishes his Latin. Heh. I knew he wasn't done yet. (But I did need to get dressed.) Whoever is up gets to help with breakfast. This morning it's yogurt, toast with peanut butter and honey (pb&j for Em), fresh fruit, and milk. Most mornings it's eggs and sausage, toast with Granny jelly (cactus apple jelly the boys' Granny makes and stocks us up with every year), fruit, and milk. Or oats. Oats are always good if I get on it before they get up.
By the time breakfast is ready, John's done with his Latin and is working on his reading. Smidge has done his math and a few maze pages. He's running laps through the kitchen. James is up and making hot tea to go with his breakfast. We all eat, I read their Bible study, we do a little for-fun reading, and go over the day's plans. This part strikes me as funny, because I feel like Pinky and the Brain, "it's the same thing we do every night, Pinky..." The older boys get it when I laugh to myself over that. The younger children think I'm just happy. That works.
After breakfast, things break down a bit into a semi-controlled chaos. James starts with his reading, then on to math, and finally Latin. He and John are in two different books, so that works out easier than trying to do blocks-by-subject. As long as they get those three subjects done before mid-morning, we're good. John finishes his reading and starts his math. Smidge forgets he already did math, and does another math project. Then he puts on James' Superman costume and makes laps through the kitchen again. This time, pushing a pirate ship. He and EmBaby race ships around the house. Some days, I think we should have stuck with a dead-end galley layout. Most days, though, I don't mind. I like the noise and the chaos. I don't know when I began to like it, but I do. The older boys don't seem to mind much, either. If the noise gets to them, they'll pick up their books and disperse to the bedrooms for a little quiet study time. Mostly, though, this is just "how it is", and they're good about ignoring it.
Lessons do take longer this year than they did last year. Not because I've increased the boys' workload significantly, but because the boys have discovered they're funny. Really funny. Honestly-able-to-crack-Mom-up, funny. And they make use of that. I don't do such a good job of keeping them from making jokes, but it is challenging to be the straight man to these guys.
Of course, it's not all high-quality Night At The Improv. John offers to gargle his math answers for me today. When I decline, he has a stream of other options: snort, belch, say them with a full mouth. Ah, yes. Yes, this is why Other Mothers keep it in check. Much to his disappointment, I decline even the gas-based answer method, and suggest, instead, that perhaps he could write his answers instead of giving them orally. He decides plain old English is just fine, thanks, and we finish in record time.
Smidge slams into the hall door frame. EmBaby, coming in a close second in the Brigand Regatta, ploughs right over the wreckage. While I disentangle small, angry survivors from the disaster, the older boys decide it's time for a break. They head outside to burn leaves, train lizards, and feed the dog. I get the littles sorted and send them back to the docks with their ships for refitting, then sit down for a bit of a coffee break and another chapter in my reading.
I'll post the second half of the day later.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
*Edited to add a link to Part 2.*
The alarm goes off. Zorak gets up and ready for work. I notice a draft and look around, wondering where my warmth went. It is still dark. I try to get up. It is very cold. He mumbles something at me. I mumble something back, and try to get up again. He tucks the covers over my shoulders and reminds me that I'm pregnant and it's okay not to get up with him in the mornings.
Yes, awww, that sounds very sweet. And he is very sweet. He's also not a morning person, and I suspect he doesn't want me following him around the house, getting more verbal with every sip of coffee. I smile and pull the covers back over my neck. I can appreciate that desire for quiet and solitude. I'll be begging for it around nine tonight.
I lay in bed, drifting in and out of sleep, appreciating the blankets and the insulation in the walls, until the light begins to filter into the basement, which alerts Houdini, down there, that he ought to be outside, planning his next escape. His baying drags me from my bed. Not so much out of sympathy for him, but out of fear that he'll wake the kids.
Start the coffee. It's a BUNN. I'm spoiled. It'll be ready by the time I find my shoes and pee. I'm still irritated that it can't sense my presence and start on its own. Our next BUNN will, at the very least, have the pour-n-serve option. In the meantime, we've both nearly mastered the tilt-n-switch method of getting coffee from the still-brewing pot. That corner of the kitchen gets cleaned quite often. I notice it still looks like we have a blind kitchen servant. Huh. Weird.
I grab my morning studies: Latin (Henle); math (yep, pre-calc, still, just like college); Bible; whatever I'm reading at the time (right now, I'm on week eighty-thousand of trying to slog through Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness). Head to the porch. The cold wind hits my face and I spill hot coffee on my feet. (There are burn holes on the tops of my feet that match the circles in my crocs - you'd think I'd learn by now -- stay inside, or put on different shoes.) Nevermind, I'll go hide in the school room.
I get about half my studies done before I take my computer break. If I'd risen with Zorak, I could have done it all. As it stands, I'm not giving up my email and brain candy and Very Important Board Time, just because I stayed in bed. We all have ways of rejuvenating and filling our tanks. Some people take long weekends in Vegas, some people sell products so they can go to training seminars, some have "Moms night out". I read email, peruse the news, and check on my homies and their blogs. This may also be why I'm still in pre-calc after two years. I know.
The boys start getting up. John first, always. He comes out dressed, hungry, and unaccountably perky. Have an apple and a glass of milk while we wait for your brothers. He sits at the breakfast bar with his Latin, munching away, waiting for me to emerge for more coffee. We hang out in the kitchen, doing Latin and chit-chatting about the day. I like this time with him. It's good stuff. We have about half an hour together before Smidge gets up.
Smidge comes out acting like he's been kept from us for months. In a dark, slimy dungeon. He's quiet. Almost tearful. Snuggly. Downright clingy. Please let his be a personality quirk and not a wheat allergy, I pray. He perks right up at the offer to grab a banana, and he asks if I've printed up his math page yet. No. I forgot about that. I slip off to print one out. Smidge and John find some way, while I'm doing that, to irritate each other and wake EmBaby.
