One More Chance

Bah. A friend of Aunt B's and Aunt Jo Ann's lost her son recently. He was 35. Had two young boys. Sometimes, this stuff comes out of nowhere. We get so content, thinking it's okay to be short with our little ones or our loved ones because we're tired or achy or just in a pissy mood. We'll get over it, and do better tomorrow. And while it's good to give ourselves grace and not hold self-flogging grudges, I wonder how often we just don't try too hard to do the right thing because we figure we can fix it, make up for it, and move on -- later. Sometimes, later just doesn't come.

I don't want to go from this world, leaving a story unread, a secret unshared, a joke untold. I don't want "later" to be the lingering word that defines my legacy. I'm not saying I do that. I'm not saying you do that. And I'm definitely not saying this man did. I'm saying, simply, that this news struck me hard, right in that spot where I'm all quivery and vulnerable - that spot that knows there isn't some magic point at which we become impervious to death. Not when we hit one year old and the risk of SIDS goes way down. Not when we hit twelve years old, and can be hired to watch other people's children. Not when our insurance drops for good behavior or statistical improvement (age, marriage, high GPA). Not when our cholesterol levels are low, or our EFA levels are good, or when we're on top of the world and looking ahead. Not even the presence of little hands that need holding can stop death from collecting us when it calls.

And that scares the piss out of me, folks. I don't fear death. I just don't want to go right now. There is so much to enjoy, and I all too often do forget how enjoyable it is. The spitup and crying, the fear of conquering new skills and the absolute conviction of a child that if he doesn't have something to eat riiiiggghhhhhht noooooooowww, he'll never make it the fifteen minutes until dinner is ready... there's joy in that. There's good work in that.

And I want the work to be done well. There's no other job in this world that needs to be done well so much as this one of having a family - spouse, child, mother, aunt, uncle, cousin - people who look to you and depend on you, people who love you and care about you, people who know you love and care about them, in return. We want to do that well. We want to do that now. Not later. Not after another trip to the store, or after the dishes are done. We can talk while we work. We can read before we go. We can always, always, always remember that this might just be all that's left, and we want it to be sweet.
Well, that'll kick a gal out of a funk pretty darned quick, lemme tell you that. So, it's only eleven o'clock. I'm taking my vitamins, and going to bed. Because in the morning, there will be another stack of stories to read, more jokes to tell, and probably more dishes to wash. I don't mind leaving the dishes behind, actually. But the rest, I don't want to miss. Not if I can help it.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Headway

I've got to get pictures when Zorak's not looking, because the balcony is really looking NICE. (It has to be when he's not looking because every time I mention it, he says, "Let me pick up down there, first." It's been, what, over a month now? I tell him you know all about our slovenly construction site habits, and that you love us anyway. But he thinks I'm delusional.) Anyway, I love the railings -- they are very worth the seemingly endless engineering that went into them. Lovely, lovely, immobile railings. I can't reach them, yet, as we have no floor up there, and I don't do the balance beam on the joists bit, but they do look nice as I peer out the kitchen windows and doors. That's something.

We have a riding mower, now, which I think I mentioned. I thought I'd mow the upper meadow today, but that didn't go so well. First, I managed to hit an old rusted somethingorother, although, thankfully, that didn't kill the mower. Unfortunately, my stopping the thing to touch base with the boys about what, exactly, "picking up the meadow so we can mow" means in our native tongue gave the thing an opportunity to curl up and die on its own. Hmpf. I tried jumping it, but perhaps it sensed my fear of bottled up electricity, because it only turned over once, backfired, and then laughed itself into silence while I tried to gather my composure. Stoopid post-partum bladder.

Smidge has announced that he would like, for his fifth birthday, "a bow, some arrows, and that thing you wear on your back that holds the arrows". His wish is Zorak's command, so Zorak has spent his free time (say that with a straight face - the man never stops!) this week designing a NEW bow, just for Smidge. We have the material for a quiver, and will only need to track down buckles. I'm not sure who is more excited over it. It may be a draw. It will be a joy. Good, good stuff.

Smidge also asked when I'm going to put a table back in the school room so that he can start school. Whatever happened to enjoying summer vacation? Weird. And, evidently, working at the dining table or the breakfast bar (my fallback plan) simply doesn't feel "official" enough to him. So now I have guilt. Enough so that I probably must DO something with the school room. Which is fine. It needs it. But it's not coming to me - not the furniture, nor the arrangement.

Neither is the guest room/nursery/playroom speaking to me. It's like the house has fallen silent. (It's probably ignoring me until I get the rest of the trim painted. Who knew we'd get the pouty house?)

Let's face it, nothing's coming to me right now. I have funk. It hangs on me like the stench of fear. Only less endearing. Yech. Gotta shake that off and get moving, or give in and buy a mu-mu and a box of bon-bons. (Guess which is more appealing in the heat of summer? Yeah, this'll be an uphill battle.)

But the lure of headway beckons. It calls. It feels mighty darned fine. Forget the mu-mu (although I may hoard a stash of bon-bons, just for emergencies, of course). We'll beat the beast back, sure enough. Because it feels so very good to be tired at the end of the day for a reason, for a purpose, and know that it is good. Yep.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

What?! Third grade, already?

