Dust Yourself Off...

OK, enough of that. A good night's rest, some curriculum planning (always seems to perk me right up, that), and a gung-ho morning have helped clear the cobwebs from my head. But you know, one of my biggest pet peeves is someone who will accept your hospitality, stay in your home, and then have the gall to lob insults at you from left field when nobody's looking. That's just plain cowardice, and if you're going to come stay at my house, I don't ask that you do my wash, or my dishes, or even take out the trash. But by God, I do expect you to be at least civil to me. Thhbbtth. (Had to get that off my chest.)

I'm reading Burl Ives' The Wayward Stranger's Diary - a delightful book of anecdotes as collected by Mr. Ives over the years. Makes for very easy bedtime (ok, two AM) reading, as the stories are fairly short. If I fall asleep mid-read, I don't have to go back forty pages the next day to figure out where I dropped off.

After a week of sweltering Southern Summer weather, it's been absolutely beautiful the last couple of days. Sadly, we're a little slow on the uptake and completely missed one full day of it because we never ventured out (it looked hot, okay?) Today, however, we've collected debris, mowed the front forty (er, patch, if I'm being honest), did a little math, and fixed a delicious breakfast. Oh, and tidied the house, read about the Barbary pirates, and decided we really deserve a trip to the corner gas station/market for a bug juice when we get more gas for the mower. No reason not to kill two birds and cook them up with one stone, right?

This afternoon, I hope to paint the guest room. The guys got it primed yesterday, with much ado. Still, it's primed. Yay.

Last night was almost fall weather. It didn't have the smell of fall, but it had the cool breeze, the rustling of leaves (in our case, the leaves from last fall, but still, they sounded nice). I got the back porch cleared off, and finally removed the electrical-wiring-as-clothes-line from the eaves. It still has a distinctly backwoods air to it, but it's much more roomy and inviting now. Just don't look up at the spikes protruding from the tin overhead, and you're good.

Okay, I hear fussing. Time to go play military dictator and irate peasants. Weeee!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

If You Have Been Praying for Patience for me...

QUIT! Please, stop. Now.

*sigh*

That's all I can say here. I would rather wrestle a grizzly with my bare hands and just get it over with.

A Very Tired, Dy

General Day

We had our new patient visits for all three boys today. God bless any physician who is willing to schedule them all in tandem, on the same day, and in the same room. A pox on any physician who simply isn't that brave! If we mothers can manage it on our own (WHY didn't I ask Zorak to come? What was I thinking?) then so can they (and they have nurses for backup, too!) I do love our pediatrician.

We learned a few things today:

* John is terribly, completely, and utterly left-eye dominant. He is SO left-eye dominant that he tipped over twice while the nurse attempted to test his right eye. He was be fine with all the directions, right up to, "just look at the red dot"; then the head began to lean and swivel. You could see that left eye jockeying for position. I could have helped, if I hadn't been sitting behind her, laughing. He tried, though, for all he was worth, and finally succeeded in keeping his head mostly straight long enough for her to test his right eye. You could see the concentration in his face, though, and his little neck muscles strained and trembled with the effort. Both eyes are fine, although it's pretty obvious he has no intention of using that right eye, except in emergencies.

* Smidge will never volunteer to go first again. Ever. The boys each took turns going first for various bits of the visit: weigh-in, height, exam, talking with the doctor. Oh, this is easy! This is fun! The nurse comes in and asks, "OK, who wants to go first?" It's not his fault he didn't recognize the little alcohol swabs and plastic capped syringes. Smidge volunteered and hopped gleefully up onto the table. Two shots: polio and tetanus. HOLY CRAP, WOMAN!! WHAT DID I EVER DO TO YOU!?!? Or, that's what he would have said if he'd thought of it.

In all, the boys all held out far better than I did at that age. We talked about FDR and rusted things. We talked about Smidge's duck band-aids (which turned out to be a bad choice, as it sent him off, muttering to himself and glaring at us all over again). And then, it was over. For me, it was delightfully wonderful to hear the doctor say, "It is up to you." I love that man.