Thankfully, she likes to stay in bed and talk to herself for about twenty minutes when she wakes up. She turns on her music, wraps her bunny in blankets, throws things out of her crib. If you go in and try to remove her before she has summoned you, it will get ugly. Just enjoy it. Relax. She's not going to be in therapy in 20 years because you left her in her crib in the mornings.
I get Smidge's paper printed and hand it over to him. I get John redirected on his worksheet. I get more coffee. I wander down the hall and do something loud, hoping it'll stir James. He's good about getting up if I ask him to get up, but I don't mind letting him sleep if we don't have anywhere to be. It's a good give-and-take situation. He stays up late, reading, which I can appreciate. He also seems to need more sleep lately. Heaven help me, those pants we just bought him won't fit much longer. Make a mental note to set money aside for pants sometime before Christmas.
John and Smidge pop in a short video. They used to watch PBS, but we can't get it on our rabbit ears anymore. This buys me time to get dressed (obviously, I'm not a FLYlady graduate) and make my bed. By the time I'm dressed, EmBaby's ready to get up and start her day.
I spend way too much time picking out something for her to wear before I remember I've got to find some kind of angle for her to want to wear it. It can be anything -- flowers, hearts, red piping -- but I've got to point it out before she can say "no" or it's all over and she'll end up in sweats and a tie-dyed t-shirt for the rest of the day. Fortunately, she has several tie-dyed t-shirts. One of the perks of being #4. Today I'm quick on the draw, and she's wearing the sweater with the "bearses" on it. We head into the kitchen and start breakfast.
John follows me back into the kitchen and finishes his Latin. Heh. I knew he wasn't done yet. (But I did need to get dressed.) Whoever is up gets to help with breakfast. This morning it's yogurt, toast with peanut butter and honey (pb&j for Em), fresh fruit, and milk. Most mornings it's eggs and sausage, toast with Granny jelly (cactus apple jelly the boys' Granny makes and stocks us up with every year), fruit, and milk. Or oats. Oats are always good if I get on it before they get up.
By the time breakfast is ready, John's done with his Latin and is working on his reading. Smidge has done his math and a few maze pages. He's running laps through the kitchen. James is up and making hot tea to go with his breakfast. We all eat, I read their Bible study, we do a little for-fun reading, and go over the day's plans. This part strikes me as funny, because I feel like Pinky and the Brain, "it's the same thing we do every night, Pinky..." The older boys get it when I laugh to myself over that. The younger children think I'm just happy. That works.
After breakfast, things break down a bit into a semi-controlled chaos. James starts with his reading, then on to math, and finally Latin. He and John are in two different books, so that works out easier than trying to do blocks-by-subject. As long as they get those three subjects done before mid-morning, we're good. John finishes his reading and starts his math. Smidge forgets he already did math, and does another math project. Then he puts on James' Superman costume and makes laps through the kitchen again. This time, pushing a pirate ship. He and EmBaby race ships around the house. Some days, I think we should have stuck with a dead-end galley layout. Most days, though, I don't mind. I like the noise and the chaos. I don't know when I began to like it, but I do. The older boys don't seem to mind much, either. If the noise gets to them, they'll pick up their books and disperse to the bedrooms for a little quiet study time. Mostly, though, this is just "how it is", and they're good about ignoring it.
Lessons do take longer this year than they did last year. Not because I've increased the boys' workload significantly, but because the boys have discovered they're funny. Really funny. Honestly-able-to-crack-Mom-up, funny. And they make use of that. I don't do such a good job of keeping them from making jokes, but it is challenging to be the straight man to these guys.
Of course, it's not all high-quality Night At The Improv. John offers to gargle his math answers for me today. When I decline, he has a stream of other options: snort, belch, say them with a full mouth. Ah, yes. Yes, this is why Other Mothers keep it in check. Much to his disappointment, I decline even the gas-based answer method, and suggest, instead, that perhaps he could write his answers instead of giving them orally. He decides plain old English is just fine, thanks, and we finish in record time.
Smidge slams into the hall door frame. EmBaby, coming in a close second in the Brigand Regatta, ploughs right over the wreckage. While I disentangle small, angry survivors from the disaster, the older boys decide it's time for a break. They head outside to burn leaves, train lizards, and feed the dog. I get the littles sorted and send them back to the docks with their ships for refitting, then sit down for a bit of a coffee break and another chapter in my reading.
I'll post the second half of the day later.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
*Edited to add a link to Part 2.*
Sunday, November 4
You've Got To Make Time
There will always be things to do: bills to pay, repairs to make, chores to do, errands to run. You could live the life of The Highlander, and never, ever run out of things to do. (Not even when there was Only One...)
But some things, you (I, we) don't have all the time in the world for...
So when you have a sunny afternoon, and the boy needs his bike fixed, it's good to fix it, together,
And to set lunch at the picnic table, instead of inside, just because,
And enjoy hearing the oldest child read to the baby,
while the baby swings on the bench.
When the sun set on that day, we hadn't performed any great renovation-oriented feats, nor had we produced a spotless, showroom-quality living space.
But it was time well spent. Time we cannot have to do again. And that's okay, because we won't need to.
Now, if only we can remember that more often, right? ;-)
Make time, and enjoy it!
And kiss those babies!
~Dy
But some things, you (I, we) don't have all the time in the world for...
So when you have a sunny afternoon, and the boy needs his bike fixed, it's good to fix it, together,
And to set lunch at the picnic table, instead of inside, just because,
And enjoy hearing the oldest child read to the baby,
while the baby swings on the bench.
When the sun set on that day, we hadn't performed any great renovation-oriented feats, nor had we produced a spotless, showroom-quality living space.
But it was time well spent. Time we cannot have to do again. And that's okay, because we won't need to.
Now, if only we can remember that more often, right? ;-)
Make time, and enjoy it!
And kiss those babies!