Yeah, he didn't see that coming, either.

I don't know if this is some post-traumatic homeschooling disorder, or just Mommy Brain at an all new high, but for some reason, John is stuck in my head at about four years old. This has no bearing on reality, at all. He's funny and insightful well beyond his years. He remembers details and makes connections in a way none of my other children do. He's the one in whom I most often catch glimpses of the Man He Will One Day Be -- in his mannerisms, his speech, his thoughtful actions. I glance over at him and *kapow*, I have to do a double-take, because I could have sworn I just saw a 19yo Marine home on leave rather than an 8yo boy sprawled on the couch. Yet, when I sit down to make out the year's plan for him, I find myself stuttering and flailing about, wondering how on EARTH this child can be ready for third grade...

But here he is, and so there we are. Just gotta roll with it. This is our 3rd grade plan for John:

Math: Math-U-See Beta. John took his time in Alpha, and he learned it well. He also spent a great deal of this past year learning math as it applies to carpentry and surveying. So, while he isn't moving into Gamma yet, I also don't feel that he's "behind" in any sense of the word. He'll fly through fractions and decimals, with the practical experience he's already gleaned, and when all is said and done, nobody will ever look at him askew for the order in which he learned his arithmetic and math.

Latin: Latin for Children, Primer A. I think he'll enjoy it this year, and will also enjoy working on Latin through a different program than what his brother is in. That seemed to work beautifully this last year -- took a lot of pressure off John, and alleviated quite a bit of the boys' tendencies toward "education as a competitive sport".

Writing: John's writing plans are similar to James', only geared for third grade rather than fifth. (Funny how that works out, huh?) Imitation in Writing - Fairy Tales. (I suspected there was an order to the books, but Logos School's website is pretty lousy about helping you figure it out. So when the books arrived, I realized John gets "book 2" and James gets "book 1" - I would have switched them, but they're both already attached to their respective plans for the year. However, if you are interested in using this program, it seems that the Fairy Tales book is designed to be used after the Aesop's book.) Italic Handwriting, Book D Again, I went with Italic handwriting this year, because unless this child also becomes a doctor, his current handwriting may find him isolated in a military outpost in Siberia, hand writing ciphers. I don't know, maybe that would work for him, but I'd like for him to have options. Spelling Workout C This has come in, and the boys are both absolutely, positively tickled pink to have a workbook in their hot little hands. Woot!

Reading: I don't have an official list together yet (sound familiar?) However, his reading has taken off this summer in ways that I could not have predicted. I'm glad I didn't have a list ready to go, because I think it would need significant updating shortly. As it stands, I don't think I'll have to work hard to get him to pick up whatever we may stumble upon.

The rest of the materials are things we'll work through together --

History: Story of the World, Vol. 3, with additional readings and encyclopedia work. A little outlining here and there. Good stuff. We'll start up... um, right after we finish up the Middle Ages...

Music: we'll be breaking this up into two segments
Theory: Meet the Great Composers
Practical: Regular piano lessons will continue.

Art: Artistic Pursuits (Got it in. It looks fairly painless, but then, that's how they suck you in. Still waiting for someone, anyone, to start an art co-op class in Morgan County... *hint-hint, nudge-nudge*)

Greek: easy, gentle intro with Hey, Andrew!

Religion:Kids Catechism, Lee Strobel's The Case for Christ for Kids, and interspersed work from Doorposts, Keys for Kids Daily Devotionals.

Still waiting for a science program to grab me and whisper, "Use meeeee, my preciousssss..." (OK, the "my precious" bit is new. I'm starting to get a bit manic about it, alright?) BUT, we did buy a riding mower, so there is hope that I can clear a swath down to the river that'll be wide enough to allay my fears of water moccasins or copperheads sneaking up on us. I've read Rikki-Tikki-Tavi, and since we do not have a mongoose, I simply do not rest easily around water in these parts.

Yeah. Anyway. Then we can take samples and do a bit of botany, or biology, or zoology. With a microscope. And a shovel.

I think that's it. He's all set, and now, we just have to wrap our minds around the fact that this is third grade... sheesh, where does it go?

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Good, Clean Fun

Adults just don't see the hot summer days the way children do...

I guess that's a good thing...

Because they can help us see it anew,

and you know, that's kind of fun.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Food Storage

Ah, thank you, Jennifer! The calculator is from Walton Feed, and it is fantastic. You all can locate it here, if you're interested. It's not all-encompassing, but it's a nice start, and helps uncover any glaring gaps (oh, say, perhaps one may be a hard-core high-protein planner, leaving some of the other mineral-oriented foods a bit neglected, *ahem*).

Moving on, might as well round out this post with all the other stuff I find and forget.

Track My Food Storage - they have both a basic free option (max 25 lines, no analysis, but still handy), and a premium paid option (includes a number of other features)

There's a post here, at Survival Monkey (I love some of the names I've run across today - this one made me think of Ernie), with another spreadsheet calculator. I haven't played with it yet, but if I post it now, I can find it again when I have time. I'll post back on how it compares.