* James has a referral to an ENT for a full audiology workup. I'm not in full panic mode, and we won't have any firm information until after the ENT visit, but it does look like there may be a few hurdles in his path. If there are, well, then it's our job to show him how to leap them. If there are, then that's that and we'll do what we can from here. It's not a big thing, in the grand scheme of things, as a friend said today. But you know, I'm going to go ahead and be sad. I'm going to have a little period of grief and fear for my child, who may be facing some really tough stuff ahead. That doesn't mean I'm throwing in the towel. And it doesn't mean he's any less capable of doing the things he loves to do. It simply means that, as every mother would, I am going to wish like hell that I could take his limitations on myself and leave him free to flourish. I'm going to stand at his bedside and let slip a tear or two for the inevitable pain and disappointment that all our children encounter in life - pain we just would rather they not ever encounter. But they do. And rather than your basic conditioning and running skills, we may have to teach him some leaping and vaulting skills, as well. And that's okay, too.

In all, though, the boys got clean bills of health. The doctor prescribed eye drops for James' EyeThing (yay!), and said that if he has another incident and the drops don't help, he will schedule an appointment with an allergist.

We came home, popped popcorn, watched Charlie and the Chocolate Factor, made milkshakes, and then read stories til our eyes watered. It was a good night. It was a good day. And tomorrow's Saturday! Yay!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Do As I Say???

I work very hard to model the behavior I would like my children to embed in their delicate little psyches. My success at this endeavor will be weighed largely by how much of their savings goes toward therapy rather than college. However, in spite of my natural swaggering rhythm and rather tense facial expressions, I feel like I'm gaining ground in general. Sure, there are things that seem to hinder this process, but in general, they are delightful little boys who live for two things: the ultimate laugh, and to please us.

So today, when all three boys left their wee brains in their room as we headed out the door, I kept calm. I quietly nudged, whispered, guided and directed. This was modeling the behavior at its best, and by golly, it was good!

It was good for the first thirty, possibly forty incidents. Then I found my vocal chords tensing up a bit, and my lips began to do that weird terse, pokey thing they do when I'm trying very hard not to lay into someone. This is the second day in. a. row. that I've experienced the vocal constriction response, so you know, I was pretty primed.

But I ask you, how long does it take before one realizes that you do not STOP in certain places? You do not stop in the middle of a doorway. You do not stop in the middle of any heavily trodden egress. You do not stop in the narrow, crowded section of a grocery aisle. You do not stop in the middle of the crosswalk. You do not stop and loiter in the little entrance to the cashier's cubicle. There are places to "go" and there are places to "stop", and to be honest, they're all pretty well defined.

But, if the consistency of it all isn't a dead giveaway, how about the adults milling about, staring at you, mouthing words in that foreign language your mother swears you ought to know by now? The man said, "Excuse me, boys," but what, what is it that the boys heard? Their blank expressions gave me neither hint nor glimmer of an answer. *blink* *blink* More nudging, guiding, breathing deeply. We'll be okay if we can just get. to. the. car.

As the boys, in unison (the only time they do anything with a unanimous consensus), stopped directly in the middle of the exit doors at the market, I lost it. The pointy lips began flapping wildly as a stream of unintelligible words came frothing from my general direction. The jist of the lecture being that you know how to behave in public, and I know you know. There are simply some things you don't do, and while you DO know that, if you cannot figure out how to implement this information, then perhaps you need to stay home and I will run errands in the middle of the night, when your father can keep guard at the asylum. Sheesh, these are simple, common things, boys.

"Yes, ma'am." They piled into the Suburban while I, lips still flapping wildly (but really, was I ever talking to anyone but myself?) began to unload the cart into the back.

That's when I felt something on my shoulder. I shrugged, thinking it was just the post-partum mange. But still, something on my shoulder. Sort of tickling. So I looked down, and there, mere centimeters from my eyes, is a spider with a body the size of a US Quarter. Crawling ON my skin. Crawling TOWARD my face.