~Dy
Friday, November 2
Customer Service
You know, sometimes you just feel like you have to brace yourself for dealing with Customer Service Reps...
Today, I called AT&T to make some changes to our account. I was ready for a hassle just getting to a human, let alone getting the changes made. They have a handy call-back service now. If you don't want to wait for a human, you can have them call you when a human is available. Hey, cool. So I put my name down and went about my business, waiting for my human.
Then, I got a nice human when the call came in. I really appreciate that. She logged in all my changes, and we were just about ready to go, when she said, "WAIT a minute... hang on..." I waited and hung while she tippity-tapped, and then she said, "What about doing d,f,q instead of just a,b,c? You could still cut your base rate by $20 a month, get unlimited long distance, and keep your whosits and dodads." Did ya see that big ol' bomb, there? She just breezed through it like it wasn't a big deal. Whoa-whoa-whoa, did you say 'Unlimited Long Distance'? "Yes, as you can keep..." Yeah, yeah, okay. Whatever. Hang on.
HONEY!?!?! Do you want to lower our monthly rate by twenty bucks and have unlimited long distance included in our bill? (He looked at me like I was either making this up, or toying with him by asking stupid questions, which I took for an affirmative, and signed us up with that plan.) And you know, I knew this. I knew that it's a good idea to call on occasion and make sure you've got the best deal available. But, well, I dropped the ball and haven't called them in eons.
Well, that got me all pumped up and ready to redo the Federal budget. However, seeing as I am fresh out of Security Clearances, I figured I'd go after our cell phone problem. (The problem being we're two years past the expiration on our two-year contract, and we're getting jaked royally on minutes -- but I'm not "authorized" to make changes to the account.) So we loaded everybody up and drove into town to deal with this issue.
Not only did the Very Helpful Man at Verizon get us squared away with a new deal, and a better discount, he back-dated our new plan to the beginning of this billing cycle. (Because, as he put it, "If we change it now, your next bill will be a bit schitzo.")
On the drive home, I was so incredibly pumped up by the two experiences that I was absolutely dying to find somebody else to do business with. Sadly, by then, the Social Security office was closed. Bummer. Wouldn't it have been wonderful to catch them on this, the Unofficial Very Good Customer Service Day? Yeah, I thought so, too.
But it's okay. We've still got the teeth all ready for Monday when the Social Security office is open again! :-)
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Thursday, November 1
What Characters
The kids had such a nice time last night. Claudia and her herd came with us. The kids haven't seen each other most of the summer, between her travel schedule and ours, and you'd have thought they'd found long-lost relatives. It was very sweet.
We started out at the library, which was... weird. Just. Weird. I'll fill y'all in on that, later, because I don't want to sully the cute kid pictures with the weirdness. Thankfully, we were able to get out unscathed, and head to the sweet neighborhood over by the ball park.
I had one panic attack when, in the dark, I could only find seven children. Then everyone panicked over the missing child. Eventually, well, we remembered Claudia's a slacker and only has three. So there were only supposed to be seven children. We stopped trying to find someone else's child and continued on.
Zorak brought the wagon for the small ones, EmBaby and Luci (the "baby grill", as her brothers call her). That worked out beautifully. The babies only hit one side of the street, too, while the boys all zig-zagged back and forth. Worked like a charm: Smidge was out cold before we got home, and the older two happily ate, brushed, jammied, and climbed into bed to read Treasure Island with me. Unfortunately, as I had zig-zag duty with the boys, I didn't make it through the chapter, and John had to do the reading for us. (That was kind of nice, though, having someone read to me before bed.) And he was glad to be reading it. James said he was "too tired even to listen" and passed out two sentences into it.
We started out at the library, which was... weird. Just. Weird. I'll fill y'all in on that, later, because I don't want to sully the cute kid pictures with the weirdness. Thankfully, we were able to get out unscathed, and head to the sweet neighborhood over by the ball park.
I had one panic attack when, in the dark, I could only find seven children. Then everyone panicked over the missing child. Eventually, well, we remembered Claudia's a slacker and only has three. So there were only supposed to be seven children. We stopped trying to find someone else's child and continued on.
Zorak brought the wagon for the small ones, EmBaby and Luci (the "baby grill", as her brothers call her). That worked out beautifully. The babies only hit one side of the street, too, while the boys all zig-zagged back and forth. Worked like a charm: Smidge was out cold before we got home, and the older two happily ate, brushed, jammied, and climbed into bed to read Treasure Island with me. Unfortunately, as I had zig-zag duty with the boys, I didn't make it through the chapter, and John had to do the reading for us. (That was kind of nice, though, having someone read to me before bed.) And he was glad to be reading it. James said he was "too tired even to listen" and passed out two sentences into it.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Wednesday, October 31
It's a happy halloween
Smidge came running into the kitchen yesterday morning, announcing, "It's Halloween!" When I told him it wouldn't be until today, he burst into tears and went back to bed. I want to remember to live with that much passion. Can you imagine looking forward to something so much that you were that crestfallen to realize it's not here yet? The key, I suppose, is in learning to control how we respond to disappointments, without losing that fervor. Passion and love with control and respect. It's a lifelong process, no?
But now, it's here. When SleepyHeadedJames gets up, we'll have pumpkin pancakes, and then the hoardes can suit up. (I try to be fun about all this, but I refuse to haul little sticky creatures around with me all day, like giant lint rollers for all the debris on the streets. Blech. Eat first, then get costumed.)
I know Thanksgiving doesn't come, officially, for another month. But this morning, walking around in the chilled, dewy morning, I couldn't help but make a mental note of all we have to be thankful for: bills are mostly paid; inside the house feels significantly warmer than the outside does; there are all the ingredients in the kitchen we need to make a healthful, delicious breakfast; we have friendship, joy, and love in our lives. My list went on, getting down to the mundane, and probably the ridiculous, but I couldn't help it. Socks. I am so thankful for warm socks. Baby giggles, and big brothers, and stoopid dogs. Just so much that I'm thankful for, and that I've got a passion for.
If I woke up tomorrow to find I'd lost these babies, and our warm bed, or my wonderful husband, I'd cry and go back to bed (or some fascimile of), too. I'm not sure what "appropriate" would mean in a situation like that (yet, here I am, in charge of teaching it to these little ones). I know, in my mind, that there is always something to be thankful for. My heart doesn't always see that. I also know, in my mind, that sometimes we forget to appreciate and cherish the things that mean the most to us. Until we lose them. I don't want to force that hand, really. I want to love, and cherish, and honor all my blessings right now, while I can, while it will matter, while they are mine. Messy, noisy, sticky, wonderful blessings of this life. They're my gifts, and I am thankful. In my heart and my mind.
Kiss those babies! And Happy Halloween!
Dy
But now, it's here. When SleepyHeadedJames gets up, we'll have pumpkin pancakes, and then the hoardes can suit up. (I try to be fun about all this, but I refuse to haul little sticky creatures around with me all day, like giant lint rollers for all the debris on the streets. Blech. Eat first, then get costumed.)
I know Thanksgiving doesn't come, officially, for another month. But this morning, walking around in the chilled, dewy morning, I couldn't help but make a mental note of all we have to be thankful for: bills are mostly paid; inside the house feels significantly warmer than the outside does; there are all the ingredients in the kitchen we need to make a healthful, delicious breakfast; we have friendship, joy, and love in our lives. My list went on, getting down to the mundane, and probably the ridiculous, but I couldn't help it. Socks. I am so thankful for warm socks. Baby giggles, and big brothers, and stoopid dogs. Just so much that I'm thankful for, and that I've got a passion for.
If I woke up tomorrow to find I'd lost these babies, and our warm bed, or my wonderful husband, I'd cry and go back to bed (or some fascimile of), too. I'm not sure what "appropriate" would mean in a situation like that (yet, here I am, in charge of teaching it to these little ones). I know, in my mind, that there is always something to be thankful for. My heart doesn't always see that. I also know, in my mind, that sometimes we forget to appreciate and cherish the things that mean the most to us. Until we lose them. I don't want to force that hand, really. I want to love, and cherish, and honor all my blessings right now, while I can, while it will matter, while they are mine. Messy, noisy, sticky, wonderful blessings of this life. They're my gifts, and I am thankful. In my heart and my mind.
Kiss those babies! And Happy Halloween!
Dy
Monday, October 29
For Those Who Worry (Baby Update)
All's well. Baby5 is measuring just fine @ 18 - 1/2 weeks. I've gained seven pounds so far. Heartbeat is strong and regular. And if you're the technical type, the UA came back clean. ;-)
We have a number to call for an OB who will do an ultrasound. She'd like us to go in sometime this month. I can't believe it's *that* far along, already. Wow. Time really does fly when... well, when you have a lot of kids and don't keep your wall calendar up to date.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
We have a number to call for an OB who will do an ultrasound. She'd like us to go in sometime this month. I can't believe it's *that* far along, already. Wow. Time really does fly when... well, when you have a lot of kids and don't keep your wall calendar up to date.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
The Appointment That Just Won't Be
I swear we aren't doing this on purpose. The phone just rang. It's the midwife, asking if we're still on for this morning.
This morning?
Yeah, you have an appointment this morning.
(She woke me up when she called... through the fog, I could tell the coffee pot wasn't on, but that's about all that clicked.) Um, what... what time this morning?
You're appointment is at nine.
A glance at the clock tells me it's 8:30. Wow. Yeah, we are so not going to make that one. Nobody's up. Charles is gone, so I'm guessing the alarm went off at *some* point, but the rest of us? Out cold.
This wouldn't be a problem, except she and I have been playing musical appointments for the last two months. I'm sure she's starting to think I am a complete flake. We had one appointment scheduled, pending a quarry day. Come the day of the appointment, there was a quarry day. So, I didn't go. Neither did she, so that was all okay.
Em kept us up all night the night before the next appointment. Then the midwife had a birth and missed the following appointment. I don't know why we missed the one after that, but we rescheduled and then were in New Mexico for that one. (I made Charles call and cancel that appointment. Yes, I am a coward. He said she sounded skeptical, too.) Later on, I rescheduled for the Monday after we returned from New Mexico, only to remember a few hours later that I had no transportation. So. We rescheduled for... this morning.
She can see me at noon today. Think I can make it? Everybody's up now. And talking. Nonstop. (As if I'm capable of caring about the price of crabby patties before I've had a cup of coffee... it's amazing.)
John's fever broke around one this morning. That's when I went to bed. I'd like to be there, now, to be honest, all tucked in and sleeping. But did I mention they're all up? And talking? Ugh. It's going to be a long, long day. However, at least they all sound healthy and happy. That's good. I hope they'll take care of me when I'm sick, one day. :-)
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
This morning?
Yeah, you have an appointment this morning.
(She woke me up when she called... through the fog, I could tell the coffee pot wasn't on, but that's about all that clicked.) Um, what... what time this morning?
You're appointment is at nine.
A glance at the clock tells me it's 8:30. Wow. Yeah, we are so not going to make that one. Nobody's up. Charles is gone, so I'm guessing the alarm went off at *some* point, but the rest of us? Out cold.
This wouldn't be a problem, except she and I have been playing musical appointments for the last two months. I'm sure she's starting to think I am a complete flake. We had one appointment scheduled, pending a quarry day. Come the day of the appointment, there was a quarry day. So, I didn't go. Neither did she, so that was all okay.
Em kept us up all night the night before the next appointment. Then the midwife had a birth and missed the following appointment. I don't know why we missed the one after that, but we rescheduled and then were in New Mexico for that one. (I made Charles call and cancel that appointment. Yes, I am a coward. He said she sounded skeptical, too.) Later on, I rescheduled for the Monday after we returned from New Mexico, only to remember a few hours later that I had no transportation. So. We rescheduled for... this morning.