Of course, the good old LDS, perhaps one of the few groups of people left who intentionally plan not to have to look to the gov't if things get bad. Yay, you guys!! And while we're at it, thank you we appreciate the wealth of knowledge that's available due to your diligence.

Walton Feed also has a page that offers a great general overview for planning, including reasons to plan - ranging from long-term-trouble, to serious injury, and even the climatalogical hey-here-comes-another-one situations. (I love my dark, cricket-filled basement, I really, truly do.)

Hey, while we're on a roll, and in the hope of keeping it all in one place, want to share your favorite Post-Apocalyptic Fantasy link? (That just sounds much more fun that "emergency preparedness", doesn't it? And it also point out, since you can't see me, that my tongue is still firmly planted in my cheek. We just can't take ourselves too seriously around here, you know.)

Ok, I'm off to finish watching Becket with Zorak. (Does anybody else suspect that Richard Burton is Bill Murray's father? I know, it sounds odd. But watch the movie and tell me you don't see a resemblance...)

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Can't Find it - Can you Help?

ARGH. A few months back, I found a fantastic food storage calculator. Rather than asking you to plug in the ages and numbers of family, then figuring what you need for X-amount of time, this one asked you to input what you have on hand and then figured up how long the stuff you have will last. It even gave you caloric values, distributed out among the persons you input. It rocked!

And now, *sigh* I can't find it. I would tell you how many Google terms I've used to try to locate it, but that would be embarrassing. Have you seen it?

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Plenty to do

The air was showing through on the pickup's front tires, so Zorak stopped in at a used tire shop yesterday and replaced them. That's usually a good way to go, but today he had to take the Suburban because one of them (on the truck) didn't hold air during the night. So, we're here for the day, but there's plenty to do here.

We'll gather some blackberries. I think some of the pears are ripe, too. The basement needs more work, as well.

The barn garden is sprouting beautifully. The salad garden has mystery plants, no root plants, and in spite of the lovely, mild summer, the lettuce and greens are a bit bitter. But oh, so pretty, anyway. Something ate the tops off the jalapeno plants. All that's left are green sticks protruding from the mulch.

John is reading the first Harry Potter book. James is nearly done with the sixth. I'm trying Great Expectations. We'll see how that goes - I'm not a big Dickens fan. And in between, we have plenty of fun adventures to take with Pooh and Frances, with Sal and Swimmy, with Sylvester and Chester. Yes, there's always plenty to do.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Sibling Differences

I feel like Jane Goodall, but without the smell. Or fear of being attacked by my subjects.

EmBaby stands directly in front of the TV, blocking the boys' view of the screen. They all respond so differently:

James: EmBaby, scootch over here out of the way, please. Down in front, Baby.

John: *sigh* Moooooove, Emily. *sigh* Please.

Smidge: I can make her move. *evil cackle*

Yet when it's Smidge who is in the way, it's a different scenario entirely:

James: Smidge, moveit.

John: DOWN IN FRONT!

Emily: I can make him move. *evil cackle*

(Well, perhaps not "entirely" different...)

They aren't usually this abrupt with one another, which is good. It's just the "down in front" thing that seems to irritate them. (And they do have to re-request if they put it like this. The rule being, "Would you happily comply with a request someone made of you in that tone? If not, then try again, please.") They'll willing help one another with most things. They split treats evenly and without being asked to. They include everyone in their outings and adventures. They do try to antagonize one another on occasion, seemingly for the fun of it (although I've found there's usually some underlying point that's niggling away at the antagonist and since he/she can't quite articulate it, it comes out in huffing and posturing and nose-picking). But for the most part, they're very good to each other.

Yet, I remember a time when the boys were so deferential toward Smidge. Now, he's just another pup in the litter. Already, I can see that EmBaby is losing her Preferred Sibling status. Everybody warned me that once the babies are mobile, they loose their cute-factor, but it seems that in our house, it's not when they can move, it's when they can argue that the siblings tip them off the pedestal. Weird.

However, I've also noticed that once the sibling has been tipped off the pedestal, that's when the real fun begins. That's when he (or she) is considered an equal in all things play, gets a vote in the tribal concessions, gets a storefront in the front yard. That's about the same time the newly-dethroned sibling starts clearing his/her own spot at the table without being reminded, gets to pick a table-setting chore (which the boys allow without any territorial nitpicking) and gains access to the "special things" of the others. (Each child has things over which he has sharing veto power, and it seems to become a non-issue to share with the ex-baby at some unspoken point.)

It's all very interesting, actually. The dynamics of sibling interaction fascinate me. Have you noticed trends and patterns in how your children interact?

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

And there went the weekend~

What a great few days! We enjoyed having Ben & Claudia over for the Fourth. Of course, we kept them way too late. Poor Claudia - I don't know how she keeps from getting into the knife drawer and throwing things at the guys until they quit talking and head for the car. But she doesn't. She's so good about that. The guys don't get to see each other very often, so when they do get together, they gab like a couple of teenage girls on a sleepover. The kids had a fantastic time, and when they left, it was after midnight - but there wasn't one single meltdown!

The five boys stayed outside, playing with the loud and smelly firecrackers and fireworks. The girls (EmBaby and Luci) stayed inside, looking out the window from their vantage point on the couch. The boys tried to get them to come out, convinced they were missing all the fun. The girls, however, yelled at them to go away and shooed them back out the door. "It's scary out there!" Yep, I think it's safe to say that we girls are all about the sparklies. The guys are all about The Big Ka-Boom. At least at our house. :-) Something for everyone.

I tried to read the Declaration of Independence aloud to the boys, but by the second line, I was in tears. I do that. Every time. Someday, I will be able to get through it without leaking vociferously. Until then, we'll take it one line at a time and finish going through it this week. That'll be easier on my sinuses, and the boys can focus on the words without worrying that Mom's going to collapse.

Not much else going on, here, really. The boys' piano teacher didn't show for lessons on Thursday, so I am assuming she's had her baby. This means we're off from lessons for the next month. I hope she'll decide to take a little longer with her little one, but if she doesn't, we'll enjoy having her back. In the meantime, we'll be making use of all the great links everybody shared with us in previous piano threads! Thanks, guys!

I need to make several huge treks into town to drop off the many clothing items we're culling. Some to the pregnancy crisis center. Some to the thrift shop. Some to the consignment shops. I really wish we knew someone who needed baby girl clothes - I hate to just send them off into the unknown. There are a few special pieces that I'm not parting with until we find somebody. So, you know, if you're thinking about it, hurry up, okay?

We went to a birthday party at a skating rink Saturday. Longest two hours of our lives. Oy. I don't remember the skating rink in my hometown being so dark. And stinky. And loud. Yuck. (Yet another sign that I am old, I fear.) And what's up with grown men putting flashing pacifiers in their mouths??? This is attractive, somehow? Really?? (Well, then, I think I'm okay with getting old. And ever so glad I'm married. *whew*)

James and John really gave it a go on learning to skate. It was painful, and to be honest, I wouldn't have kept going. But they did. They really, honestly did. And we stayed until they could do it. I forgot how hard it is when you haven't done it before. As in, ever. (How did my kids get to this point without learning to skate? Doesn't everybody know how to skate? Is this just a sign that you grew up in the 70's?) Oh, yeah, we live in the boonies. We did that on purpose. I think they'll be fine. Although, I am tempted to take them individually to lessons at least once, just so they'll have the ability to skate if they're ever in this situation again. I don't know. It seems like something one should have in his pouch-o-skills... don't you think? *shrug* I don't know.

Gotta get organized this week. Must do it. That's all.

have a wonderful Monday!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy

It's OK, Y'all can laugh

If the "spice" is self-inflicted, it's pretty much fair game immediately. It's when someone else decides to spice things up on my behalf that I need the cool-down period before it's funny. ;-)

Zorak was a doll about the whole thing. I called and explained that the fridge had exploded in my hands. He offered to track down the part and take care of it so that I wouldn't lose much steam on my pre-company freak-out train. He's so good to me. He called back in a bit to let me know nobody in town has one in stock, but he did find it with a distributor and it would be $50 for the glass. Shipping is anywhere from $9 (for three week delivery) to $27 (for next day delivery - which would still be no sooner than Monday, what with the holiday weekend).

Then came the redemption-idea. Hey, can't we call a glass company? Storm doors have to use tempered glass, don't they? (Yes, I've just cost us almost $80, but if I can find some way to cost us less, then that counts in the redemption category, right? Or is this like saving a dollar on something you wouldn't buy anyway, but you do because you had a coupon? Eek.) Anyway, Zorak called around and found a place that would cut us a piece of laminated glass (think "windshield glass" - same stuff) for about $30. And no shipping, since he could pick it up on the way home. Yay.

So, in the end, we have groceries *and* a place to set them. (We were going to just put plywood over the hole until the glass showed up, so it would've been all good, regardless.) Our company came, ate, and just left. The kids were a wee bit excitable, but very polite and welcoming. We had a lovely visit, and good fellowship.

One of our guests has diabetes, so we tried to offer something he would enjoy that wouldn't trip him up. We made mashed cauliflower. Wow, that was tasty! (And I don't even care for cauliflower.) Once our guest realized the white stuff wasn't potatoes, he tried it and was pleasantly surprised. Yippee. I love it when food makes people feel comfortable and welcome.

And now, it's late. The three smallest turned into chalk outlines early on in the evening, and the older two are just now dozing off. I'm going to go watch Zorak play with the Rubik's Cube. Yep, the fun never stops around here. We're just crazy that way!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Spice things up!

When things are going just a lit-tle too smoothly, give this a shot. I guarantee it'll do away with that pesky monotony of ease in a jiffy!

When your elder calls to say he and the pastor would like to come visit (or anyone with whom you have only a casual acquaintance, and still feel the need to be dressed when they arrive), be sure to invite them to stay for supper. (Which I did out of guilt, because, seriously, it's the equivalent of driving to another state to come all the way down here, you know - this is why it's taken three years for them to schedule the first visit).