You know the liturgy of well-defined things you don't do in public? I broke every single one of them. And while I was there, cussing like a sailor, flailing madly and backing away from wherever the monster might be crouching after it's death-defying flicking from my body... I happened to catch a glimpse of something shiny out of the corner of my eye. And I looked up to see...

A man and his wife sitting in their car, in the driving lane, waiting patiently for the insane swearing woman to stop dancing in the lane so they could pass.

Um... yeah. Maybe it's best if we all stay home for a while?

Yeah, I kissed those babies. Very humbling, indeed.
~Dy

Forever Home Photos - The Living Room

The before photos have been lightened to show detail. It was actually quite a bit darker in there. The wall between the kitchen and living room came down, and that's now where the island is located. The changes opened the place quite nicely, but they also hogged out a lot of the actual "living room space". Then, in addition to moving the "dining room" into the other end of this room (it was originally one long stretch of living room, and the original dining room was what will one day be our school room/reading nook - it's the last room left to do), that left us with a very tiny space for a living room. That's when we started hearing voices, but that's another post.

This is the room as it appeared when we first looked at it. The long, scary hallway is to the left (that door's gone now, and it's just a hallway again). The kitchen/laundry space is to the right, on the other side of the built-in bookcase. That door against the back wall leads to steps that pretend to lead down to the back yard.


A basic shot from the entry, looking in. On the other side of that wall is the kitchen and the washer/dryer set up.


This wall came down pretty easily...


But then there was "the wall of fear", which also, incidentally, came down easily. But it wasn't such a warm and fuzzy feeling when it did. This is the back, exterior wall. The one that sits there, looking so innocent and solid in the first shot. We pulled the paneling and found this:


That is exterior brick peeking through, my friends! There's nothing there but snake sheds and a few unfortunate squirrel remains. Oh, and an old fireplace. (Remember the stove in the basement with the myriad pipes? They led to what was left of this chimney!)And just in case you need a closer look...


We rebuilt the wall, framing it out and jamming it into place. (See the pretty, new white wall there, on the right?) Then, since it was December and as you can see, there was no insulation, we brought up and installed the behemoth stove. The living room stayed like this for quite some time:


This is what nesting looks like when you're renovating. It's not a pretty sight, I know. But if you wanted to know how easy it is to texture walls, well, there ya go.


And now, the living room is about 85% finished.

The space above the back door will be trimmed with a rough hewn board, to give it a litle architectural interest, as well as delineating the change in "spaces": kitchen, living, dining. (We'll mirror that on the opposide doorway leading into the hall.) The door, painted. Eventually it'll be removed, and that opening will be widened to extend into a family room. The space is much easier to use now, and it acts as wonderful overflow seating when the kitchen fills up.

And this one, taken from the entry again. Look, Ma - No Wall! The picture's a bit fuzzy, but you can see the finished paint on the kitchen window. What a difference nice trim makes! Yes, it's frustrating, and yes, I will be complaining about it again in the near future. But when all is said and done, it is worth the effort.


Still a lot of work to do, but it's come a long way toward feeling like Home. Hopefully, I will be able to get the bedroom before and after shots posted before the end of the month. And someday, when we're old and decrepit, we may get to working on the exterior of the place!

Thanks for taking a look!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Dining Room Photographs

Well, here it is, the dining room. This is, perhaps, my favorite room. Not that I'm knocking the bath, which was our first encouraging hint that we would not, contrary to our most terrifying nightmares, still be living in a half-baked shack for the rest of our natural lives. I still love the bath. But I really like my spring-grass green walls in the dining room now. It's about as far from the color of mold as you can get and still be green. This is the abridged version of the visuals, mostly because it's late and I haven't the mental integrity to come up with captions for all of the images that belong to this montage. (That, and I just don't want to relive it right now. I hope you understand.)