She can see me at noon today. Think I can make it? Everybody's up now. And talking. Nonstop. (As if I'm capable of caring about the price of crabby patties before I've had a cup of coffee... it's amazing.)
John's fever broke around one this morning. That's when I went to bed. I'd like to be there, now, to be honest, all tucked in and sleeping. But did I mention they're all up? And talking? Ugh. It's going to be a long, long day. However, at least they all sound healthy and happy. That's good. I hope they'll take care of me when I'm sick, one day. :-)
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Sunday, October 28
Huh.
Let's file this under the "Thank heaven these things aren't really this size" category, shall we? (The big bush in front of it is probably three, or three-and-a-half feet tall. Yikes.)
I had a bunch to say. Then John came down sick. At first, it was "cranky, headachy" sick. (Which can often be confused with "don't wanna unload the dishwasher" sick, so I didn't worry too much.) But come bedtime, he had that Kill Me Now look on his face, and he didn't laugh at any of the funny parts of the story. (Which could also be my reading skills, so again, not much worry.) Till I reached over to kiss him goodnight, and he was hot to the touch. Gah.
For future reference, the thermometers are in the shallow drawer beneath the bathroom sink. I say this now, because I will not remember the next time we need to find them. (There are several in there - you'd think I'd strew them about the place, to increase the odds that we'll find one when we need it, huh? Nope. Everybody needs a good panicky sensation once in a while.)
He's tucked in and sound asleep, with a cup of ginger ale and a box of tissues by his bedside. I hated to dose him up, but his fever was high enough that we felt it'd be best to let him get some rest, so he's been dosed and snuggled, and instructed to beat on something if he has trouble breathing. (I'm sure that was a comforting thing to hear, huh? Oh, well, he's asleep now.)
And with that, I'm just going to go sit watch. Because sometimes, that's what you do.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Friday, October 26
Friday!
Some people will be posting Fine Art Friday. Not me. I don't think we even have a working Etch-A-Sketch anymore. But that's okay. It's still Friday. WOOHOO!
The boys last night wanted to know when we were going to decorate for Halloween. Huh? Decorate for Halloween? What do you mean? Didn't ya see the cobwebs over the porch door frame? The spiders in the windows? If that isn't Authentic Halloween Decor, I don't know what is! John got all misty-eyed, and said, "I miss Maryland." (OH! Yeah. Miss Erin, our wonderful neighbor there, has this hideous ability to do crafty things for holidays. And I could take advantage of going down there to drink her coffee and let my kids do crafty things on her back porch rather than on our white carpet. It seemed so easy at the time. I forgot. I'll have to have a talk with her about setting the bar way too high on this issue.)
Honestly, I can't believe they don't know by now that I'm Really Bad At That Stuff. I don't decorate for anything but Christmas, and that has to be done surrepetitiously because Zorak doesn't decorate for Christmas without wifely bribes and a blood oath that I'll keep the radio off the Christmas Music Station. So, truthfully, I think they knew what they were doing in suggesting this activity. Great, holiday mafia. Perhaps they'll work for Hallmark one day.
So. Because I am a softie, I'm hoping I can just break out the window markers and craft paper and let them design their own window decorations. We don't have white carpet in this house, so I don't care what they do on the floors! (Yes, decorator choices via lifestyle weaknesses. It's all the rage among, well, parents.)
At least they'll have costumes. Mostly. Maybe. EmBaby will be a lion. (The same lion Smidge was our first Halloween here in AL. I cannot believe she's that big, already.) Smidge, who, for the past *year*, has wanted to be a pirate, saw the snake costume last night and decided on the spot that there's nothing more he'd like to be than a 'nake. *sniff* That was John's costume. Er, when he was two... I'm not sure it'll fit, but we'll give it a shot. John's costume seemed so easy, particularly since we have Zorak's graduation robe to alter into a Hogwart's robe. But I'm having trouble locating it, now. And the glasses? The wand? A tie? How can something so popular be so difficult to shop for? I don't get it. And then there is James. Superman "for the third year running" - it's more of an internal competition for him, I think. Seemed easy enough. However, there is not, it seems, a Superman costume in size 10, anywhere in Madison county. We'll try Morgan county today. I asked James what his backup plan was, and he said, "Oh. Well, my backup plan is to ask you to make one." Heh. Yeah. Not when we've been gone this much, and we're 24 hours out from the party. No. Keep brainstorming, kiddo. Perhaps you can go as The Neglected Child.
I don't really need a housekeeper, or a laundress. Not even a cook. What I really, desperately need is a Holiday Nanny. Somebody to come swooping in about three weeks before each major holiday and whip us into shape. Then go. Leave. I'm not equipped to handle that much extra laundry and clean-up duty year-round.
But since we don't have that, we'll make do. And it'll be okay. (But Erin, if you get a box with air holes in it, open immediately. It'll have holiday-deprived children in it!)
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
The boys last night wanted to know when we were going to decorate for Halloween. Huh? Decorate for Halloween? What do you mean? Didn't ya see the cobwebs over the porch door frame? The spiders in the windows? If that isn't Authentic Halloween Decor, I don't know what is! John got all misty-eyed, and said, "I miss Maryland." (OH! Yeah. Miss Erin, our wonderful neighbor there, has this hideous ability to do crafty things for holidays. And I could take advantage of going down there to drink her coffee and let my kids do crafty things on her back porch rather than on our white carpet. It seemed so easy at the time. I forgot. I'll have to have a talk with her about setting the bar way too high on this issue.)
Honestly, I can't believe they don't know by now that I'm Really Bad At That Stuff. I don't decorate for anything but Christmas, and that has to be done surrepetitiously because Zorak doesn't decorate for Christmas without wifely bribes and a blood oath that I'll keep the radio off the Christmas Music Station. So, truthfully, I think they knew what they were doing in suggesting this activity. Great, holiday mafia. Perhaps they'll work for Hallmark one day.
So. Because I am a softie, I'm hoping I can just break out the window markers and craft paper and let them design their own window decorations. We don't have white carpet in this house, so I don't care what they do on the floors! (Yes, decorator choices via lifestyle weaknesses. It's all the rage among, well, parents.)
At least they'll have costumes. Mostly. Maybe. EmBaby will be a lion. (The same lion Smidge was our first Halloween here in AL. I cannot believe she's that big, already.) Smidge, who, for the past *year*, has wanted to be a pirate, saw the snake costume last night and decided on the spot that there's nothing more he'd like to be than a 'nake. *sniff* That was John's costume. Er, when he was two... I'm not sure it'll fit, but we'll give it a shot. John's costume seemed so easy, particularly since we have Zorak's graduation robe to alter into a Hogwart's robe. But I'm having trouble locating it, now. And the glasses? The wand? A tie? How can something so popular be so difficult to shop for? I don't get it. And then there is James. Superman "for the third year running" - it's more of an internal competition for him, I think. Seemed easy enough. However, there is not, it seems, a Superman costume in size 10, anywhere in Madison county. We'll try Morgan county today. I asked James what his backup plan was, and he said, "Oh. Well, my backup plan is to ask you to make one." Heh. Yeah. Not when we've been gone this much, and we're 24 hours out from the party. No. Keep brainstorming, kiddo. Perhaps you can go as The Neglected Child.
I don't really need a housekeeper, or a laundress. Not even a cook. What I really, desperately need is a Holiday Nanny. Somebody to come swooping in about three weeks before each major holiday and whip us into shape. Then go. Leave. I'm not equipped to handle that much extra laundry and clean-up duty year-round.
But since we don't have that, we'll make do. And it'll be okay. (But Erin, if you get a box with air holes in it, open immediately. It'll have holiday-deprived children in it!)
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Thursday, October 25
Dental Update
Zorak just called. He didn't give details, but a basic report:
No New Cavities on any of the boys!
WOOHOO!
OK, no matter what else might be a mess right now, all is right with my world, for a few, brief moments.
James does have some "deep fissures" on his back molars that they'd like to seal in the next few months, and that's a-okay with me. It's worth the money for the added protection. (You know, when we talked about the characteristics and traits we hoped each child would inherit, my teeth were nowhere on the list. *sigh* Poor kids.)
I'm off to make biscuits, gravy, and eggs for a late brunch. Happy Day.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
No New Cavities on any of the boys!
WOOHOO!
OK, no matter what else might be a mess right now, all is right with my world, for a few, brief moments.
James does have some "deep fissures" on his back molars that they'd like to seal in the next few months, and that's a-okay with me. It's worth the money for the added protection. (You know, when we talked about the characteristics and traits we hoped each child would inherit, my teeth were nowhere on the list. *sigh* Poor kids.)
I'm off to make biscuits, gravy, and eggs for a late brunch. Happy Day.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Late Night Recap
Zorak brought me a small creamer to tide me over until tomorrow's grocery run. Is that love, or what?
The boys get to go to the dentist tomorrow. Seriously, they're psyched about it. Smidge and John both want to make sure they get up early enough to spike their hair (it finally came out that this desire to have 'pikey hair, as Smidge calls it, comes from Dr. B, who does, in fact, have very 'pikey hair). Smidge also informed me while we flossed that he's considering dentistry, rather than engineering. What the older two will do with their plans for a wholly sibling-run engineering firm, I don't know. Perhaps they can contract with him for employee dental care?
Truthfully, I don't get it, but I am not. saying. a word. Know what I mean? If a dentist can inspire this kind of confidence and admiration in children who've been under his drill, then there's got to be something to it, I think. Plus, all the work he's done has actually stayed done. I have no problem coughing up the money for the cool surf-board-style chairs when the work is done well. AND (as if we need more reasons?), his office staff is stellar about scheduling as many children as possible all in one block. That can't be easy for them, to have us loitering there for hours on end, but it's a significant help to me not to make the 45 min. drive more often than absolutely necessary, or have to stay in town for several hours between appointments. So, off we go in the morning, and hopefully their teeth haven't gotten worse since the last check up. *fingers crossed*
In honor of the chilly weather, and the fact that the children spent the day wearing their blankets like sarapes, we brought up the winter clothes tonight. Looks like Smidge and Em are set. Still not sure on John. He's at such a strange point with his growth. Anything from a 6 to a 10 might fit, but you'll just have to try it to know for sure. And James is going to have to come shopping with me tomorrow afternoon. There's just no two ways about it. Thankfully, he has shoes, so I won't be faced with the same emotional trauma Mere experienced the other day. I can happily plug my ears and sing to myself and not look at the size tags. (I'm thinking a similar approach may come in handy when he shows an interest in girls, too. Sort of a self-preservation Tourette's. Every time he mentions a girl-who-is-just-a-friend, I can shriek loudly and start humming to myself. I'll let ya'll know how that pans out.)
The Week of the One Vehicle Family may soon be at an end. Let us all pause while I sigh in relief. It's not that we go anywhere, really, or that we've gone without at all (Zorak calls on his way home everyday to see if we need something). It's just that I've spent the week with one heck of an eye twitch, regularly threatening the children with bodily harm if they so much as come close to needing a trip to the ER while Zorak's at work. Yes, I see the irony in that. Thankfully, only the older two get it. The smaller ones, who are most likely to need a trip to the ER (also ironic), are completely convinced that it's a legitimate argument. The two who get it know I'm joking. Mostly. But they've been Very Careful this week, and I appreciate it.
And that's about it. I'd better get some sleep, or I fear I'll curl up on a dentist's chair and crash while the boys are getting their checkups!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
The boys get to go to the dentist tomorrow. Seriously, they're psyched about it. Smidge and John both want to make sure they get up early enough to spike their hair (it finally came out that this desire to have 'pikey hair, as Smidge calls it, comes from Dr. B, who does, in fact, have very 'pikey hair). Smidge also informed me while we flossed that he's considering dentistry, rather than engineering. What the older two will do with their plans for a wholly sibling-run engineering firm, I don't know. Perhaps they can contract with him for employee dental care?
Truthfully, I don't get it, but I am not. saying. a word. Know what I mean? If a dentist can inspire this kind of confidence and admiration in children who've been under his drill, then there's got to be something to it, I think. Plus, all the work he's done has actually stayed done. I have no problem coughing up the money for the cool surf-board-style chairs when the work is done well. AND (as if we need more reasons?), his office staff is stellar about scheduling as many children as possible all in one block. That can't be easy for them, to have us loitering there for hours on end, but it's a significant help to me not to make the 45 min. drive more often than absolutely necessary, or have to stay in town for several hours between appointments. So, off we go in the morning, and hopefully their teeth haven't gotten worse since the last check up. *fingers crossed*
In honor of the chilly weather, and the fact that the children spent the day wearing their blankets like sarapes, we brought up the winter clothes tonight. Looks like Smidge and Em are set. Still not sure on John. He's at such a strange point with his growth. Anything from a 6 to a 10 might fit, but you'll just have to try it to know for sure. And James is going to have to come shopping with me tomorrow afternoon. There's just no two ways about it. Thankfully, he has shoes, so I won't be faced with the same emotional trauma Mere experienced the other day. I can happily plug my ears and sing to myself and not look at the size tags. (I'm thinking a similar approach may come in handy when he shows an interest in girls, too. Sort of a self-preservation Tourette's. Every time he mentions a girl-who-is-just-a-friend, I can shriek loudly and start humming to myself. I'll let ya'll know how that pans out.)
The Week of the One Vehicle Family may soon be at an end. Let us all pause while I sigh in relief. It's not that we go anywhere, really, or that we've gone without at all (Zorak calls on his way home everyday to see if we need something). It's just that I've spent the week with one heck of an eye twitch, regularly threatening the children with bodily harm if they so much as come close to needing a trip to the ER while Zorak's at work. Yes, I see the irony in that. Thankfully, only the older two get it. The smaller ones, who are most likely to need a trip to the ER (also ironic), are completely convinced that it's a legitimate argument. The two who get it know I'm joking. Mostly. But they've been Very Careful this week, and I appreciate it.
And that's about it. I'd better get some sleep, or I fear I'll curl up on a dentist's chair and crash while the boys are getting their checkups!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Wednesday, October 24
Still No Card
Well, the SSA office called back. Actually, it seems I'd spoken with the supervisor, who tracked it down and made the pleasant lady I'd originally dealt with call me back. (He had asked if we'd provided a vaccination card as proof of ID, and when I mentioned how extremely unprofessional the woman at the desk had been, he said, "Oh, okay, based just on that, I know who you dealt with. OK, I can find it now." Lovely. I got his problem child. We're paying this woman to drop the ball and foist her attitude and personal philosophies on citizens. Makes ya feel all warm and fuzzy, doesn't it? Your tax dollars at work.
When she called back, she began the conversation with, "I have all the original paperwork here, and I've *just* re-faxed the copy of your birth certificate to Montgomery."
What?
"Well, sometimes faxes don't go through, and we have no way of knowing."
What?!? (I'm sorry, but the last time I worked in the corporate world, it was for Xerox, and I am very well aware that fax confirmation is a standard feature on business machines. And that was ten years ago. You know when it went through.) So what she meant to say was, "Maybe it did, maybe it didn't. I never checked."
I asked if she has, oh, a phone number in Montgomery, so that she could call down there to confirm whether they received it. She said it's their policy to wait. Then she started in on how difficult it is to get a number for a child if you don't do it immediately upon birth, and that's why hospitals handle it, and really, if we hadn't waited so long...
(Sooooo, if we hadn't waited so long, you'd have checked to see if the fax went through? Or if we hadn't had a homebirth, you wouldn't have your hackles up? What, exactly, is the problem, here? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like Federal Gov't inefficiency, to me.)
I cut her off and let her know that I expect to hear from her regularly on this, and I will be calling weekly until I have a number. (What other options do I have? If there's a way to be more proactive on this, or circumvent the woman, please fill me in.)
And yes, yes I do look at situations like this and absolutely wonder at how anybody thinks nationalizing any industry is a good idea. It's a terrifying concept.
argh.
Dy
When she called back, she began the conversation with, "I have all the original paperwork here, and I've *just* re-faxed the copy of your birth certificate to Montgomery."
What?
"Well, sometimes faxes don't go through, and we have no way of knowing."
What?!? (I'm sorry, but the last time I worked in the corporate world, it was for Xerox, and I am very well aware that fax confirmation is a standard feature on business machines. And that was ten years ago. You know when it went through.) So what she meant to say was, "Maybe it did, maybe it didn't. I never checked."
I asked if she has, oh, a phone number in Montgomery, so that she could call down there to confirm whether they received it. She said it's their policy to wait. Then she started in on how difficult it is to get a number for a child if you don't do it immediately upon birth, and that's why hospitals handle it, and really, if we hadn't waited so long...
(Sooooo, if we hadn't waited so long, you'd have checked to see if the fax went through? Or if we hadn't had a homebirth, you wouldn't have your hackles up? What, exactly, is the problem, here? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like Federal Gov't inefficiency, to me.)
I cut her off and let her know that I expect to hear from her regularly on this, and I will be calling weekly until I have a number. (What other options do I have? If there's a way to be more proactive on this, or circumvent the woman, please fill me in.)
And yes, yes I do look at situations like this and absolutely wonder at how anybody thinks nationalizing any industry is a good idea. It's a terrifying concept.
argh.
Dy
Tuesday, October 23
Oh, yeah, let's make it BIGGER
So, remember my little visit to the Social Security Administration, back at the beginning of September? Here's a recap, taken from an update in the comments section:
So, we're well past the three week mark. Or the six week mark. We're sneaking up on the eight week mark, and we thought FOR CERTAIN there'd be a social security number waiting for us at the post office. Nope. Not even a hint of a number, or a note, or a Dear John letter. Nothing.
I'd called in the past to check on the status, and every time, I have to hang up after five or six minutes on hold because, well, children get hungry. Or poop. Or mutiny. Today, I hung in there. Thirty three minutes on hold, but I got a human.
A human who has no record of our application, my existence, or EmBaby's birth. Mmmmm, yeah. OK, so this is working well, no? Sure! What else can we put the Federal Gov't in charge of, while we're at it? Gah.
Kiss those babies ~ legal, or not. ;-)
Dy
Well, the doctor's office put together a "packet", which they hoped would suffice. It included a vaccination card (which is empty, but it's filled in w/ the required information, and a note on the bottom that we have opted to delay vaccines). The SS lady held it up, *scoffed at me* and said, "And just where, exactly, did you get THIS from?" I got it, exactly, from the child's pediatric office, and it was one item which *your* office expressly cited as "acceptable". She furrowed her brows at me, "It's empty."
Well, hey, she doesn't have to be vaccinated in order to get a ss#. (That'll come later, under Universal Health Care.) I'm providing this as one of YOUR acceptable forms of ID. *big smile*
She wouldn't accept it. I guess it looked fake.
Fortunately, the rest of the packet, although each individual piece of evidence was dismissed, did, when taken as a whole, provide enough information that they couldn't show us the door without more effort than it was worth.
Now she'll send the copy of the original birth certificate (the copy she made, herself, from the original, there in the office) to Montgomery, where they will verify that it is "an exact copy of the original", and then they will mail us the card.
Honestly, if the use and abuse of a social security number were better monitored (and abuses prosecuted) -- if there was any validation for all of this "security", I wouldn't mind so much. But as it stands, they are holding our money (tax refund) hostage until we jump through the mystery hoops. It's ridiculous.
So, we're well past the three week mark. Or the six week mark. We're sneaking up on the eight week mark, and we thought FOR CERTAIN there'd be a social security number waiting for us at the post office. Nope. Not even a hint of a number, or a note, or a Dear John letter. Nothing.
I'd called in the past to check on the status, and every time, I have to hang up after five or six minutes on hold because, well, children get hungry. Or poop. Or mutiny. Today, I hung in there. Thirty three minutes on hold, but I got a human.
A human who has no record of our application, my existence, or EmBaby's birth. Mmmmm, yeah. OK, so this is working well, no? Sure! What else can we put the Federal Gov't in charge of, while we're at it? Gah.
Kiss those babies ~ legal, or not. ;-)
Dy
Well, this is just weird
Zorak came into the room this morning to kiss me good-bye and exclaimed, "Why, you're holding a coffee cup!" I looked over, and yes, yes I was holding a coffee cup. In bed. While I slept. I didn't know what was going on, but it was clear that either my addiction has now gone way beyond humorous anecdotal self-degradation, or something else happened...
It took me a minute to clear the fog, but a foot to the kidney quickly brought it all into focus: Embaby was in our bed. Ahhh, okay. I think I remember something. It was dark, she was crying, I brought her to bed with us. After that, it all goes black. I went back to sleep. Zorak slept. However, from piecing together the evidence, it seems she didn't go back to sleep (like ALL the other children did in similar situations - I thought it was safe!) I've been up a little over an hour, now, and I'm finding evidence at every turn that she went foraging, exploring, one might say rampaging, finally collapsing back in our bed after a night of toddler partying that would have made John Belushi cringe.
Pistachio shells, sucked clean, lay along the couch. Garlic, lemon-lime, green chile, and red chile. It's all there.
An old-fashioned candy stick (the kind you get at Cracker Barrel) was stuck to the floor in the hallway, half-gnawed and still in the wrapper. We haven't been to Cracker Barrel in a while...
There were several naked dolls and various hard, poky things piled atop my pillow. Gifts, or threats? It's hard to tell, really.
There's a damp washrag on the floor behind my chair. I'm not even going to ask.
She keeps this up, though, and I'm getting ear plugs for me and a lid for her crib. I just hope this isn't indicative of how the rest of the day will go.
Kiss those strange little babies!
~Dy
It took me a minute to clear the fog, but a foot to the kidney quickly brought it all into focus: Embaby was in our bed. Ahhh, okay. I think I remember something. It was dark, she was crying, I brought her to bed with us. After that, it all goes black. I went back to sleep. Zorak slept. However, from piecing together the evidence, it seems she didn't go back to sleep (like ALL the other children did in similar situations - I thought it was safe!) I've been up a little over an hour, now, and I'm finding evidence at every turn that she went foraging, exploring, one might say rampaging, finally collapsing back in our bed after a night of toddler partying that would have made John Belushi cringe.
Pistachio shells, sucked clean, lay along the couch. Garlic, lemon-lime, green chile, and red chile. It's all there.
An old-fashioned candy stick (the kind you get at Cracker Barrel) was stuck to the floor in the hallway, half-gnawed and still in the wrapper. We haven't been to Cracker Barrel in a while...
There were several naked dolls and various hard, poky things piled atop my pillow. Gifts, or threats? It's hard to tell, really.
There's a damp washrag on the floor behind my chair. I'm not even going to ask.
She keeps this up, though, and I'm getting ear plugs for me and a lid for her crib. I just hope this isn't indicative of how the rest of the day will go.
Kiss those strange little babies!
~Dy
Monday, October 22
Don't tell the kids, but we're such softies...
"Don't get too near it, kids! It's wild!"
You've *named* it?
*sigh* OK.
So if I say it's a barn cat, will that make it a barn cat?
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
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