Then, make certain you have to be somewhere every. single. day the week of their visit. That way, you won't be bothered by all that cleaning and decluttering. (For fun, watch your husband's eyes grow wide when he sees that the children have taken the beer cans from the recycling bin and used them for yard darts and frisbees!)

The night before your guests arrive, be sure to write up an absurdly overly-packed prep schedule that entails nobody touching anything. Ever. (Then stay up late, just to really add to the "wow factor" of the whole experience!)

And, if you're still feeling like it'll be okay, and you really think you have this whole thing figured out and you're making good headway...

Be sure to break the BIG shelf in your fridge. Man, watching those things implode is better than any fireworks display known to man!

Yeah, good stuff, ya know. I love my shop vac. And my sense of humor (the only things that prevented me from teaching the kids snappy new vocabulary words when the glass erupted in my hands!)

Thankfully, it's a gorgeous day out, the kids are being almost helpful, and my fridge is so. incredibly. clean right now. :-D

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Whew.

The first bottle. Ever. For any of them. That was weird.

But man, when you *need* them to take one, it's nice if they will! (And James was so proud that he got to be the one to feed Jason! I'm glad Zorak took a picture for me so I didn't miss it entirely.)

Me-Tae watched all five of them for me for the root canal this morning. She is an angel on earth, I tell you.

I've also decided that Dental Blue must define "preferred provider" as "inept charlatan who will work for whatever insurance will cough up". So far, having stepped outside the coverage of our insurance company, we've worked with five different dental providers (one restorative dentist, two periodontists, an endodontist, and a something-or-other) who have all been more honest and proactive and - so far - competent, than the previous ones ever were. It's refreshing. It makes it a lot easier to make jokes in my head about the idiosyncrasies of bone conduction while I'm in the chair. I want to say it's costing us a lot more, but to be honest, if it's good work that does the trick, it won't cost more than what we've already paid and are having to re-do, or do properly in the first place. That's worth it, any day. So, root has been canalled... or however you'd say it. Crowns go on tomorrow. General treatment plan is, I think, figured out. Yay.

After I picked up the kids, we met Zorak and some of his co-workers/friends for lunch at the Miso House. Yum-yum. Good food. Good conversation.

Picked up my Rainbow order on the way home. Missed the library because three of five were out cold and I just didn't have it in me to deal with three groggy, cranky children in the World's Strangest Library at the end of a long day. (Call me a coward, if you must, but I know my limits.) We came home and wallowed in new books all afternoon.

Can't ask for a better end to the day than that!

And tomorrow, we get to do it all over again!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Shhh. Don't tell!

Smidge cracked us up last night. Poor little guy is so upset with James...

I made chile and corn bread for supper, but somehow I salted the living heck out of the chile. I think I could have bagged it and left it on the shelf for storage, it was that salty. No clue what happened. John, trying to be helpful, said, "It's not nearly as bad as the salty ice cream." (Our ice cream maker got pinholes in the canister, which we didn't notice until we tried our first batch of ice cream for the season. Salt-flavored ice cream is pretty vile, for the record.) We all agreed.

James said, "Mom, are we ever going to get a new ice cream maker?"

I sighed. I've meant to get a new canister, but couldn't find one online, and have been holding off on buying a whole new machine because that seems wasteful when everything else on our machine works okay. But still, that's one more thing I haven't taken care of, and should have. "Yeah. I meant to take care of that."

Smidge started *seething*. Now, if you've never seen a 4yo seethe, it's pretty funny. His little jaw clenched. His right eye both widened (at the top) and narrowed (from the bottom). His nostrils began to twitch in and out. His little hands started working like he was getting ready to go off on someone in partial Italian. "JAY-mzzzz," he hissed. "You gave it away!"

We all looked confused. Zorak tried to change the subject. But a seething 4yo will not be diverted.

In the best stage whisper I've ever heard from a child, Smidge proceeds to hiss out, "James, you spoiled the surprise that we were going to get Mom an ice cream maker For. Her. Birth. Dayyyyyy."

We all cracked up. I mean, hard-core belly laughs all the way around. Seriously, James had done nothing of the sort. But in Smidge's little 4yo mind, the mere mention of someday buying one was tantamount to just sauntering up to me and annoucning the plan. Oh, he's pretty mad at James over that one.

The big boys both tried, at first, to set Smidge straight on that one, so I took them back to the bedroom to have a little talk...

"Listen, it's no fun to get blamed for something you didn't do. I get that. But. Am I upset about the surprise? (no) Is my birthday completely ruined, never to be salvaged again? (no) Is Smidge upset? (yes) Do you think that if you were to somehow get him to see that *he* is the one who let the cat out of the bag, he would feel better, or worse? (worse) OK, then. Do you see where I'm going with this? In 30 years, we will buy him an ice cream maker for his birthday, and we'll start telling him about it in January. It'll be funny to him by then. In fact, this will be one of the few humorous kid stories I'll have that don't involve poop. I'm good with that. But right now, this is a good chance to be gracious. Honestly, did y'all hear that stage whisper? He did everything in his wee power to be discreet. We've got to honor that, guys."