So, without further ado, I give you The Dining Room:
This was what it looked like when we bought it. Remember, that carpet is supposed to be platinum white, not, as mere visual input would indicate, taupe. Ew. Low ceilings - not much we can do about those. Light-sucking holes there at the end. And you can't see it in this photo, but everything was fuzzy and the smell - if I could somehow get the smell put into a scratch-n-sniff sticker and sent out for everyone to use as they read. Well, I wouldn't. That's just wrong.

And yet, we fell in love with the place... it still boggles the mind. So, we took to gutting it while the weather was still nice enough to keep the children outside. Here it is, as we rip out the walls.

And here, with the source of the smell, all piled up into one stench-filled pile. Have I mentioned that I hate carpet? I mean, I really, really hate carpet. At least, now I do.

I think it was about mid-November that we had the new subfloor in and Zorak found the table. We could allow the children inside the home, now. (Note how incredibly brown Smidge is, there in the middle. That's what happens when you live outside for two months. James is not brown because you must have pigmentation in order to turn brown and he, evidently, has none.) However, everybody can eat inside now! Yippee!

And then, *poof*, *poof*, *poof*, two Federal holidays and one additional child later, we finally have the dining room relatively finished. Still lacking a floor, trim, and a little detail work. But just look at the difference the paint made on those windows! (Imagine what they'll look like when I get around to cleaning the storm windows and screens.) This shot was taken from about the same place as the first image.

This next image is a slightly closer shot, to show off the two little photo-helpers who helped out. Also, to point out that when the dining table and that corner hutch are refinished, they'll be close to the same color as the curtain rod. (Zorak wants me to mention that he does know the rod needs to be trimmed, but that zany wife of his was literally jonesing to hang the curtains now-now-now when he brought the rod home. I've mentioned it.) Also, I'd like to mention that John dressed himself, and I had nothing to do with the sock selection for today. Thank you.


I'll post the living room shots in a separate post. It's late and I have a TON of sleep to catch up on. One of the wonderful things about photographs is that they can help you regain your perspective, and remember what you've done, and why. I think this is true of many things: loved ones, favorite places, and special times; the things and parts of our lives. There is so much beauty to soak up in each area of our lives, but sometimes we need a little reminder about the things that are beautiful. The things that motivate us. The progress we've made, and the growth we've experienced. So while the paint and the drywall and the safe wiring is one thing, I've got to say that this last picture is a better descriptor of what motivates us and makes us smile.



Kiss those babies! And thank you for sharing our Forever Home adventure with us.

~Dy

Well, goodness.

I owe someone a "Thank You", but I don't know who!

Have y'all seen the Blogs of Beauty Awards? I've seen the logo around. You know, on other people's blogs. Very lovely, and pretty. They are like gentle paintings, or nice wall sconces - something I'd love to use to adorn my home (virtual or otherwise). But with the construction dust, the herding of cats, the mental exhaustion and the occasional drizzling sarcasm, (not to mention the fact that I don't think I've ever posted anything that really called for accompanying Scripture), I felt very confident that it would take, oh, someone else doing my blogging for me before Classic Adventures was ever mentioned in those circles. Well, then tonight I saw two links over here from over there. Hmmm, being the naturally curious creature I am, I popped over to see how on earth anyone could get here from there.

And there it was! Classic Adventures, nominated for best encourager (general) and best meet for a mocha. I didn't win in either category. Wasn't even a finalist. (The winners are some truly fine bloggers, by the way, and there are a number of great blogs in general. I found the site two hours ago and just got done cruising about!) But what a sweet delight to find our little spot mentioned.

So, to whomever nominated Classic Adventures, thank you! I'm glad you are encouraged here. (I also think it's totally cool that someone would like to meet me for a mocha! How'd you know I like chocolate? Or was it the caffeine?) And I do have one niggling little question - how'd you filter out the Nicene Creed thing? I can't remember mentioning it here, ever, and of course my latest reference to church included referring to our elders as the Spanish Inquisition (which is totally tongue in cheek - our elders are awesome, wonderful men!) Either way, thank you. I don't know who you are, but I hope you see this. You really made me smile this evening.

~Dy

And now, it is quiet...

I've got lesson plans set for the morning, then we'll break for some play and exploration time. When it gets hot out, we'll come in and pay homage to this:


The late morning is targeted for a thorough cleaning and sorting on the house. I'm tempted to do something like this:

But we've worked so hard, that it seems a bit rash. *grin* So, instead we'll just put things back in order and get moving again. Ward's bedroom needs texturing and priming, the cabinets need to be put back in order, and that poor little linen closet is patiently awaiting a final coat of paint. Should be a productive day, in all.

Oh, we should probably work on the deck, too...

Ignoring the paneling along the rail (the posts are too far apart to prevent certain toddlers from attempting an aerial assault on the drive below), that limb just didn't do the deck any favors when it performed a triple-axle with a half twist from the top of a tree. I think that's the next project, hopefully this weekend. But it could use some cleaning and prep work first.

Granny and the rest of the gang headed out this morning. They left shortly after the children and I left for church. That seemed to soften the blow a bit for the boys - all the hugs and kisses were shared, and then, before anyone had a chance to really start crying, it was hustle-hustle-hustle into the Suburban and off to Sunday School, which is always a treat. By the time we returned home, there was lunch to be made, adventures to be had, and a trip into town to see friends.

Now, it's quiet. A slightly lonely quiet, but honestly, I think I'm ready. A little routine. A little normalcy. Vacation is wonderful, but I don't think I have the energy to live on Vacation Time all the time. The boys were in bed by nine-fifteen and out cold by nine-thirty, a full hour and a half earlier than any night the last two weeks. Funny how they didn't fight it, either. I think they had a glorious time, but don't think they'll fret much over getting back to our Normal Time. (I misplaced the camera the last few days of the trip, so no photos until somebody takes pity on me and uploads from their cameras.)

And on that note, it's time to hit the hay. Sunup will come far too early, but I've got to get a jump start on the morning before the boys are up!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Um, hi!

It's almost noon, and I've not had nearly enough coffee just yet, so this may be a bit disjointed.

Zorak and his brother spent the night on the boat the other night. They moored halfway between the bank and the channel (thus avoiding the unpleasant event of being awoken by a barge slamming into the boat at five in the morning, yet still getting far enough off the bank to avoid a good portion of the 'skeeters.) The next morning's run was hectic, but everybody loaded onto the boat with muffins and jams and strawberry cider for breakfast while Zorak drove me into town to the dentist.

Ow. I completely underestimated a tooth removal. Somehow, I'd had it in my head that it was similar to a root canal. Funny, funny Dy. Um, no. But all went well and I've got to go see another torture professional next week for the replacement parts. The swelling should go down someday, and thanks to Miss Emily's diet, the narcotics offered to me weren't an option. Tempting, but still not an option. We went back to the ramp and met the boat around noon. I laid down and slept peacefully to the rythmic thump and thud of small children leaping from port to starboard. Once in a while, I had to scootch about a bit to get my head back out of the sun, but that's not bad. Life on a houseboat sounds rather appealing...

Mid-afternoon, we pulled into a neat little cove, where everyone swam and explored. Zorak cooked up a pile of various things on sticks, and everybody ate their fill. By five o'clock, the palest folks had tested the outer limits of the 40SPF sunscreen, the smallest folks had run off their energy reserves, and the older folks, well, we were just plain pooped. So we docked the boat and came home for showers and... and I don't know what everyone else did, but Miss Emily and I passed out around six-thirty.

Since we pretty well fried the girls yesterday, and would like to avoid their mother's wrath as much as possible, we decided they'd best not to go swimming today. So, everybody's going to see the latest Jack Sparrow flick this afternoon. I wanna go, too, but somebody needs to stay with the wee ones. Smidge, Miss Emily and I are going to go visiting with friends and relax a bit in the relative quiet.

Should be good stuff.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy