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

5th Grade, The Plan

... because he's all about the planning!

Math: Math-U-See Epsilon/Zeta He's incredibly familiar with all the topics in these two books, so we plan to complete them this year and add enrichment material to go deeper, instead of moving straight into pre-algebra. (Plus Murderous Maths, just for fun - the boys thought they looked like a blast. Yeah, we're geeks.)

Latin: Latin Prep Book 1 - I know, I know! Don't mock me. We still love Latin for Children, but I don't know if we love it $140 worth of love. That's a lot of books we'll never own, when I could just hand him my Henle and Vulgata and turn him loose. So, shush. We'll give this a shot and see how it goes. I plan to order both the Latin and the Murderous Maths from Ray. Heard good things about doin' business with Ray.

Writing: We're cranking things up a bit with writing this year. He will either excel beautifully or beg for death. Possibly even both. In the end, though, it's all good.

Imitation in Writing - Aesop He tried the samples of IW-Aesop and loved them. The plan is to use Imitation in Writing until he's ready for Classical Writing.
Italic Handwriting, Book F I went with Italic handwriting because unless this child becomes a doctor, his current handwriting is going to hinder any hope of future employment. HWT has scads of room for flair, but it wasn't cutting it for legibility.
Spelling Workout E Aaaaand... I think I may have ordered the wrong spelling book. Just dawned on me while I was looking for links. So, um, anyone want to chime in on Spelling Workout 2001, vs. MCP? Anyone? Anyone? I don't know. He's a natural speller, anyway. This is just my neurosis kicking in. Plus, the kid lives for workbooks, and we just don't use them, really. Maybe he won't notice he's writing? And perhaps I won't care that I bought the wrong edition? You never know how things will turn out.


Reading: I don't have an official list together yet. He wants to work his way through the Chronicles of Narnia again. I have some ideas, some biographies, some historical fiction, some techie type stuff lined up. I think this will be a good year for reading, really. This is one area for which I don't need to plan too terribly much, as he's always on the lookout for a good book.


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. He's moving along nicely, and loves it. His teacher uses Alfred's books (method? something of Alfred's, anyway) and was explaining that if she'd known he would do as he's doing, she'd have started him at level 1 to begin with, rather than the prep books. So he's gone through three books since he started in March and she did go ahead and jump him ahead. He loves this stuff. Part of me wishes we'd started earlier, but another part really feels he's getting so much out of it because we waited. Don't even get me started on how that can be extrapolated out into other areas of learning. Not. Going. To. Go there, thanks.


Art: Artistic Pursuits I think I can, I think I can, I think... I think someone else really needs to offer a co-op for this one, to be perfectly honest. Until then, this is what we'll be doing.


Greek: easy, gentle intro with Hey, Andrew! and some kind of pronunciation CD I picked up at Rainbow Resource - no clue what it is, and it's too late to look it up now. However, we're on our way.


Religion:
Kids Catechism, Lee Strobel's The Case for Christ for Kids, and interspersed work from Doorposts, Keys for Kids Daily Devotionals, and maybe-hopefully-sure-would-be-great-if... we could get some PCA action down here in Morgan County. We'll see. Not a high-need area for ministry, I suppose. So, we're still pretty much on our own, as far as that goes. But that's okay. We can hang for a while.


As you can see, there is one glaringly obvious piece lacking... no science. I mean, we'll DO science, it's just that I haven't picked a curriculum yet. I have no idea what I want for this year. Biology, per the WTM sounds good, but nothing has grabbed me and said, "USE MEEEEEE" yet, and that's really what I was hoping for this year. We do need a good microscope, and heaven knows we have plenty of things to look at under it. But I still need a good spine.


And so, there you have it - fifth grade, in a nutshell. Probably a fairly sketchy nutshell. I'll edit in the morning. :-) If it looks like I've missed something, let me know, please. The last thing I want to do is tell him at the end of the term that we've got to do a two-month intensive on underwater basketweaving, or some other important skill, because I forgot to schedule it in!


Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Warts and All

You know how, once in a while you come across someone you just adore, and you hit it off, and even when you don't agree, it's all good...

but still, you think maybe they'd not take kindly to the vice (or two...) you happen to have in the closet...

and then they find out, and they don't care, and you could just send them a Gorilla-Gram or an Amish stripper. Or, something.

But you don't because now you *really* want to remain friends?

Yeah. I love it when that happens.

On the other tidbits around here:
* We were on time to piano for the third week running! WOOT! Granted, we shaved it close enough that I had to slow down and shove the kids out, paratrooper style, so they could run in while I found a place to park. So, we don't quite rock, but hey, we aren't horribly pathetic anymore, either. Yay, us! (And I'm kidding. I came to a full stop. And they jump out on their own. I don't have to push 'em anymore.)
* Didn't get the garden mulched. The rootbound plants are going to die a lingering death. Perhaps we can rectify that tomorrow. Or simply prolong the death. We'll play it by ear.
* Glad to know the snake wasn't poisonous. Kinda bummed that we've been so hard on the non-poisonous snake population in Northern Alabama. But then, again, that's because we haven't yet been accosted by the poisonous ones, and for that, I'm doubly glad.
* What eats poisonous snakes? Whatever it is, I want to raise that. (I've heard a hog will eat snakes - truth? hoax? Someone who just thinks it'd be funny to watch me try to raise hogs?)
* Having a hard time finding that magic frequency 9yo boys can hear and comprehend. He's a good boy. Heart of gold. Extends compassion and aid to those in need. Wonderful, wonderful child in so many ways. However, I seem to speak in a tone that falls somewhere between "can't make out a word you're saying, Mom, so I'll go about my merry way and do what I want" and "yes, ma'am. I'm sorry, ma'am. I don't have an excuse. Or a reason. But ya know, as bad as I feel right now, I'm probably going to blow you off again in the next five minutes, anyway." I won't quit trying, but so help me, if his internal receiver switches frequencies again when he turns ten, I may take up tweezing my leg hairs in order to find a non-destructive outlet for my frustration.
* When did Smidge quit being a Smidge? He's really growing up fast, guys. Wow.
* EmBaby has barrettes now. We're hoping they'll stay in longer than clippies. So far, the only way I've found to keep her hair out of her face is to brush it straight back after her bath and then hairspray it into place. Helmet head isn't attractive on anyone, not even a 2yo. So, I'm putting a lot of hope into these barrettes.
* And did you know that the active ingredient in "After Bite" (which looks like the latest version of "Sting-EZ") is ammonia? AND that it works!?! I guess there's some truth to the whole backcountry hiking tip to urinate on a bite/sting. However, we'll just buy extra tubes of After Bite and call it good, I think.

OK, way past my bedtime. Busy day tomorrow! Kiss those babies, of all ages. Even the big ones need it -- sometimes more! ;-)
~Dy

This is why I'm not a master gardener.

We picked up some free plants from the feed store Tuesday. (Yes, the fact that we're waiting until the little seedlings are rootbound and free until we get them probably contributes to the reason I'm not a master gardener. But that's not the point.) So, we weeded the raised beds in the upper meadow, and then I began to turn them so that we could add compost and get the little plants put into the ground.

But when I took my shovel to one of the beds, I couldn't raise it. What in the world? When did I become the 98-pound weakling? Erngh. Huhhhhnh. I finally got the shovel to lift up out of the ground, only to find this...
Well, it didn't look like that when it first came out. I could swear to you it was three times bigger and had glowing red eyes. I'm pretty sure I heard it whisper, "I am here for your soul." So, I did what anyone would do when something announces it's here for your soul. I bashed it in the head with the shovel. Or, I meant to bash it in the head, but I have no depth perception, so I kinda got everything but the head. At which point I called for Daddy to come save me. He came running up the hill, took in the scene, chuckled, and said it didn't look like I needed saving. (But I still felt better that he was there.)

Anyone know what this thing is? Is it a good witch, or a bad witch? Here's the belly. I've tried googling it. Got hits on some fantastic tattoo designs, but nothing on what to call this thing.

So, anyway, I called it a day after that, and we'll have to put the tomatoes in later, after I've had a beer or two. (*snort* Like that's going to help with my aim, right?)

Kiss those babies!
Dy

Feral Flora

We have a jungle out there.
Ivies (both decorative and nasty), oaks, fruits, ferns, saplings...
stuff we have no clue what to call...
but do you see it?

Right... there. Yes, that's berries.
Feral berries, right smack in the middle of the jungle.

And not just a random one or two, either. The forest floor is full of them!

I don't know if they'll make it to maturity, but if they do, we're going berry picking later this summer. That's just too exciting to pass up! And I'm out of jam, too!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy
(I apologize for the fuzzy shots - I had Jase in the sling, and he was not terribly thrilled with the fauna in the woods... darned skeeters.)

Mom! Come look at Jason!

I heard the cry emanate from the front porch. Smidge sounded so serious. So I ran up the sidewalk, wondering what on earth had happened. I reached the stop of the hill. Panting, I ask Smidge, "What? What is it? What about Jason?"

Smidge smiles, and says, "He's so cute! Come look!"

Ahhhh. Yes. He is cute. And patient, too.

It's good to be loved.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Before and After

(Edited to add: photo glitches have been fixed!)

Main shots, Balcony O' Death...

After the destruction...

As of this evening...

The nasty, gaping holes have been filled. The balcony is taking shape...

Yay.

I've posted three separate posts in order to accomodate Blogger's cap on uploading images per post, so if you'd like to see more, scroll down. The previous two posts have all the fun details for ya!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Balcony O' Death: Reconstruction

Here, you can see John starting to work on the stairs beneath the door that's been wired shut ever since we quit throwing old cabinetry out of it. The bricks that have already come off are now backfill for the driveway. The rest will come off shortly, and will probably be... backfill... for the rest of the driveway. (It's a long driveway.)

And here is the main framing for the deck that will allow us to unwire the door of death. It will be the door of death no more. Yay!

You can see here how this deck wraps around toward the front, as an extension of the balcony o' not death (still working on a new name for it).

Below, we have piers, glorious piers!

And here, we have glorious piers holding glorious posts. (And, by the way, we are a notoriously messy construction crew. We'll clean up when we're done. Or when we can't find our tools anymore. Please excuse the mess.)

Ta-da!

Details and Tidbits

OK, this is the fun stuff. Kind of. Mostly just fun for us, but you get to watch. Think of it as our version of a vacation slideshow.

This is a close-up of one of the concrete piers. Zorak made the forms. The boys mixed the concrete (about three tons of gravel, two tons of sand, and a whole lot of portland cement - 3-2-1, scoop-and-mix!) Smidge did the tapping. Fun for the whole family! We like the octagonal shape - the corners aren't as likely to chip, and they look really cool when you stand back and take in the whole thing. We didn't use round forms because one day we plan to put in a rock knee wall beneath the balcony to create a sun-room off the basement. The wide, flat sides of this design give us a surface against which to build the wall. (They're the same width as concrete blocks.)

Here you see a regular, plain old ledger board bolted to the house (all the way through to the interior of the basement, not just into the bricks - we've seen pictures of how that goes, and it does not go well. So, nice and secure. Yay.) The beam leaning against the wall shows the jointing (made that word up - expect to hear it in construction circles next season - we're cool that way) for the balcony. Stay with me, it'll make sense in a minute.

Close-up of the notches for the beams, boards, and other woody stuffs. These serve to provide additional strength and support to reduce the risk of hard failure (screws shearing off, nails pulling out, and other nasty gravitationally instigated mishaps). Kinda looks like Lincoln Logs meets Jenga, doesn't it? Zorak had way too much fun with this, I can tell you that.

And this is how it all goes together. Zorak is hanging one part of the cantilever beam on the outside notch of the picture you just saw (another board goes on the inside, and then there is a board between the two, so the cantilever beam is three layers thick). You can see on the right hand side, at the corner of the house, where the first notched beam is now bolted to the ledger board, and how the ledger board sits inside the notch, on a ledge of its own. It's a sort of ledge-within-a-ledge schematic. All of the posts along the wall are secured to the concrete piers with base posts, to the house with anchor bolts, and to the ledger (which is also secured to the house). A tornado may take down the house, but this balcony and, the wall it's attatched to, will remain standing.

How do you move a 9' tall 6x6 beam 1/8" to plumb? You break out the Animaniacs tools! This is actually the sledge-o-matic for squashing aluminum cans, but we found it works great for making minute adjustments to the beams without marring the surface. We call it the tweak-o-matic, now. Again, look for this term to surface among all the cool DIY-ers this season.

Need Your Best Stories!

OK, it's time to rally 'round a post-partum Mom, and I need you guys to help me. Hit me with your best post-partum, totally overwhelmed stories. The ones you can laugh about now, not the one that may have made you cry this morning. This is for a wonderful friend and mother who is currently having a post-partum ack-attack.

You know the feeling. You've spent the last two and a half months of your pregnancy thinking that as soon as you can eat more than a tablespoon of food without getting heartburn, as soon as your ankles no longer have the same girth as your thighs, as soon as you can roll over without needing the assistance of three acrobats and a crane, as soon as you can go two hours without needing to pee... as soon as you have. this. baby... life will get back to normal. It's an obsession like few others, and a pregnant woman begins to look toward That Day with the glow and expectancy normally reserved for... well, let's be honest, normally reserved for lunatics who await the return of the MotherShip. It's not rational, but in the third trimester, that doesn't matter.

Then the baby comes.

And the learning curve can seem just as steep as it did the first time.

And the baby seems to sleep only when you aren't needed by the other children, or by your partner, or by a jury selection team.

And you can't figure out why you feel so grimy, until you do the math and realize you haven't showered since Tuesday. Or shaved since that first glorious day you could reach your legs again.

And suddenly, it feels like your 24 hours in each day only have maybe 45 minutes in each one. Yet your to-do list has somehow quadrupled.

And that glorious return of the MotherShip seems to have only brought you more demands and less ability to fulfill them. And of course, there's no chocolate, or beer, or help.

Yeah. It's normal. But in the midst of it, you look around and feel like every other mother on the face of the planet has it totally together, didn't blink twice after having her umpteenth child, and would probably snort derisively, flick you in the back of the head and tell you to get it together if only she could see the paralysis taking over your brain.

Would you share your stories to help a Mom-in-Need today? C'mon, let's make her smile. Let's remind her (and maybe someone else who might read this and recognize herself in our stories) that she's not alone, it's not going to last forever, and it's all gonna be OK!

You can post your stories on your blog and put a link in the comments. Or, you can post your stories under the comments, here. It's all good. Just please share your stories with her.

I'll add mine tomorrow. Sometimes, it's difficult to articulate, and we do tend to be hard on ourselves when we can't just snap back into shape like Elasti-Girl and start living like Martha Stewart three weeks after giving birth. (Even if we didn't live like Martha, or have any elastic left *before* we got pregnant!) I've written about it a couple of times here, and here, and here, but in the spirit of full disclosure I'll add more.

Your turn!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

A Day in Which...

We accomplish absolutely nothing!

That's on tomorrow's agenda. Today, we were up, dressed, fed, and out the door in time for baseball camp. We took both the recycling and the donations to their respective new homes, washed and vacuumed the Suburban, and brought ourselves back into the good graces of the little local library. We picked up John, hit the Fudge Shoppe (ran into someone we know! That feels SO good, after not having it for such a long time. *happy sigh*), and then ran into town.

I got my hair done. Slept through most of it. Nice Hair Lady let me nap, and when I apologized for my burgeoning narcolepsy, she said if she had that many kids, she'd pass out every time she stopped moving at all. Normally, I'd think that was a weird thing to say, but today I was just glad for the empathy. The nap and the dye job both did wonders for my overall outlook.

From there, we went up to Me-Wa and Me-Tae's place and stayed far later than we should. It was just so. incredibly. nice. It's hard to leave, and we all had a wonderful time kibbitzing and chatting and eating. Gotta love the eating. I need to get Me-Tae's pasta-shrimp-thingy recipe. It was way-nummy. The kids, of course, were on cloud nine to see Me-Wa and Me-Tae, to play in the yard, to love on the doggies, and to have *soda*!! The little boy from up the road came over and ran amok with our kids. He's such a great kid. We'd bring him home with us if we thought his mother wouldn't hold it against us. As it is, however, we're pretty sure that'd be a grudge-worthy adventure, so we'll just see if we can borrow him when we're in town.

Tomorrow, we sleep in, eat cold cereal for breakfast, do a few chores, and then veg like fresh produce for the rest of the day. I think we can do that without feeling the least bit guilty!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Quick Pics

We did the weekend warrior thing on the balcony, but I haven't organized the pictures for that and haven't had my first cup of coffee yet, either. So, you get pictures of grass, kids, and the birdfeeder.

Do you think the squirrel guard wouldn't frighten the birds if we put a matte finish on it? They haven't eaten a thing out of it since we put that up. Of course, neither have the squirrels, but still... Anyway, it's inspired me to give the boys tin snips and ask them to make giant whirlygigs for the fruit trees. But we'd like to have them come back to the feeder, at least.

Ah, well, it's all good! Kiss those babies!
~Dy

The End of Season Party

We made it. On time, even. Yay, us! The baseball cupcakes were a big hit.

Turns out, they don't photograph well. We ran out of red part of the way through decorating (I know, I know! I thought I had two tubes!), and had to hit three different stores to find more. What we found was a different brand, and had a softer, shinier texture to it. I don't like the way it makes the short stitches. But the kids didn't seem to mind, so that was nice.

In lieu of pouring something wet and sticky on the coach, the coach's wife bought silly string for the kids to douse him with. He took it with such good humor, and, as you can see, the kids absolutely loved it!

Jase hung out a little, passed a lot of gas, and then passed out cold for one of the moms on the team. He was so relaxed, and so deeply asleep, we began to wonder if he'd been drugged...

But, no. He awoke shortly and finished the afternoon playing peek-a-boo with the boys on the team. (Eight year old kids are so cool, you know that? Even they can't resist the lure of making a baby smile. Stuff like that rejuvenates my hope for mankind. It really does.)

And hey, the lumber for the balcony is *scheduled for delivery*!! Tomorrow! It's paid for. They know where we live, and what we need. Wee-ha, it's coming together!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

A Beautiful Blanket - and a Thank You!!

When LB came to visit, she brought a gift that she'd been teasing me with for a while. It is gorgeous. It's a joint project, done by two beautifully talented ladies: LB made the squares and the prairie points; Amy put the back and the trim on and then hand-stitched the whole thing.

Is that not just a gorgeous, gorgeous blanket? It's hard for me to use it. I want to hang it in the foyer. But LB said I had to actually use it or she'd take it back home. She said if I'd use it, and wash it, it would get softer. Being a bit tactile, anyway, that was all it took to talk me into it. We love this blanket. Normally, there's a Smidge on one side of JT and an EmBaby on the other, but I had to chase them off for this picture so that you could actually *see* the blanket, itself. :-)

Another belated, but very heartfelt THANK YOU!!!

Kiss those babies!

~Dy

Testing

I tried the "schedule a post" thing - set it for last night at 7:45 - and as of this morning, it's not there. But now I can't get it to just post immediately, either.

Just when I think I'm catching on to this whole technology thing...

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

*Nevermind, it posted, now. I wish I could say I knew how that happened.*

Fifteen Minutes a Day

You really can do just about anything in fifteen minutes a day. John learned that this week.


The boys' piano teacher got into the habit of scrunching up her face when she talked about how "average" John is, only to absolutely explode with enthusiasm when she dove into how "exceptional" James is. Kinda-sorta irked me, to be honest. I don't claim to think the boys' gifts lie in the same areas (heaven above knows they usually don't even lie in the same general realm!) However, I do expect a child's instructor to be encouraging, kind in both word and attitude, and at least try not to pigeon-hole the children. So, I talked with her about it, and explained that I do not believe a child must be "gifted" to enjoy music, nor do I believe that a special talent for any particular skill necessitates a love-fest at the drop of a hat. I want both of the children to work hard, do their best, progress as well as they can. I want them to be able to be proud of their hard work and accomplishments, and I was worried that they might fall into the tendency to either think they can't do something, or that they don't need to work hard to do "well" (respectively for each child). She took it well. She quit with the face-scrunching.

Meanwhile, we kept practicing and learning and doing those things we do. Every morning, the boys start their day with piano and typing. Fifteen minutes is all I ask that they do, on each one. I set the timer, they work, timer dings, they switch. Easy as pre-made pie crust, for those of us pastry impaired. The piano is free for anybody to use at any other time during the day, but they're little and I figured the Zen-like "one arrow" approach to practice would best suit their current needs.

That was a month ago.

Today, their teacher just about beat John out of the room, and she was beaming. The first thing she said was, "This was a FANTASTIC lesson! He played so well!" He grinned from ear-to-ear. I think he actually blushed. That was so incredibly cool. He passed all the songs, and she assigned him eight new ones for next week. He's feeling pretty darned competent this evening.

After James' lesson, she was still beaming when they entered the lobby. I asked if he'd done his work (we have had questions about that this week, as everytime he's supposed to be practicing, he's making up songs or playing other things that aren't in his book). She said, "Oh, yeah. He's mastered things I haven't given him yet. This book is just too easy, so he'll get new books next week."

Yay. They're working, she's meeting their needs, and I don't have to deal with bad attitudes all the way around. I love it when it all comes together!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Dressed.

You. Are. Getting. Dressed.

(child runs back down the hall for the fortieth time in ten minutes)

ACK. I realize I've left off a pertinent piece of direction, so, breaking several of my house rules, I yell (in the house) to someone (who is not in the room with me)...

AND PUT ON CLEAN, FRESH UNDERWEAR!

*sigh*

No wonder they're confused. At least I didn't use a specific name, so there's hope that each one of them thought I was talking to him, specifically, and I won't have to repeat that last part.

Kiss those distracted, smelly babies.
Dy

A Quiet Thursday

I haven't been taking many pictures lately, at all. You're not missing much. We've all been so busy with domestic tasks, and shots of the kids picking up the living room, while perhaps inspiring, aren't that interesting. Or cute. Trust me. I liked this one, from Tuesday's game. Those little eyebrows are so expressive.

Today is a Quiet Thursday. The boys have piano, and that's it. That's all. Can you believe it? No games, no Scouts, no nuthin'. Sweet, sweet slow-down!

We have grass! Less than a week after we put the seed and mulch down, we have little plugs of grass sprouting up through the straw. I can't believe it survived the party. Very exciting. We've dubbed it the Chia Lawn.

We re-hung the birdfeeder after the squirrels chewed through the cord that held it up. Zorak and James made a very cool Squirrel Guard and installed that above the feeder to keep the squirrels out of it, but I think it's scaring the birds, too. They haven't come to it since we re-hung it.

Zorak said he thinks he's ready to schedule a lumber delivery for the balcony-that-may-one-day-be. He might. We may work on it this week. I don't know. I don't think I'm going to say anything certain until I see the wood being unloaded in the lower drive. After a while, one starts to doubt one's own sanity when going back and re-reading all the times one wrote, "This week we'll..." or "Today we're going to..." and realizing that one's prediction rate is a whopping 8%. OK, I'm assuming we all already knew I wasn't a prophet, right? So we're good on that one? Very well, then.

And that's about all the news that's fit to print this morning (I hate morning-blogging - my brain isn't up yet).
Kiss those babies!
~Dy

At The End of the Day

The game tonight was a real nail biter. (Finger biter. Whatever works.)

The kids played hard, and they played well. In the end, they took second in the Eastern Division Regional Championship. That's a mouthful, isn't it? Can't complain. Not one bit. This was truly a season well-played, and that little medal was earned with a lot of hard work and team effort.
But this is why he'll be playing again in summer league, and again next year -- there are no sour grapes, no bad attitudes, and no losers on this team...
Well played, boys. Well played!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Two Down...

Smidge's team finished tournament play yesterday. They ended the season undefeated, and then took the tournament in a wobbly, distracted, four-year-old sweep of some sort. I'm not sure how it happened. He is convinced the guy on top of the trophy is him, specifically. And, of course, they got nax, which he shared with his friend, Emma (another sideline sibling, whose brother is on John's team). He's already excited about next year, and machine pitch, and playing with his friends again.

James' team lost last night, which puts them third in the league tournament. That's not a bad showing for such a young team (meaning most of the players are first years in this league). We're mostly just relieved that the season is over. It was a good season and a good experience for him -- he had fantastic coaches, a good team, and wonderful opportunities. But he didn't get out of it all that he could -- namely because he didn't put into it all that he could. Funny how that works, isn't it? One day, that'll "click", and it will make a world of difference for him. And that's okay. We'll keep modeling the philosophy, guiding him along the way, and encouraging him to do his best, no matter what he's involved in. (Well, as long as he's not making meth...)

John's team, however, is still in it. They won their five o'clock game last night, so they played again at seven. They won that one. Zorak stopped on his way back from James' game and picked up pizzas for the kids. He figured if they won, it would be a good way to celebrate. If they lost, it would be a good way to soften the blow. Zorak is so cool like that. He remembers what it's like to be nine, or seven, or four. He's got this Dad thing down pat.

Tonight, John's team plays the Falkville team. These kids are tough, but then, from what we've heard when the coaches open their mouths, they have to be. We may not be undefeated in the regular season, but I wouldn't trade a perfect score for the way the Falkville coaches treat their kids (LB - this is the team we heard getting a "pep talk" while you were here!) If John's team can beat them, twice, they'll be the champions. Truthfully, if we can keep the boys from mentally rolling over the minute they see the other team's jerseys, I think they have an excellent chance. These little guys have a lot of heart. Regardless, it was a great season for John's team. And it was fun for us, too. The bleachers aren't terribly uncomfortable when you're watching a child who wants to be there, and is doing what he loves.

I'd like to say this is it. I'd like to say that now we drink lemonade and do commercial-style summery things. But we don't. John's got his eye on second base for next year, and pitching for the following year. There's a clinic that starts Monday, which he is dying to go to. And then, summer ball. That's okay. I can take my lemonade to the ball park and put my chair under a tree. That's summery, right?

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Weekend Recap

Our borrowed teen turned out to be a delightful help. He tilled the big garden down by the barn, learned how to use a chainsaw to cut up deadfall, how to build a horseshoe pit, and many other things. I'd thought he was 15, but he's only 13 -- wow, a 6'2" thirteen-year-old! But you know, he really hung in there pretty well. He went home and collapsed. The next day, he couldn't wait to come to the party and enjoy the fruits of his labor. His help made the rest of our preparations go more smoothly, too, so that we could look forward to the party and the fruits of our labor, as well.

We got done about 80% of what we'd hoped to get done. It wasn't stellar, but we made the intentional choice not to let it bother us. Cousin T and her husband came from NC - they were fantastic company, and T was such a great help with the food prep! The canopies we rented were perfect, and Zorak is ready to make one so that we'll have it on hand anytime. He loves his new grill (we got this one), and it did a bang-up job on Saturday. The feature we loved the most? There are two warming drawers, and the bottom drawer can hold buns and tortillas without melting the wrappers. (Well, he may have loved other features more, but that's the one he told me about with the most enthusiasm, so, there ya go.)

I took maybe two pictures, and neither one was very good. We all kept pretty busy, and when folks started heading out, I was completely surprised to find it was after eight o'clock! Wow. It was so much fun to get to know some of Zorak's co-workers better, and it's always nice to visit with our homeschooling homies from this side of the river. The two groups were a nice mesh. We lit a bonfire when dark set in, and enjoyed the last few guests - more like family than guests - until way past our bedtime. Everybody who came made it a lovely day, and in the end, Zorak enjoyed it tremendously. There were a few notable missing persons, and we missed them, but sometimes things get in the way, and we get that. No worries. We'll definitely be firing up the grill again.

There were a ton of kids, and they had a BLAST. One little guy told his mom as they left, "You know, I really don't like carrot cake, but the party was so much fun that I didn't even care about the cake." Yay.

We spent today resting. Slept in - even the kids didn't budge until ten o'clock. We got the gear loaded, grilled lunch, picked up the trash, saw P and T off, then crashed on the floor with the kids to watch The Incredibles and nap at random. It was a great day of rest for the family.

And tomorrow, it's back to work!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy

So Busy!

I have something Very Exciting to share! But I don't want to blow it just yet by saying anything without posting pictures. This is killing me. (No, we aren't pregnant, and nothing identifiable is actually growing in the garden.) Maybe I can pick up the construction debris enough to post pictures soon? (It's not a finished balcony, either - the rain didn't stop until last night!)

We've worked and worked and worked... and worked. Today we drive and drive and drive. Dentist appointment for me. Piano for the boys. Tournament games for all three kids. Plus, groceries and general planning/cleaning to do.

We get to rent-a-kid on Friday! Well, actually, it's another homeschooling mom who is loaning out her teenager for manual labor over the summer. :-) He's a very sweet boy to agree to come help, and it'll be a serious blessing to have those extra hands. He's a huge help to his mom, but they don't have any manly-man jobs left to do on their house, and she'd like him to have some experience in that realm. Definitely a win-win for everyone: he gets experience, we get help, and she knows he's with people who aren't going to use the Slave Trader method of motivation on her son. I hope we can find people to help work the boys if we're out of things for them to do when they're teenagers.

That said, I've got about half an hour to do some sewing before I need to start making phone calls. Have a great day!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Um... no.

We are just slightly to the right of the red stuff north of the I-65 sign in this picture. Yet, the baseball reps are refusing to cancel John's game tonight. (Supposed to start in one hour - do *you* see a clear spot coming in behind that in the next hour?)

It's been raining steadily since yesterday afternoon, folks! No other teams in the league are playing tonight, and we cannot figure out why on earth they won't cancel this one. However, we just had thunder that shook the entire house... I haven't seen lightning yet, but that doesn't mean I won't.

No, we're not going. Don't care if it's a tournament. Don't care if it's a "big game". This is a lesson in prioritizing. And, from the looks of it, making sure the flashlights all have good batteries!

***UPDATED***
They cancelled the game at the eleventh hour. If we'd planned to go, we'd have already been on the road to get there. *whew* Good call, refs! Good call! ;-)

G'night! Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Sillcocks

Here's a sillcock. This one has all the goodies in ours: anti-siphon, freeze proof, metal ears. It's one of those things you just don't give much thought to, until it leaks, or breaks, or... you don't have one.

Life. Is. Good.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Mmm-mmm, good.

We accomplished so much today. It was fantastic. But my favorite parts of the weekend had nothing to do with progress, or preparation, or anything on our To-Do List. My favorite parts were, as photographed...
* listening to James play the recorder as he sat cross-legged on the bumper buddy...
* watching John rig a contraption for carrying the bucket as he collected pine cones (Zorak and I agree that while he would do just fine on a deserted island, he's enjoy it way too much and douse the fire anytime he heard a plane -- we'd never hear from him again)...
* gardening with EmBaby, and wondering how it is that toddlers can beat the odds and get those little shoes on the wrong feet, every. single. time. But oh, what precious little backward feet...
* looking at Smidge and realizing he's just not much of a Smidge anymore -- he's growing up fast...

This is why we do it, you know. I need to print this photo collage out and tape a copy up in every room, for those times I can't quite wrap my mind around why we're doing this. I just need to remember that I won't find the answer on any list. I have to look around to really see the A-list priorities.

Of course, that said, we worked 'em like black-market child labor all weekend. :-) The upper meadow is mowed and de-limbed. The entire front yard is seeded and mulched. There are five happy little hostas planted in front of the porch. We dismantled the old stringers, removed another good chunk of the brick steps, gathered the bricks and cement debris from the sidewalk we'd pulled up, and took them down to begin filling the driveway holes and building up where the creek had washed away a good five feet of drive over the culvert. We tidied up the construction zone, gathered wood and kindling for a bonfire, and worked in the garden.

Zorak installed not one, but two, sillcocks at the upper end of the house -- one for the front yard and garden areas, one for the back yard. WOOHOO! (That one is almost as exciting to me as the day we got indoor plumbing!)

I finally made it to the fabric store for muslin, the missing key component in the reupholstery project that is destined to make Brand New Furniture sound like a great idea the next time something goes to pot around here, and velcro.

Then, the kids feasted on Otter Pops and played. Zorak and I are going to collapse.

Five days til the birthday bbq. Still trying to line up a bush hog. Need to firm up rental reservations tomorrow. Need to start the shopping list, and buy a grill. Oh, and finish that couch.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

The Awesome Saturday

We got up, fed the kids, spot-cleaned uniforms (the boys wore their jerseys to Smidge's party - it made him feel very proud, and I think the big boys got a kick out of it, too. But, of course, they got mustard, ketchup, and grass stains all over them.) AND out the door for a 9:00 game! WOOHOO!!

WE ROCK!!

The field, glistening in the morning dew (or maybe that was just the glow of being on time?)...

was totally empty...

wha--?

I called the coaches. Turns out, there are no games this weekend. There was enough uproar that they moved all the games. Huh. Well, cool. It's nine o'clock, and we're up, awake, and ready to tackle... um... something else.

Zorak finished the lumber bids. He put up a post or two. He would have accomplished more if the rest of us didn't keep needing his help.

I tilled the front yard. By the time we're done with the tilling, I should have shoulders and forearms that would shame the old East German swim team! Yeah, that's a sexy look for summer. Until then, however, I'm so not there, yet. Zorak had to restart it for me, every time. At one point, I wanted to throw an old-fashioned temper tantrum because I. Cannot. get this thing to start. Makes me feel so helpless, and I hate it. Fortunately, he doesn't complain about having to stop what he's doing to come help me. He always says, "It's tricky" - which is probably a lie - then he smiles and winks at me and sometimes gives me a kiss. That takes some of the sting out of it.

John helped me plant the hostas. Smidge and Emily drowned them. I think we should have put water lilies there. We found some more hostas in the sloped yard, and since there isn't enough sun, they aren't very big, so I think we're going to move those today up to the foundation area.

John moved all the limbs out of the back yard. He tossed bricks out of the back yard. He dumped cement into the driveway. He helped tidy the house. That child is a Work Horse of the First Order. He's amazing when he puts on his game face.

James took care of JT most of the day - having him around is like having Super Nanny - he's fantastic. He finally got the baby settled on the porch with his bouncy seat, where he happily hung out talking to spider webs and hummingbirds for the rest of the afternoon. When James wasn't busy with the baby, he gathered all the pine cones from the yard for the bonfire next week, and kept busy doing tidy work on the garden bed and the rest of the meadow.

We took on the poison ivy. We won't win, but we can hold it at bay while the company is here.

We put grass seed down on a quarter of the lawn, and mulched it with straw. I've got to get pictures of that process today. Oh, my word, the kids are SO cute spreading the straw! James and John may not be big, but they can manhandle a bale with gusto. One flake is as big as EmBaby, and she feels SO BIG helping to spread it around. If I hadn't been afraid my shoulders would seize up and refuse to move, I'd have stopped working to just watch them do their thing.

We took a break to check our fruits. As we walked past one tree, I told Zorak, "I swear, that tree looks like it should BE something." He stopped, stared, and said, "Um, it is!" Hey, whaddya know! We've got another fruiting tree! It looks like it's a pear, although a different variety than *the* pear tree we've been working on all this time. How. Cool. The count is now up: two apples, two pears, one peach. It's like Christmas in May!

Can't wait to see what we accomplish and find today!

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Score!

The ultimate cake to take to the end-of-season game? Baseball cupcakes!

1. Make cupcakes.

2. Make white icing (powdered sugar, lard, butter flavoring, and a titch of salt). Make it a little thin, with just a bit of meringue powder. This way, it will go on the cupcakes easily, self-level to a smooth, uniform surface, then harden in place. Voila!

3. Use red icing, and a small, round tip to pipe on the stitching - two half-circle lines opposite one another for the seams, like looking at the top of a baseball. Then pipe a series of short "stitches" going across the red half-circles.

4. For a real thrill -- complete with the kind of leaping up and down and spontaneous leg-hugging you get only from excited four-year-olds -- individualize the cupcakes with the kids' jersey numbers. (But be sure to take extras that look *exactly* the same, sans jersey number, for siblings - no matter how cool your other cupcakes look, they will pale in comparison and go untouched.)

So. Easy. Especially if you have either a) help, or b) a press-style decorator. The bag works beautifully, but unless you have calloused tendons from years of cake decorating already, the cramping starts in around the sixth cupcake.

By the twelfth cupcake, I began to appreciate child slave labor.

By the end of two dozen, my hands were shaking so badly, I was certain I'd developed a sudden-onset form of Parkinson's.

Oh, and #5 - take pictures *before* you leave for the party. The cupcakes won't last long enough to get a single shot once you arrive.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

It's FRIDAY

I have no idea why I'm so excited about that! I don't work outside the home. I don't get the weekend off. It must be some residual Pavlovian training.

Smidge has a team party today. He's thrilled. I'm panicky. I'd offered to make the cake, but then never got any further information from the coach's wife. Yeah, I'm good like that. So, as soon as the boys are done getting their room picked up, we're off for more powdered sugar and some beer.

Oh, speaking of alcohol in a dry county in the Bible belt... Y'all remember my last awkward t-shirt moment? Well, folks, I did it again. Smidge had the last game of the regular season. We had a Very Busy day, what with all of whatever we did on Tuesday. (I don't remember, but I do remember being rather harried and working outside.) John had a game at the same time, another field. We did the ol' one-two, slow-down-and-kick-'em-off-at-the-field drop. (I like to pretend they're paratroopers and I'm the cool Army pilot.)

Got to Smidge's field, dropped everything I had in my hands (including the carseat with Jason in it - but he's just a paratrooper-in-training, so he only had to drop three inches - but still, that was probably enough), and plopped down in my seat just as one of the other moms said, "Been one of those days?"

"Yeah," I mumbled, as I looked down, only to realize that the "rodeo" t-shirt I'd put on for yard work was still my main attire. And, if you've ever been to a rodeo in the West, you know they're all sponsored by (say it with me!) COORS! Yeah, that's me - the frantic woman in the alcoholic beverage shirt at the youth activity. If you're ever down this way, I'll be easy to spot, so you can come say hi, or give me a wide berth. I'd understand, either way.

In relating the story to Zorak later that night, he pointed out that you don't usually get COORS this far east. That made me feel better, until I saw that the folks who printed the shirt must have had that in mind, because they made a point of writing, in block letters, "BEER" across the bottom of the picture. Oh, well. Anybody who'll be that offended by something like this would probably be even more offended by getting to know us better, anyway. So it's a good thing. I'll think of it as a friend-filtering device. If you take yourself *that* seriously, you don't want to know us better.

Oh, my. And then, to highlight the point. EmBaby is having animal crackers in milk for breakfast. She wanted them cracked. So while I'm cracking the little animal crackers into her precious little bowl, she's singing me a song, "You're crapping the animal crackers. Crapping the crackers. You're crapping the animal crackers, just for me!" And I'm trying very, very hard not to laugh like a 12 year-old boy. Some of the precious toddler words, I will miss - words like "kingcummer" for cucumber, "weepoh" for Webelos, "cammer" for camera, and "plantit" for planet. Those are so very precious and endearing. But I think it'll be a good thing when she gets a handle on the whole "ck" ending sound. A good thing, indeed.

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

No Title Today

Can't think of one. However, is there anything more relaxing than a canopy of Dogwood leaves?Saw the periodontist yesterday. He said the underlying tooth is surprisingly intact, structurally, and thinks a new crown can be reset on it. He referred me to a new dentist when I expressed my concerns with the one who had originally referred me to the perio. (The upside of getting a dental referral from a periodontist is that he sees the work of all the dentists around, and can steer you in a direction that may fit well with your needs! I *really* hope this pans out!) I showed him the concrete-like slab my last dentist put in, and he said this new guy does fantastic restorative work. Say a prayer, please? I go in today at 1:30.

I've accomplished diddly-squat around here, lately, other than treading water and barely keeping up with feeding and cleaning. This weekend, I'm locking the children outside with little satchels of snacks, bottles of water, and a GPS so that I can finish up:

* the couch (the book I mentioned last week did seem to help, at least with pointing out what an idiot I am, and where I've gone wrong thus far - so, that's good),

* the covers for the barstools (my initial plan hasn't worked so well - they're a PITB to get off to wash, and so, they don't get washed -- ew),

* hopefully the new curtains for our room (because the current blankets-on-nails motif is just soooo early "Broke Undergrad"),

* and curtain trim for EmBaby's room (she's had Thomas curtains this whole time -- not imperative to correct, but would be nice, I'm sure).

Hopefully, we can also borrow a tiller and get some seed planted, as well as put the two little hostas in the ground before they go into total shock and die back completely. I still have to go talk to the neighbors about keeping their chickens in check for a couple of weeks, so the seeds (both lawn and garden) can take root instead of becoming chicken feed. Not looking forward to that, but I think I've just made it bigger in my head than it needs to be. I *will* suck it up and take care of that before Saturday. (Hold me accountable!)

And, as you can see, Smidge is still into both baseball, and posing for pictures (he actually scrambled to get his glove when he saw me stalking him with the camera!)...

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

More?

Oh, man. Nobody warned us that Brindlee Mtn. is WAY. THE. HECK. OUT. THERE. Or, that it's atop an actual mountain. (I didn't know we even had mountains around here!) It took longer to get to James' game last night than it takes Zorak to get to work in the mornings! AND, since it was way the heck UP there, as well, although it was 81 at our place, it certainly wasn't 81 up there. We froze. We also didn't get home until ten.

The kids played hard last night. The final score was 23-4. I hate games like that, even when we're the ones with 23 runs (and we aren't always - our kids have had their share of spankings this season, as well). There are 11 other children who played hard, stayed up late, and still felt the disappointment of getting spanked on the field. We much prefer a close, well-matched game, for overall enjoyment factor. The team our guys played, though, had some players with serious heart. One kid got "cleated" - our guy slid into the base just as their guy reached down with the ball and, *ka-pow* cleats to the back of the hand. Yeouch. I can't believe he shook it off and stayed on the field! I'd have spent the rest of the game at the snack shack, trying to get free sno-cones "for my hand".

Gotta call the dentist today. Last night one of my crowns fell prey to a killer grilled cheese sandwich. *sigh* Go figure, it's the one I paid almost $2000 for in Arizona. The one I paid $350 for in Mexico is still standing strong. Gah, I'm so over the dental issues.

Today, also, we've got to straighten the wall in the barn garden, and finish baiting the fire ant mounds. Thrills-a-minute this week, folks! Just wait til Thursday, when we sort underwear drawers! You won't believe what wild and crazy guys we are!

Ok, ok, now I'm just getting silly. I'm going to go. You have a great day. I'll post pictures tonight, or something. To make up for the lousy posting this week. Honest. :-)

Kiss those babies!
~Dy

Conversations and Tidbits

James: Will aphids bite?

Me: No, they're just irritating.

James: Oh. Ok-- uh, irritating, as in annoying? Or irritating as in, they will irritate your skin?

Me: Just annoying.

James: Well, that's good!

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We have decorative ivy climbing the new fence! It's pretty cool.
We have poison ivy climbing everything else. Not so cool.
We found earthworms.
We found fire ants.
We found a butterfly.
We found grubby, leggy, swarmy things. (I think it was a disturbed ant bed.)
So, in general, we're not making fantastic headway out there.
But it's not all bad, either.
But I am seriously done with the Mary Poppins attitude to landscaping today.

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James: I found a swarm of something in one of the bricks. They look like maggots, with legs. Like this. (Makes legs with his fingers sticking from his abdomen.) Can I touch it?

Me: (It's only 12:26, and I am SO done doing the yardwork-with-kids thing already.) Honey, if you find a brick swarming with anything, just leave it be.

James: (Not looking at me...) Like that?

Me: What?

James: Like that.

Me: Like... what?

James: Like that bee? (Points at a hovering bee on the porch.)

*sigh*

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EmBaby: Em 'a want 'a swing!

Me: (There's an empty swing right in front of her.) Well, ok, go swing.

EmBaby: Em 'a want 'a THAT swing. (The one her brother is in, of course.)

Me: Well, that one's in use, Baby. You can pick one of the other swings...

EmBaby: *bursts into tears*

Me: Well, Love, a fit won't get you what you want. If you need to throw this fit, you can do it in your room. If you want to swing, you need to stop with the fit.

EmBaby: *sniff* *sniff* OK. I all done. *sniff* Em 'a want 'a swing.

(What's the computer code for an endless loop? Yeah, insert that right about... here.)

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And the general MO of the day: don't think about what you do before you do it.

EmBaby comes to me, crying that John bonked her in the head with a dirt clod.

Gah. We have discussed this, I don't know how many times. We. Do. Not. Throw. Dirt. Period. (But particularly not at people.)

Me: JOHN! Did you throw dirt clods?

John: (in his most humble, I really don't want to be telling the truth right now, voice) Yes.

Me: Don't we have some kind of guideline about that?

John: Don't do it.

James: Um, Mom. I was part of that. You know how when you throw dirt clods and they come apart due to the... something-something... friction and gravity... mumble-something... time-space continuum... average PSI... inhalation... (OK, I wasn't paying attention - his explanations get overly involved and unnecessarily exhausting. I've taken to standing there, looking stern until his lips stop moving and he makes eye contact again. So shoot me. But I did give him immediate credit for 'fessing up to his part in it before I even had to ask.)

Basically, they were playing some kind of game wherein James rides his bike and John tries to hit him with dirt clods as he goes by. Aside from the fact that I think that's a weird thing to play, I have other problems with it. The thing about moving targets, of course, being that they often bring into the line of fire non-moving, non-targets. And when you're seven, it's not like your aim is the greatest.

So, I ran through my mental parenting rubric:

Told the truth the first time, +5 pts.
...without me reminding him of the importance of doing so. +10 pts.
Spotted the error in their thinking process, +3 pts.
...without me having to point it out. +10 pts.
Sibling coughed up a truthful inclusion confession on his own, +20 pts.
Both parties showed concern (ok, some awareness) that their actions, however unintentional, had negatively affected someone else. +50 pts. (been workin' on that one for a while!)

So it's not 100% (that would be reserved for "thought things through before doing them" - it will be a Very Happy Day when that happens!) But it's not bad for a 7yo and a 9yo. I couldn't really justify leaping into Lecture Land. They handled it well. I'm proud of them.

But I'm still done doing the yardwork-with-kids thing. :-P

That's why I'm in here, blogging, under the pretext of figuring out what to fix for lunch.

ONE PIER!

That's all that's left to pour! There's one support post up, and Zorak plans to hit Lowe's on the way home tomorrow for ledger board/band board, and columns! WOOT!!

I wish my progress was as exciting. It wasn't. We sifted the closets. Had the boys try on *everything* in there. Took out the winter garb, put it in a pile. Took out things that don't fit, put them in a pile. Set aside the things that are not in good repair any longer, put 'em in a pile. Took out things they just don't wear, put those... in a bag. (The piles were starting to irritate all of us at that point.) The clutter sneaks up on me, season after season. Thank heaven for Spring Cleaning, no?

Smidge, EmBaby and I went to the feed store to see about buying a Croton (thanks, Melora - that's just what it was!!), but they don't have a supplier for them. We'll have to go back to the fruit stand for those. We bought two hostas, instead, and they're sitting out front, waiting for to the muse to move and show Zorak and I where, exactly, to put the holes.

Saturday was a whirlwind of activity and stoopid Home Depot employees. But it was a good day, other than that. So, all-in-all, all is well. I'm just too pooped to write tonight, and have too many thoughts bumping into each other to make any of them make sense individually.