By the time we rejoined the table, the boys were laughing about the more infamous poop stories we've already got. They'd decided Smidge wasn't a villian. James even apologized to Smidge for "letting the secret out", which I thought was an incredibly magnanimous move on his part. It helped Smidge feel much better. And I promised the big boys, with a wink and a smile, that I would "forget" between now and then, which made John feel better.

Funny kids. I love 'em.

We leave in about fifteen minutes for town. Me-Tae said she would watch the ninos for me while I'm at the dentist this morning (root canal -weeee!) I'm so thankful, I don't even know where to start. Hope she doesn't mind that the smaller three will be in their jammies. *grin* Hopefully, I won't be feeling too punky, as I think it'd be fun to take the kids to the Space and Rocket Center afterword. Once the novacaine wears off, we can get sno-cones! (You know, for the kids...)

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Another Day of Moving Forward

When I look out the kitchen windows now, there are handrails peeking above the sills. They make me smile. Zorak got his quotes for deck boards this weekend, too. It's coming together!

The boys found blackberries down by the barn! They're overjoyed. Yep, it's the blackberries we spent three days ripping out last spring. You know, so we could plant... blackberries. (I've never claimed we were farmers, here, folks! As a matter of fact, I do believe I've been completely upfront about the fact that I do not come from hearty farmer stock.) In my defense, we were going to put in thornless berries, and these have thorns. The boys, however, simply do not care. Zorak and I sat on the porch (under the ceiling fan), watching the boys scamper toward the barn, and we both said, "This is why we bought this place!" Good, good stuff.

We went to church today. Made it to the 8:15 service ON TIME. And everybody was dressed. And clean. No, I have no idea how this happened. This is an LCMS church, so it's close to the PCA. Close enough, at this point. They have three services from which to choose, so we opted for the traditional service. Even going the trad-route, it's just a wee bit slick and shiny, but the children all felt at home immediately. Smidge, our church-barometer, asked, as we walked to the car afterword, "Can we make this the church we go to every Sunday?" He has never said that about any church other than the one we have membership at. Zorak and I were both bowled over. Normally, he asks when we can go back to "our church". Sometimes he cries. So, this enthusiasm was huge. Zorak had no major qualms with it, other than the slickness of the presentation. (It's not like the BigShinyChurch we visited last year. This is more the way you can spot someone from Dallas vs. any other town in Texas. There's a slick veneer, a polish to their mannerisms and carriage that's very definitive. But, um, unless you know about the Dallas Effect, this makes no sense at all.) So, in all, it was good.

And now, we begin again with a new week. My Rainbow order is IN Huntsville! *squeal like a leetle guuurl* No clue on my Logos order. I received an order confirmation, but when I login and try to check the status, nothing appears. I'll wait the recommended waiting time before I call and pester them about it. This is a busy time of year for curriculum vendors. Remind me this week to post John and Smidge's year plans, too. (That way I can find them in November, when I can't remember what we were going to do next!)

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Go, Team Zorak!

Well, the baby survived. James got to feed him, which he thought was Very Cool, Indeed. The kids helped Zorak with Jase and then they worked in the garden and let me stay inside to recover. It was nice to know that all went well while I was away. I love my family - they pull together to beautifully when they're needed.

The dentist visit also went well. He laughed at me for falling asleep. Repeatedly. Yeah, that's weird. I can say that facing your fears through submersion is pretty effective. Ten years ago, I had to blink back tears the minute my butt hit the chair. Now, particularly after the umpteen thousand hours I've spent under that x-files style lighting (what's up with that, anyway?) the last three years, it doesn't phase me a bit. I've got to go in for a root canal either Monday or Tuesday - and then back on Wednesday to cement the two crowns they did today, prep for the root canal crown, and prep on another crown on the other side. I think there's one more visit after that, and then we'll have to make some big decisions on where to go from there. I'm seriously going to have to download the Bionic Woman soundtrack for the drive! (At the very least, that cool running noise she made - remember that?) Oh, and the opening bars of The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly soundtrack. What a way to get psyched up for an appointment!

The boys are now all begging to go see their dentist. I'm not sure why, exactly, but I'll run with it. It's time for their checkups, anyway.

The big-big news, though, is that there's a box winging it's way to us from Rainbow Resource this week, and another one from Logos School, too! So. Stoked about that! Oh, yeah... stuff to do while we hide from the summer heat!

Finished Midshipman Hornblower, and am about halfway through Lieutenant Hornblower. What fun! I love to go to sea. I can hardly wait for James to pick up these books. I need a reading buddy. :-) But I'm not going to rush him - this is all going way too quickly, as it is.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Off!

Off to the dentist again in a few minutes. This is going to be another four-hour visit. Three crowns. I swear, by the time I'm done, I'll have the Bionic Mouth.

**girls stuff, skip if squeamish**

I tried expressing for Jase, but as it turns out, he decided he'd like to have a growth spurt this week. So, the well isn't exactly overflowing right now. *sigh* You'd think on my fifth child, I would have those time periods permanently etched in my brain and think to say, "OH, not that week, please" when scheduling appointments. But, no. I'm not that bright.

Hopefully, there's enough to tide him over. Now I'm just praying his recent nurse-a-thon sit-in doesn't yield results while I'm propped up in the dentist's chair!

**end girl stuff, read on without fear**

Love the compressed work schedule, though. Zorak is home today, so we didn't have to bribe someone to watch four big kids and a potentially irate infant. That's always nice.

I'm taking my Hornblower books (Midshipman Hornblower, Lt. Hornblower, and whatever comes after that one), so maybe I'll get a little reading time? There's a silver lining, even if you have to pencil it in, yourself.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Oh, Good Heck

Like we don't have enough of a challenge getting organized, now we have to figure this out?

So, the boys are in Cub Scouts. They love it. They love the kids, the handbooks, the projects. They love the outings and the ceremonies. They love that they get a night out with Zorak. Smidge is DYING to be able to join, too. (Last week, he asked Zorak, "Can I go to Scouts?" Before Zorak could answer, he put his hands out in a negotiating type gesture and added, "I just want to watch." How could Zorak resist that much cuteness?) In general, I've been pleasantly surprised with the experience so far.

HowEVer...

These leaders are going to be the reason I arrive at the Pearly Gates two or three years earlier than I'd originally been scheduled.

I can sign off in John's handbook, since he's just a Bear. But he has to bring his projects in to show the Scoutmaster. OK, that's fine. We put them by the front door, and he remembers to take them. Every week. And not once has there been any time set aside for the Scoutmaster to take a look at them and okay the whateveritis. Tried going early. Tried staying late. No dice. His Alabama state flag poster has been loitering and hitching rides for a month and a half now, and it's lookin' just a tad less impressive than it did when it was flat. And clean. *snarl* John missed out on getting his Wolf badge, not because he didn't complete the work, but because there was never a point at which the Scoutmaster was available to do whatever he needed to do to get it recorded by the deadline. I don't think John has realized this, yet, but he's going to be quite disappointed. And to be honest, I'm a little torqued. The kid knew he'd come into Scouting late in the year, and he chose to work his wee tail off, all on his own, in order to do double time and get caught up. How is this workin' for him?

And then, there's James. Webelos have to have their Den Master sign off on their things because they are growing up, preparing to be Boy Scouts, and they need to rely less on their parents and more on themselves. Sounds fantastic. In theory. The reality is that there is no time for his Den Master to keep up with a child like James. He's had all the requirements for his engineering badge completed for two months, now. But he doesn't have the badge because the Den Master wants to see the bridges and the pulleys before he'll sign off on them... and, you guessed it, he never gets around to doing it before or after meetings. I've got to give James credit - he does try. But he's not going to get in an adult's face and demand attention when he has already requested the adult's attention and the adult is busy doing something (like, oh, say, rein in a disruptive child, or talk with another adult, or... oh, wait, HE LEFT, AGAIN.) But the guy has no problem sending out a mass email "reminding" parents that they are not to sign off on their Webelos' projects anymore!

And... that was when my blood pressure started to eke up a bit. I have to let Zorak handle this. I really have to, because this is simply maddening. If you're going to insist on guidelines like this, then you simply must also accomodate the meeting of said guidelines. I don't see any way around it, and this current method is making. me. nuts. I'm already post-partum. They SO don't want to see me go all PPD on them at a meeting over this. Yeah. So, I am trying to stay out of it. But I'm such a control freak, particularly when it pertains to my children. I guess it would be more accurate to say that I'm working behind the scenes to find a way to allow the boys to succeed without having to drag my hormonal, irritated, pimply/yet dry (what's up with that, anyway?) self down there for a hashing out session. So, here is The Plan:

1. Stay calm. Stay rational. (Mostly, this involves discussing it with Zorak after the boys have gone to bed. At least this way, they think I'm calm and rational, since I am in the morning after griping, erm, brainstorming with Zorak all night.)

2. I've asked Zorak to email (with cc to me) the Pubah's and ask for clarification and protocol dileantion, as well as what our role in supporting them might be, so that this does not continue to happen. (In other words - we get that you're busy, but this isn't working. How can we help make it better?)

3. Photographs! From now on, I will be photographing the projects that the boys complete on their own. They can type up the documentation. I'll put it together in a nifty two-to-four page spread, print it out, and they can just hand it over. Voila! Project, proof, and woudja-sign-here, please! Also, much easier than transporting blocks and tackles and poster collages that won't make it to the Pubah at any point, anyway.

4. Rum. We're almost out. Not a huge investment, seeing as this last bottle lasted six+ years. No bets on how long the new one will hold out, though.

5. Tally this whole process up under "Life Lessons". This is good training for serving in the military. You have to keep your own copies of your records, or you'll end up getting vaccinated for Measles and Yellow Fever three or four times. Not to mention, you'll never get a bene-sug for the contributions you've made unless you provide thorough documentation.

So, we're good to go. But it's still a bit irritating. Thanks for letting me let off a little steam. If you've been there and have some tips that will help facilitate making this situation better without alienating the boys from their Scout/Den Masters, and without making their jobs harder (I do get that they are volunteers, and they are busy - totally get that, which is why I want to help and not just harrass), I'd love to hear it. Thanks! :-)

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

This is just gross. (What is it?)

*Edited: These are soldier fly larva! Common in compost. Beneficial to your compost - I actually found sites that SELL these things. That makes me shudder just to type, but, uh, hey, if you want to place an order... Anyway, they eat houseflies. No harm to humans - don't bite, don't sting. Just heinously ugly. Yay. Yay. Yay.*

We get that it's some kind of grub. Something immature and... nasty. (Go, naturegirl!) But I've never seen anything like this before in my life. John found them. He came in, wanting to know what the worm-like things are in our garden. (Um... worms?) No, they're not worms, Mom, come see. (Um, no. I'm going to go with "worms", thanks. It's hot out there. And I have a book. They're worms. It's a compost bin. It's all good.)


Not to be deterred, John went out with the camera. He brought me the first shot. Too blurry to see anything. (OK, they're Loch Ness Worms. Go. Away. I'm reading.) He went back out, fiddled with his settings and tried again. Meanwhile, I moved to another room, thinking he wouldn't find me. He found me. (Oh. My. God. What are they?!?) Yeah, I know, Mom! Come look! (OK, let's go check them out.)

Feel free to click on that and see how many you can find. I'll wait.

So, anyway, back to the story... Riiiight. Like I'm going to be able to offer more input after having seen them up close? Shyah. No. But I can give you more information. They're up to an inch long. They aren't cylindrical, like earthworms. They're somewhat flattened, flexible in all directions, but moreso front to back (I'm guessing on directions, here) - the sides seem a little siff and ridge-like. They have banding from stem to stern. I think I saw something like them in The Deer Hunter. Or on one entry of Steve, Don't Eat It!

Anyway, they're in our compost bin. There are thousands of them (possibly tens of thousands). We turned the compost after taking this video, and their movement made an avalanche. Fascinating, yes. But still... what is it???

We had to take the video because the still shots just weren't capture the "ewww" - the "holy crap, the whole ground is moving!" of it. We knew you'd be glad we thought of you.

Just tell me they're good for compost. Tell me they won't escape and invade my home when they reach maturity. Or, shoot me straight and tell me I need to have Zorak pick up a little napalm on the way home this afternoon.



Kiss those babies!

~Dy

Things that make us smile.

I think this summer we will finally put some photographs on the walls. However, I've rummaged through the ones we have framed and stored, and you know, I just don't think many of the old Sears or Olan Mills or Target photos are going to make the cut. Aside from the fact that we've had a few children since the last one was taken, there's also that they aren't "us". They barely look like us, other than my trademark fang-bearing snarl. (Always a indicative that I've tried to hold a smile for any length of time. Lovely legacy, that. *snort*)

But also, I think we take more fun photographs. Lighthearted, reflective, intuitive. Nobody we can afford can capture Our Home the way we can. Now, don't go thinking I'm getting all uppity about my mad photography skills. 90% of what I take is crap. But there are some differences that lead me, in my more sleep-deprived moments, to believe we could create some lovely artwork for the walls with the genetic experiments we have on hand (namely that I'm not limited by a time slot, and I'm free to capture things the way they are everyday, which they most definitely are not when we're in a studio.)

So, I've decided to get a little out-there and round up some of our favorite shots, mix 'em up in black and white (the ultimate skin tone modifier!) and have some fun with it. Enough of this standard, utilitarian, pre-packaged decor.

We need framed 5x7's like this one, don't you think? (Well, perhaps not this one - it's grainy - I cannot, for the life of me, figure out the right settings for indoor shots with this camera. But you get the idea.)

So, that's my Fun Project for the summer. Perhaps it'll keep me so busy I won't be whining about the hot 'n sticky aspect of it? Maybe. Probably not. But fortunately, I can multitask!

Want to share your favorite photographs? I'd love to see them!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

And now we are eight...

I wish A.A. Milne had written a book for every year.

John is now eight. He wanted to go bowling, and so, we did. (Smidge looks sad because it's over, but don't let the expression fool you; they all had a fantastic time.) The boys wore their Official Party Gear: wild print, button-up, short-sleeved shirts.

Also affectionately known around our house as "BBQ Shirts", due to the fact that they're worn to any gathering at which there is food. (The prints hide stains beautifully, by the way.)

For his birthday gift, he wanted one thing, and one thing, only:

A Daisy Red Ryder, lever action BB gun.

(Two things. He also wanted BBs.)

He swore he wouldn't shoot his eye out.

This is our little Jeremiah Johnson, our little Lucas McCain. He had the manual out and read, cover-to-cover, before I could get the waffles made. We knew the wait between getting his present in the morning and waiting for Dad to get off work to shoot it would make the day miserably long, so we took it with us into town and after bowling and lunch, we hit the range. As you can see, here, even a low-flying military helicopter (which had Smidge entranced) couldn't distract him from the task at hand. Not even for a second.

Since Friday evening, he's been down by the balcony, working his own homemade range. Almost 2000 BBs have winged their way into the target. Zorak just told me John got a blister on his hand from working the lever. This is one contented, happy little marksman. And he's growing up into a fine young man, indeed.

Happiest of Birthdays, Sweet John! We love you, and are so proud of you.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy