A Day in the Life of Shoes: Adventure Abounds

Giving Thanks

2011-11-24T22:13:00.001-07:00

Life is full of trials, hurt and anguish of all sorts. Despite those hurts, there is so very much to be thankful for.

Today I am thankful for gluten free/dairy free recipes that turned out so well. This was the best Thanksgiving meal I've had in at least three years!

My children are amazing people and I'm so thankful for the time I get with them.

My husband is my favorite person in the world. I am thankful for his dedication to our family and his devotion to me.

I am stunned that my church leaves the doors unlocked during the day, enabling anyone to walk in and spend a few precious moments with Jesus. I am thankful that my son babysat yesterday so I could run errands and drop by to bask in the Lord's presence for a few minutes.

I hope today has been special for you as well.

Oh, To Be Smarter Than The Technology!

2011-06-26T13:44:00.001-06:00

All that effort to figure out how to post brilliant, witty blog messages and what happens? I forget how to send the dratted text.

This is a test of the mobile blog system

2011-06-08T15:35:00.000-06:00

This is only a test.

A Few of My Favorite Things

2011-01-24T20:13:00.002-07:00

My iPod. Read that: my fully charged, updated by my family (not me!), iPod.

Books.

Candles.

Kids giggling, even (or especially) when they're planning mischief.

Music.

Iced tea.

Smiles.

Flip flops. (You knew that had to be there.)

Shut UP!

2011-01-23T16:18:00.002-07:00

Today's task: read through the Harmony manuscript as it stands thus far -- NO editing allowed. The Internal Editor needs to take a break and just sit quietly in the background. The story is nowhere near finished -- characters still need defining (some of them are elusive and haven't told me much about themselves), scenes still need to be written, some characters have to die (oh, you know how I love conflict - gulp!). It's just not ready for editing. But I haven't written a word since the end of November and I can honestly say that I can't remember what's happened so far.

So I started reading in earnest as my muffins were baking this morning. And that obnoxious voice piped up at the first typo. I shushed her.

At lunch I choked on my salad as I read an amusing bit. One character tried to figure out a mystery and ran off, but in the next paragraph was standing still and tying his hair back. The Editor started to say something about how ridiculous... and I told her to shut it.

Internal criticism is unproductive. It is not the same thing as thinking critically about a mystery or a challenge. Internal criticism just tears at the fabric of confidence. It's so hard to tune out the nagging, but tune it out I must.

Hey, Internal Know-it-all Editor: Shut up, already! Just let me read and write this in peace. You'll get your turn in a few weeks.

Procrastination is a Fancy Word for Fear

2011-01-22T15:44:00.002-07:00

I just printed out 97 pages of a manuscript I started in November. The NaNoWriMo is a fun project to tackle. If you like writing, give it a whirl sometime. On October 31st at about 9pm, I decided that the NaNo was my shiny object for the month. (Shiny object = distraction, for those who never have any problem focusing.) The insane goal is to write 1,667 words per day, every day, during November. I ended up around 41,000 words (not too shabby for a working, homeschooling mom), but haven't written a single word on the project since November 30th. Why?

I have one word: fear.

Fear of success. Fear of failure. Fear that "there just isn't enough time for writing right now." Fear of conflict (in my everyday life, I despise conflict), which you simply must have for a good story. Fear that I'll just be interrupted. (Oh, that's not really a fear. It's a statement of fact. I can't even speak a full sentence without at least three interruptions.) So... I just put it off. There will be more time to write on Saturday. I'll get a couple hours in after the littles get put to bed. I'll get up early (go ahead... just laugh). There's always something in the way of writing.

No matter what excuse I throw out, though, the root of the problem is one I've long dealt with and have yet to master: I procrastinate because, while I have great intentions, I am afraid that everyone will find out that I am a complete flake and a fraud.

The carefree summer girl who has cute nail polish and snazzy flipflops is not afraid! Remember her? I've written about her before. Ms. Sharkbait, on the other hand, is afraid of all kinds of things. I'm all about the summer girl now. Time to tie the fear to the surfboard and send it out to sea. Time to get busy doing things instead of worrying about them.

All 97 pages are sitting right here next to me. Time to read them, let the story start percolating in my mind again. Time to let those characters finish telling me who they are so I can tell their story the right way. I procrastinated yesterday and said, "tomorrow...." Today is yesterday's tomorrow.

What are YOU going to do?

How Do They Know This Stuff?

2011-01-21T17:11:00.002-07:00

Today my four year old informed her six year old brother:

There is no "i" in the word "team."

Now this is perfectly true, both in terms of spelling and sentiment, but I am at a loss as to just how she knows this. She can't spell. In fact, I don't think she could identify the letter "i" with any reliability whatsoever.

Whoever says the kids aren't learning something while staring at the electronic babysitter has apparently not made said device a part of their household "team."

It's Tough to Get Back Into the Swing of Things

2011-01-19T19:51:00.003-07:00

What's a girl to do when the tsunami known as Life swells up underneath her? Grab a surfboard and ride it out, baby! Of course, about the time that the swell towers above the beachfront buildings, threatening everything in its path, this girl realizes something of rather significant import: she doesn't know how to surf. She also realizes that she's afraid of sharks and begins to question the sanity of being out on the ocean in the first place. And then, she wakes up.

Please tell me I'm not the only one who has these moments.

I noticed something about my tsunami-like life and the shoes I wear in it -- I've reverted to wearing tennis shoes 99% of the time. The other 1% appears to be spent in socks. It's been a little chilly here, for starters. Also, while Wonder Boy has grown and matured, he hasn't outgrown his uncanny ability to step on me. I like having 10 toes and I like them unbroken -- Things One and Two both have broken toes over the past couple years and I don't want to join the Been There, Done That ranks. So for now, tennies rule.

The tennies also indicate a psychological shift from carefree-summer-mom/girl to must-be-responsible-and-save-the-world-mom/girl. Let me just say that the former is kind of fun to be around and the latter is... well... not. The summer girl wears flip-flops and remembers to wear fun nail polish on her toes -- she rides that tsunami like a pro. That other one? Oh, not only is she not fun to be around, she's shark bait. Personally I'm ready to hogtie her to the surfboard, break a bottle of bubbly over the bow and send her off to sea without a life vest.

Time to find that summer girl.

Kindergarten

2010-08-10T22:01:00.002-06:00

It's a big change for us. Preschool is over, Kindergarten is here! Wonder Boy successfully navigated his second day today and just beamed as he paced the living room and retold the story of Jack & Jill with his freshly pasted puppets.

I've been thinking about this blog and it's original purpose -- to keep me from losing my grip on reality while somehow bringing up my children -- and I see it's still quite necessary. I was happier when blogging before. I looked for humor in my days, purpose in my suffering, and always looked left-right-left before crossing streets and bike lanes. I miss that.

It's time to capture the miles in my shoes again. Let the Adventure begin!

Glutton for Punishment (Or Gluten for Punishment?)

2010-01-21T16:14:00.001-07:00

Full on gluten cooking happened here today. I did it for and with my 9yo. It's killing me. I can smell the @#$@# cookies cooling. It's a very good thing that I fear what dairy and gluten together can do to me... because without that, I'd have eaten half the pan of cookies by now.

An Amazing Day in Arizona

2010-01-21T13:45:00.001-07:00

1 - I has been raining for days. This is amazing in AZ.

2 - I actually walked out into the garage and found, without searching, the only umbrella we own.

3 - We own an umbrella.

All of these are very strange and amazing in their own right. To have all three coincide? Freaky.

Lost at Home

2009-12-05T10:27:00.002-07:00

Is it possible to become so immersed in one's momotony (sorry for the very lame pun - I'm decaffeinated this morning) that all sense of purpose and direction are lost, even in the living room? Surely I am not the only mom who can stand in the living room completely baffled about what she was going to do next.

This has been on my mind, what's left of it anyway, for at least 3 minutes. I realized that I am having problems with momotony through several key incidents:

1) I am still searching my brain cell for the word that describes the blanket I used last night. I can't remember what it's called - it's warm, fuzzy and not flannel. It's not velour, nor is it .... AH!!!! It's fleece! It just came to me!!! I've been trying to recall the word "fleece" since about 8:30 this morning. The remembering of this lovely, fuzzy word is another reminder that I've lost my direction. What happened to that fabulous memory of mine? I can remember old addresses and phone numbers but I can't remember what fleece is?

2) As I covered my finally-producing-pepper plants to protect them from frost last night, it occurred to me that I can (and do) go days without going outside for more than 30 seconds. Putting Wonder Boy on and off the bus doesn't really count in my book. I also thought about the fact that some weeks I do not drive - at all. (Read that: I don't leave my house. And I'm not a shut in.)

3) Looking at the same walls and the same toys and dealing with the same tasks every single day, day in and day out, has become so routine that I no longer see a lot of what needs doing. There's a spark missing many days and what should be joyous isn't. I'm limited by too many choices and no choices at all.

4) We decided to have a yard sale. Today. Except we didn't do it. Between work, strep throat, doctor appointments, school, dishes, and all the other momotony, it just got forgotten. A lot of things get forgotten. Sometimes, I forget me, and not in the selfless-wrapped-up-in-my-vocation way. I just forget to pay attention to me.

I was going somewhere with this. Hang on while I walk back to the living room, where I was when I thought of it (whatever "it" is)... maybe it'll come to me.

How a Couple Watches a Western

2009-09-09T10:08:00.002-06:00

Sometimes I forget that women and men are inherently different. No, I'm not talking about parts and builds - trust me, I noticed that a long time ago. I'm referring to that whole "Venus/Mars" thing - the being from different universes at times. Pastor TD Jakes was in town once and gave a talk about how women yammer on about how many coupons they use and what colors they were, whereas men just want to know the total on the receipt. We laughed about that and have used "what color was the coupon" as a signal that we aren't on the same page in a conversation.

Now you have to understand that one of the Hallmarks of the relationship between the Fearless Leader and me is communication. We talk a lot and always have. Early in our dating, the Fearless Leader worried that he'd bored me out of another date by taking me to a local grocery store's parking lot to chat. (Little did he know at the time, I went home to Mama and gushed on about how perfect this guy was.) Sure, we have our comical, stereotypical email moments: I send an email 3 paragraphs long, riddled with questions only to receive a reply consisting of the word "no" or "yes." Instant messages are similar. Goodness... even the way we type is consistent with that pattern. But overall, we really do talk a lot, often late into the night.

That brings me to last night. We decided to throw in a movie - after searching for 15 minutes through the dvds, we settled on a Western. We couldn't remember which one we hadn't seen yet, so we tossed in The Long Riders. As soon as it was in, I knew we'd seen it - but it had been long enough that not all the parts were coming to mind before they happened. After a while, we get to a knife-fight scene - a knife-fight scene, which I remind you, we have seen before. (Here's where the difference between genders pops up.) I, still watching the fight, said to our Fearless Leader that I had signed up for a coupon service and that I'm trying to decide on how to cheaply get a few newspapers for coupons. He just looked at me and asked something about what colors the coupons were. (Yes, this time the conversation actually was about coupons! Oh, the irony!) Then I think he asked if I was kidding - this was the knife-fight scene!

The whole thing just made me laugh. I knew I'd blog about it. If anyone asks about his evening, I'm betting he says, "We watched a Western."

Lazy Morning Musings

2009-08-15T13:05:00.002-06:00

1. If you have something important or fun to do, at least one child will wake up the night before and interrupt your rest.

2. If your child finally gets the hang of potty training, you will run out of m&m's at the wrong moment.

3. Wonder Boy told his teacher that he was not a big brother - he is a medium brother.

4. Little girls wearing piggy pajamas don't necessarily like being called Miss Piggy.

5. Two gluten free chocolate muffins may taste excellent, but they don't give a whole lot of energy for the day.

6. Always wear clean underwear. (<--- I'm a mom. I have to say that.)

Ignatian Methods in Homeschooling

2009-07-16T23:25:00.003-06:00

It occurred to my very tired brain that someone just might need a boost in their homeschool, a fresh idea. Old is the new... new. Here's an old idea to consider: Ignatian education. It's fabulous. It stresses self-activity and mastery of content. It's not easy, that's for sure... but it does feel very natural.

A fantastic curriculum based on Ignatian principles can be found at Kolbe Academy. For anyone who wants to know a little more about Ignatian methods, this site has well written ideas and summaries from a homeschooling mom who really knows her stuff.

I'd love to make a better case for Ignatian education, but honestly I can't this evening. My lone brain cell is screaming for sleep. It's been a day of starting to do one thing, forgetting what I was doing, then starting something else and forgetting about that as well. Every room I walk displays the aftermath of my Reign of Confusion: pullups on the bread counter, a ball of lint on the piano, laundry left in the dryer, something resembling lunch in the dining room corner. As I pick up my daily disasters, I pray that my efforts were enough today: I told the kids what I hoped they'd learn today, I prayed with them, I listened to their efforts and tried to guide them in their studies. Tomorrow we'll start anew and I'll ask what they remember from today, I'll tell them what the learning goal is, we'll pray, and on we'll go.

A Boy and a Quart of Strawberries

2009-07-15T11:38:00.003-06:00

There will probably be a story about this later. For now... the 8yo ate a quart of strawberries. Alone. Read that: without help. (Ok. I admit I cut one strawberry up and put it in Wonder Boy's yogurt. I also sacrificed another for the Ailing Miss M - she ate two bites and called it done.)

Now, while I am quite happy to have children that like fresh fruit and are satisfied with said fruit as the sole snack option, I am a bit concerned when they eat a hefty quantity. Fruit is a food of movement, ya know? I haven't been to Costco lately. I'm not sure my t.p. supplies are adequate.

I should put Costco on my "to do" list.

Keeping Promises

2009-07-14T16:17:00.003-06:00

It's important to keep promises, especially the ones you make to yourself. You either build yourself up by being trustworthy or you tear yourself down by not being so. You can fool other people. You can make it look like you did a bang up job when you know you cut more corners than a poorly trained carpenter. You can over-commit and look like the person who does it all for everyone. But YOU know if you keep your promises. You know when you don't.

We don't tend to like people who fail time after time to keep promises. Failing ourselves leads to self-hate. And if we are hating ourselves, we cannot love God. How, if we are filled with self-loathing and hatred, can we fulfill the greatest commandments? (So you don't have to look it up: Mt. 22:37-40 he said to him, "you shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the greatest and the first commandment. The second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. The whole law and the prophets depend on these two commandments.") Someone who is full of hate cannot truly love and someone full of self-hatred cannot love their neighbor. There's also that pesky business of what we do to the least of our brethren (aka neighbors), we've done unto Jesus. If you are so small, dare I say "the least," and you hate yourself, have you not hated Jesus Himself?

Something to ponder today. What will you promise yourself today. Make it something small and something that you WILL do. Will you get up on time for a week instead of hitting the snooze button? Will you plan and cook one week's worth of dinners? Will you read just one story to your kids every day for two weeks, no matter how busy you seem to be? Will you grade just one paper every day for a week? Will you open every piece of mail that comes in your house today? It doesn't have to be "organize a new food pantry for the homeless" huge... it just needs to be something you promise and deliver to yourself. If you do that, you've done it for Jesus.

It's Considered Torture in Some Places

2009-07-02T14:10:00.002-06:00

Isolation

We do it to our kids (read that: Time Out).

We do it to each other (read that: The Silent Treatment).

We do it to ourselves (read that: Hide in Work, Hide Online, Hide in Hobbies, Hide in Busyness).

The truth is, we need each other. No one is sufficient to themselves. But where are we hiding our real selves? Are we hiding behind doctrine? Are we hiding behind our children? Are we hiding behind our work? Are we building walls out of those things and people to keep the world out of our hearts?

Sometimes a time apart is good and necessary. Children need to learn that hurting others separates them from the community they need. Heck, I can think of quite a few adults who need to learn this. Silent retreats are good for the soul, too. Taking care of our obligations is right and good. But there comes a point when isolation becomes Isolation and renders our interiors desolate.

Let's not go there.

Fantastic Gluten Free Cookbook

2009-06-22T19:47:00.003-06:00

I've now made several recipes from this book. It took awhile to find sorghum flour - I searched through at least six groceries stores before finding one that carried it.

In any case, I made some chocolate chocolate chip muffins that were divine. My camera card was missing in action thanks to the family ebayers, so thus far I have no pictures of them. I can tell you that the muffins had a wonderful consistency, had a moist crumb, and fantastically high crowns. I made the mistake of letting my kids try them. The remaining muffins are now hidden in a secret location requiring a password, keys and a retinal scan.

Tonight's dinner was a turkey tetrazzini (or however you spell it). I used some stunted bell peppers from my pathetic little garden, homemade gluten free bread crumbs (great way to use up those dumb little heels of gf bread) and some homemade turkey broth. Once again, the family loved it and there was much rejoicing. The adults in the household are looking forward to a lunch of leftovers tomorrow.

After the littles are in bed, I intend to attemp some cookies. I can't imagine they'll go wrong.

Happy eating!

Why I've Been MIA

2009-06-22T16:58:00.002-06:00

In short: my love of the internet.

It's not always a healthy love, of that I am sure. Too much time surfing and too little time thinking and living makes for a cranky pair of Shoes.

The remedy: more living, more blogging (which means more living... because what else is there to blog about?), more doing, more reading, more baking, more cooking, more... more... MORE!

Gluten Free Pocket Sandwich

2009-04-23T15:04:00.003-06:00

Oh, this was GOOD. I am in love with Chebe bread. The all purpose mix makes some decent rolls and breadsticks, as well as a good thin-crust pizza. I tried making calzones yesterday. Yum! I will definitely spend a Saturday baking up a bunch of these to have on hand.

Today's calzones were pepperoni and soy cheese with very light sauce and I used the foccacia mix. I'm not big on sauce and was concerned that they'd get soggy. I made them yesterday, ate one, and froze the rest. Today I pulled out a frozen calzone, popped it (covered with foil) in a 350 degree oven for 30 minutes and had a fabulous lunch.

Next time, I think I'll try the all purpose and foccacia mixes and make: more pizza calzones, spinach & chicken pockets, philly steak & cheese pockets, Meditteranean veggie pockets. It would totally be worth baking up a bunch of these and freezing. I'm always eating on the go. Plus these would be easy to load up with veggies, thereby helping meet that daily allotment.

I had to fend off the children. They were that good. :)

Gluten Free Heaven, Part II

2009-04-18T15:54:00.002-06:00

If you need gluten free baked goods, absolutely check out Gluten Free Creations here in Phoenix. They ship all over, too! I went to a tasting event today and all I can say is WOW! Bread that tastes like bread. Cookies that are to die for... ok, maybe not die, but you'd definitely have to hide them from the non-gluten-free people in your house and/or threaten them with bodily harm if they went near them.

Stretching the Dollar

2009-04-08T18:05:00.002-06:00

Ok. This is so simple, I can't believe I never thought of it. I don't have time to make spaghetti sauce sometimes and I buy the jarred stuff. Tonight pizza is on the menu and I only had about 1/3 of a jar of sauce left. The thought occurred to me to open a little can of plain tomato sauce and add it to the jarred spaghetti sauce - score one for me! So my $2.50 jar of spaghetti sauce just got a $.25 addition and gave us a couple more meals. Woot!

GF Tortillas - The First Attempts

2009-04-07T16:20:00.003-06:00

Eh. I made the first batch with a flour mix containing coconut flour and they were much too... sweet and coconutty. Oh, I ate them, make no mistake about it, but I won't make them this way again.

This batch was better... but still not quite right. They're a bit denser than I'd like, they crack a little (but not nearly as much as corn tortillas do), but they'll suffice as a vehicle for getting yummy fillings into my hungry mouth. My 8yo said that if he couldn't have real tortillas, he would totally eat these... not exactly the endorsement I am looking for, but not bad for the beginning of the GF journey.

Perpetually Behind

2009-04-06T13:15:00.002-06:00

Who is the patron saint of the Perpetually Behind? I need to have a talk with him/her.

Chores, laundry, grading, teaching, cooking, checkbook, bills, chores, laundry, grading, teaching, cooking, checkbook, bills... it goes on and on and on. I get caught up on one and all the rest falls behind. You'd think that with me on my little Hamster Wheel of Life, I would not fit in size 16 jeans. The injustice of it all!

Which shoes should I wear today? Not the flip flops... again.

Yum! I Am Saved!

2009-04-03T11:18:00.003-06:00

Cookies! I have cookies! Glorious, wonderful cookies!

I followed the recipe over at Flour Arrangements with only a couple minor substitutions (1- I don't have millet flour... yet; and 2- I can't have dairy, so used almond milk) and these cookies are heavenly.

Still need to tackle the bread issue.

My Dual Life

2009-04-03T09:22:00.002-06:00

Maybe I just have multiple personalities? Somehow I've been blogging here as the Mominator... posting around as momtimesfour... and also as Shoes. They all fit (the names... not just the shoes).

Maybe I need an overhaul? A quick rinse and spin on delicate? A good shining? (Oh... now there's a scary movie: SHOES: The Shining!)

Adventures in Gluten Free Living Begin

2009-04-02T23:11:00.002-06:00

Oh My Goodness! I had no idea baking could be... difficult.

I'm a pretty good cook. Recipes are a guide, not a precise rulebook to follow. I'm also a pretty good baker. My kolach impresses my mother-in-law (and she tells me so, too). I was working on "the perfect loaf of bread" awhile ago and looking forward to baking more again. (I find it hard to bake when I have babies/early toddlers.) I have never found cooking or baking to be the least bit intimidating or hard. Rarely have I turned out something inedible or totally "off" from what I intended to create. When people have exclaimed how hard baking is or waxed on about how precise one must be, I've scratched my head in wonder.

Until now.

This past weekend I decided to go gluten free in an effort to deal with health issues. I'd been putting it off because it's so drastic, so all-encompassing. But I'd had enough and was desperate to try.

Who knew baking was so... chemical... complex... and precise? Never, I mean NEVER, have I had to carefully pack, level or weigh anything when baking with wheat flour. But gf flours are... how did my friend put it... weird. That's it. They're WEIRD. Gritty, scratchy, powdery, stiff... unnatural. The resulting concoctions I've turned out this week are even weirder - tortillas that look like tortillas but taste like I don't even know what; pizza that tasted like an eggy savory German pancake (don't even ask... I don't understand... it was edible as long as I didn't pretend it was pizza); and now chocolate chip cookies that taste more like pecan sandies (which I like, thank goodness, but Toll House they ain't).

This is going to be interesting.

Sprouts!

2009-03-20T11:26:00.002-06:00

I've been busy, busy, busy. Mostly with taxes and schooling. However I decided to branch out a little and start gardening. I stress the word "little."

I built several self-contained watering gardens and planted peppers, tomatoes, carrots and onions. The peppers were from starter plants, but everything we started as seeds. We've got sprouts!!! The kids are really excited and we keep checking everyday to see how much new green we see. Had I been an ambitious nerd, I would have remembered to take pictures. Instead, I was a procrastinating and overwhelmed nerd and just wish I had taken pictures. Oh, well.

Chicken Little Knew a Thing or Two

2009-02-22T10:09:00.002-07:00

The news these days is fairly dismal. It's hard to know what to expect. Will we have a job? Will we be able to find work enough to pay the bills? Will we lose our home? What will we eat? What's going on? When will this get better? Can it get better? What does it mean? Can you imagine what the families on the borders of the crumbling Roman Empire felt when barbarians first started to infiltrate that which had previously been so solid? What about Medieval times? Or how about the countless families, towns and countries caught up in wars over the centuries? The Great Depression? Are we really any different?

I sure don't have the answers, but I know the One who does. And I know that countless generations before us have asked the same questions. Over and over in my mind I have found myself clinging to the Lord's Prayer in a new light. "Give us this day our daily bread..." has new meaning. It isn't just about the bread. It's about clinging to the Lord's grace today - and acknowledging that we need Him. It's about focusing on today's responsibilities and joys, and leaving the uncertainty of tomorrow well enough alone. After all if we are blessed with another dawn, God will be there. Our daily bread is about the here and now - the people, the chores, the smiles, the heartaches, every breath.

I suspect the coming months will hold a great deal of change for many of us. How will we greet and accept the changes? Will we pull together as a nation? As a people of God? As families? My prayer for my family and yours is that God will give you the daily bread appropriate to the day.

Dusting Off the Keyboard

2009-01-22T21:13:00.002-07:00

::cough:: ::sputter::

I found it! I found the keyboard! It was buried here. Right here ---> no, over here, under the pile of Christmas cards, the iPod charger, various Lego pieces and preschool art. Cool! I can blog again.

Feast of the Holy Family

2008-12-29T16:07:00.002-07:00

Yesterday there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth on the way to Mass. It occurred to me that the devil absolutely hates it when families go to worship Our Lord together. He tries every underhanded trick in the book to trip families up - arguing over socks, where lost shoes are, who owes who money, why didn't so and so grab whathisbucket a jacket, and so on - anything to get each person's mind focused on anything other than the majesty, grace and mercy of the Lord. Our family sure isn't immune.

How interesting it was to discover that yesterday was the Feast of the Holy Family. Every reading spoke to each family member about our duty to one another, the promise that honoring our parents holds, the kind of love we ought to have for one another, and the fact that all of our neighbors are indeed included in that family. How very interesting and enlightening.

A Few Gems

2008-11-25T14:04:00.002-07:00

"God built me."
-Wonder Boy, while sitting on the potty

"I don't want to scream at the top of my lungs."
-The Boy Who Must Make Noise At All Times, while singing... at the top of his lungs, in the car

"Do you want Ironman?"
-The Firstborn, while flying The Youngest around in circles in the living room a la Ironman style

"Where's my caffeine?"
-Mominator, while stumbling through the kitchen, rummaging through the empty tea cupboard

Supersize Me

2008-11-09T23:17:00.002-07:00

I just got done watching Supersize Me for the second time. Ick. Ick. Ick. I have some thoughts running through my head about the connection between mandatory schooling, the nanny state mentality, the fact that as a nation we don't compete well internationally in the sciences or mathematics, and lack of physical activity/education. It's a little late to take those thoughts too far tonight... but I'll have something to say soon about them.

Let's just say that we'll be avoiding ChickFilA tomorrow after park day.

A Little Love Goes A Long Way

2008-11-05T18:15:00.003-07:00

The day before yesterday, WB was sitting at breakfast and dropped his spoon suddenly. He reached over to the Noisy One and proclaimed that the Noisy One is his best friend. It floored me. For starters, I didn't know he understood the concept of a best friend. And he claimed his brother as that friend. This evening the Noisy One told me that WB has reiterated that fact.

Friends. What would we do without them? Because of a dear friend of mine, I have been recently very encouraged in my homeschooling efforts. Her support in helping me find a better way to serve my children led me to choose a path I have eschewed in the past - a path I am so excited to travel. She has also been an encouragement to get more involved in issues I am passionate about.

Our nation has been through the wringer. In real life and online I've watched some really ugly things in recent months - things that make me weep. We don't have to claim each other as best friend or dear friend, but we do have to find a way to live with each other. We are siblings, spouses, neighbors, children, parents, crazy yahoos on the internet... we are Americans. And as Americans we must get our priorities straight and learn true charity and humility. We are doomed if we do not learn this.

My prayers tonight are for my children to know, love and serve God in this life to be happy with Him in the next. They are for thanksgiving that our nation has come a little closer to being color blind. They are for my friends who have wounded each other. They are for healing of colds, recovery from surgery, and for our nation to learn valuable lessons. They are for you. May the Lord bless you and keep you.

Just Do It

2008-11-04T10:33:00.002-07:00

This is the obligatory "get out and vote" post for the day.

Just. Go. Do. It. Now.

This is important. Our country is a grand experiment, a gift to the people. The funny thing about experiments, in my recent homeschooling experience, is that they need to be monitored or else they have a tendency to blow up in your face. The interesting thing about gifts is they need to be acknowledged to mean anything.

It doesn't matter how inconvenient it is, how sick you are, how many times you were up with the baby last night, or if it means cutting lunch short. It doesn't matter if it means getting take out for dinner or eating an hour later than usual. It doesn't matter that your favorite show will be pre-empted this evening. If you can't be bothered to vote, you lose your voice by your own choosing. Stuff happens, but you can move mountains to get to the polls.

Please. Use your voice today. Make your choice known. Be the vibrant American you were born to be today.

A Little Post Op Blogging

2008-11-02T13:06:00.002-07:00

Only a little. I've now got a fun case of vertigo going and typing is not the wonderful experience it usually is. Plus there seem to be two of every letter and it gets downright confusing.

Let's just say that morphine and vicodin are not my "happy drugs." No, no they are not. Most decidedly. My routine outpatient procedure went well... I think the right half of my thyroid was the size of a golf ball. It's funny but even with the pain from healing, I can tell a big difference in swallowing. It's an odd thing to realize that your healing, post op swollen neck is less swollen than before surgery in the first place. Weird.

Back to the drugs. Did you know that morphine lowers your blood pressure? Yeah. It does. I now have a history of "low pressure with anesthesia and morphine" issues to report in the case of future procedures. It's a darned good thing the savvy folks in recovery decided I wasn't ready to go home Wednesday night. It would have been ugly. The next morning started with a little more morphine because there was no way I could swallow the horse pills the nurse showed up with. Um... morphine is not my bag. I got through the morning with my eyes mostly shut. I can't say the vicodin was much better when I finally got to graduate to that. More loopiness, nausea and double vision. All I could think was, "you mean there are people who do this on purpose??? Yuck!" I was a happy camper when my beloved ibuprofen did a decidedly better job than the vicodin on Friday.

When I finally got up the nerve to look at my incision, it was really odd. I kind of feel like the dude in ... um... oh, crud. I lost more brain cells. What is that movie? I can see the movie in my head and the title just won't show up on screen. Augh. Christopher Lambert... Sean Connery... big mean dude with safety pins holding his head on... immortal beings... there can be only one. Come ON. Work with me, people. AH! The Highlander!!! That's it! Whew. (Have I mentioned that the happy drugs have not made me happy? They do appear to have made me stupid.) So... what was I saying... ah... oh, right. Neck incision. Safety pins. ::shudder:: Actually, the site looks to be about 4 inches long and has stitches and surgical tape all over. I joked with the kids that I should be Nearly Headless Nick for Halloween. I petered out, though, and ended up watching Children of Dune while Our Fearless Leader took the troops trick or treating.

That's it. I'm done. I'm cooked for now and need more rest. I'll save my adventures in post op housecleaning for another day.

Surgery, Panic and You: A Cautionary Tale

2008-10-22T23:34:00.002-06:00

Scheduling surgery is a piece of cake, right? Unless you're me. I have to think of all kinds of things. Stupid things.

It makes perfect sense that I have been up at night for the better part of a week trying to figure out what to do with Things 1, 2, 3 & 4... I mean... they're my children. I'm supposed to know where they are, what they're doing and whom they're doing what with. And in my absence or medically induced coma, I'm still responsible for that.

And speaking of being responsible, who will drive me to this little procedure? Mom? Our Fearless Leader? Certainly not me, myself and I. Well... I could drive there, but they won't let me go home without a chaperone. Given my panicked and half-crazed mood of late, maybe I would actually be a better drive while still anesthetized? I guess we'll never know.

Things we'll never know, or need to think about... yeah. Um. Ladies? Have you ever had to schedule a surgery for anything other than a c-section? That's the only surgery I can think of that you wouldn't have to schedule around.... You know... the crazy aunt who seems to find you at nearly the same time 12 times a year? Yeah. That one. Do you know how hard it is to schedule around her schedule? Fun times. Fun times.

And what about once I get home (assuming I get to come home on the same day - and what if I don't?)... what will be for dinner? Who's gonna cook it? I'm fairly certain that if I can't drive, I shouldn't operate small appliances. (You have read my pancake story, have you not?) For the sake of all that's holy, I should not set foot in the kitchen within 24 hours of The Procedure - combustibles and consumables don't mix well with a drugged up housewife with a drain and stitches in her neck. Ewww.

I also made the mistake of googling The Procedure (specifically a thyroid lobectomy) - all I can say is no one should google anything before donating themselves to medical science. It is possible to know too much. I wonder if they have drugs to make me forget? Will my insurance cover them? Before or after the deductible?

What about the bills? Are they paid up? Have I done payroll yet? Is payroll the same week as The Procedure? Nevermind the fact that The Procedure is an outpatient surgery lasting 1.5 hours and I'll likely be home the same day... this stuff can wait! Or can it? Will I need to hire myself out as an Outpatient of the Evening to meet my deductible? What about my blog? What about my fora? What about picking up the mail? What if I die? (Did I mention this is routine outpatient surgery?) What if my vocal chords are damaged? (My kids might go for this one. In fact, they might pool their allowances together and pay the surgeon a little something under the table... Hm. I wonder if I've paid allowances recently?)

So many questions, so little sleep.

A New Look for A New Day

2008-10-21T12:44:00.003-06:00

Yeah. That's it. It's a new day, so I've put on some new colors. Actually I screwed up my source code and didn't save it. (Have I ever mentioned that I know just enough about HTML to be extremely dangerous?) Eh. It was time for a change. And like hair and dye, we can always try something new if this doesn't work out. Right?

Which reminds me of a recent bet with the 8yo. He was certain Our Fearless Leader was going to yell at him for something he'd done. Despite my assurances to the contrary, he wandered through his day certain of a verbal lashing. I promised him that if Our Fearless Leader did actually yell at him, I would dye my hair pink. I don't know that he believed me... but I really would have done it.

My hair is still a lovely, unnatural shade of brownish-red (or whatever color fancied the Gifted Hairdresser some weeks ago). Come to think of it, the Gifted Hairdresser would have been shocked (possibly even grieved and appalled) had I dyed my hair pink. Maybe I would have given her the honor of doing it? We'll never know.

Why People Don't Vote

2008-08-30T03:24:00.002-06:00

It has nothing to do with the candidates and how well-suited they are or how much experience they lack. It has nothing to do with proximity to polls or access to early voting ballots. It has nothing to do with arranging the day just perfectly so a ballot can be cast without dragging all the children to the polls for a community civics lesson.

It's all about the phone calls.

It's only going to get worse. There are still about 88 hours left until the polls close on Tuesday. At the rate of 3 "Vote for MEEEEEEeeeeeeee" pre-recorded phone calls an hour, one should expect another 264 pleas for votes. Have you cleared your voicemail lately? Are YOU ready for the onslaught? And really... does the pre-recorded message sneakily calling you from seven states away really persuade you to do anything other than rip the phone from the wall and chuck it in the recycle bin? (Can you throw a phone away in a recycle bin? Or does it have corrosive evil components that must be hand delivered to your town's annual Caustic Substance Collection? [And does anyone REALLY know how the Caustic Substances are disposed of when the Go-Green crowd has gone home for the day? Are the contents itemized? Or are they just chucked in the big dumpster behind City Hall? {I should call someone about this. But it's 2:30a.m. and I'll be busy doing something tomorrow... I wonder if I can record my question and...}])

Schedules and Sanity

2008-08-05T15:46:00.002-06:00

Schedules are required for maintaining a semblance of sanity. At least in OUR household they are. I just finished our tentative daily schedule for the coming school year. It always takes a month to work out the kinks, but it should serve quite well for the time being. Preschool is about to start up for the year, religion and sacrament prep classes, too. Oh, and let's not forget Scouts. And when will the baby nap?

All I can say is that I love Excel and I love that I can color code my charts. It makes the nerd in me giddy.

Diaper Covers and Little Girls

2008-08-04T17:41:00.003-06:00

Miss M is kiddo #4 - we've been around the block a few times with dirty diapers and have come to understand that diaper covers are non-negotiable with babies. Especially babies who like the sound of velcro in the morning. These days, diaper covers are tough to find. A brilliant friend of mine suggested using underwear a size or two larger than a baby would wear and it's worked great.

However...

Kid #4 has had the privilege of watching WB potty train. And what do we all do for newly trained kids? Buy them special undies, of course! WB now sports super cool Spiderman boxer briefs.

Guess who LOVES Spiderman?

Miss M has been carrying on for DAYS about "Man." She loves Man. She watches Man cartoons. She envies her brother's super cool undies. And today... today she tried to dress her Baby in Man undies, as well as herself. The giggling "no" I gave her was met with a shrieking fit.

Spiderman! My arch enemy? Could it be?

Another Project Done

2008-07-30T17:26:00.003-06:00

After 3 months, I have finally finished staining my shelves for the kitchen. I can prove it, too!

Ta da!!!

The Schedule

2008-07-29T21:50:00.005-06:00

After talking about it, I figured I should post a few pictures of the vertical picture schedule I made for Wonder Boy. It's similar to the one used in his preschool (lol, he laments that his home schedule is not blue like his school schedule).

There are about 12 boxes with velcro tabs on them. Each of the picture cards also has velcro so that they can be attached and arranged any way we need them. Oh - I laminated all of this for durability.

There is nothing funnier than to hear WB yell, "I doe deh ma dedoe," (I go check my schedule.) when we say it's time for the next thing. And yes, he lives for snack.

Farewell to Cable

2008-07-15T18:27:00.003-06:00

Cable viewing is having its last hoorah this afternoon. We're pulling the plug. Well, maybe not entirely pulling the plug - we still have dvd's and tapes. The cable channels, however, are history. We've been on the fence for months and the letter we received from the cable company was enough to help us decide to pick a greener pasture for the family. We've had a deal for basic cable for two years and now they'd like to bring us up to the same payment level as everyone who didn't know how to ask for More Basic Than Basic cable service... and to that end they were going to more than double the rate we pay.

I love Shark Week on Discovery, but not that much.

In the Kitchen - Sweet & Sour Meatballs

2008-07-10T19:12:00.001-06:00

Oh, man. This turned out really good. My mom used to make sweet and sour meatballs as an appetizer. I rarely make them because I never have time to do the meatballs and sauce from scratch... so I tweaked it a bit and came up with a great, complete meal. It's got a protein, a starch, a veggie and a fruit!

Premade meatballs (I don't measure exactly, but about 6 per person - today I used Schwan's)
1/4c vinegar
1 8oz can crushed pineapple (do NOT drain!)
1/2c brown sugar
1Tbsp ketchup
1Tbsp cornstarch & 1tsp salt mixed with 1/2c water
broccoli
rice

Get your favorite rice cooking (I like jasmine basmati). Get your broccoli ready to steam/cook. Thaw the meatballs in the microwave and get the sauce going.

Sauce: In a large skillet, put the vinegar, pineapple, brown sugar, ketchup and cornstarch/salt/water mixture. Bring it to a boil (stir constantly) and then simmer for 5 minutes. Once your meatballs are thawed and the sauce is thickened, put the meatballs in the sauce and stir to coat. Put a lid on and let it gently simmer while you finish the broccoli and rice.

My family doesn't like everything all mixed together, so I serve a bed of rice, a side of broccoli and a side of meatballs to everyone. For myself, I make the bed of rice and put the veggies and meatballs right on top. It was great! And for once I didn't feel guilty about forgetting fruit or veggies.

Now What?

2008-06-27T12:43:00.003-06:00

It's 11:40 a.m. and in the 4 hours we've been up we have:

Cleaned the bathrooms
Cleaned the kitchen sink
Cleaned the freezer
Thrown away leftovers that became science experiments in the fridge
Washed the walls downstairs
Dusted the living room
Dusted the children's rooms
Swept the porch
Worked on a vertical picture schedule for WB
Corrected schoolwork
Made up assignments
Played

Next is lunch... and then?

Life is so nice when everyone works together.

Please Take A Moment

2008-06-15T18:12:00.003-06:00

Take the next moment or two to hug your children. Really be in that moment when you do. There is so much hurt in the world and, unfortunately, we just can't spare them. Our children belong to the Lord and we only have them a short time. And for some, the time together is trek through a Valley of Darkness so dark, it's unimaginable to the rest of us.

And when you're done, please pray for the broken and hurting children that may be living right next door to you. Pray for their parents. Pray for the Lord's mercy and goodness to shine as though those children's lives depended on it.

What did I do???

2008-06-05T19:52:00.003-06:00

This is a special kind of Purgatory: Juggling the 3.5yo who stubbornly clings to PullUps and refuses to poop in the potty with the 19mo who refuses to let me put her in a diaper until she "peepee pahyees" even though she has no bladder control. He won't sit there long enough to go and she won't move until she does (which so far has been never).

Why? WHY???

[Not one minute after first posting this, Miss M came running to me screaming, "peepee pahyee!" Sure enough, she pee peed... on the floor. *sigh* Again, I ask you WHY!?]

Reasons A Babysitter Might Still Be In Order

2008-05-09T17:51:00.002-06:00

Items 1-3 are simply backstory. I keep wondering if my 13yo is capable of handling an emergency, especially one involving younger siblings. Don't get me wrong, he's a fabulous kid - they all are. But they are a challenge some days. Today would be one such day.

Reasons we still might need a sitter when a Parental Unit is not available:

1. One of the middle children (and no, I'm not suggesting Wonder Boy) might decide to lose his mind and become... hostile... toward all known life in the household.

2. Said child might earn enough X's on his behavior chart to warrant hard labor.

3. Inmate will have a tantrum about shoveling rock. When the suggestion is made that, since it is too hard to shovel the rock, he just bend over and pick up the rocks and toss them into the wheelbarrow, the inmate could declare "this consequence is stupid."

Here's the part that makes me think the older kids aren't ready to be trusted alone together. Emergencies do happen, after all:

4. While the Person In Charge is explaining to the remaining cherubs that the Inmate is serving his time out outside, crying and something resembling a scream might be heard. Still not entirely calm from dealing with the events leading to items 1-3 on this list, the Person In Charge must try to keep cool.

5. Grievously Injured Inmate might present a bloody foot and expect something resembling First Aid be performed. This requires the Person In Charge to calm the Grievously Injured Inmate, encourage him strongly not to wake his sleeping sister, and keep the other middle child calm as well. The wailing and bleeding will make this hard to do.

6. This is when it gets dicey. If the 13yo is the Person In Charge, he will have to leave the Grievously Injured Inmate soaking his foot in a tub of cold water and crying in search of medical supplies to perform First Aid. Ideally, he would dash up the stairs and locate the hydrogen peroxide, 2 clean washcloths, a bandage and antibiotic ointment, retrieve them and dash back to the Inmate's side. These are things that any responsible parent knows should be easily accessible, right? If the Parental Unit is the Person In Charge, she might delegate the gopher duties to the 13yo and tell him exactly where the supplies are located - she would then remain with the middle children and apply firm pressure to the Grievously Injured Inmate's toe. It seems fairly straightforward.

If the 13yo is the Person In Charge, he really couldn't have the luxury of not being able to find the First Aid supplies. Right? RIGHT?

Today the Parental Unit had to dash up the stairs, leaving the 13yo with the Grievously Injured Inmate. Lo and behold, there were the ointment and bandages! (I will give him partial credit for locating the peroxide... but only because he yelled down that there wasn't any and I yelled back that it was the giant brown bottle staring him in the face.) The Recently Paroled Inmate is now sporting a lovely bandage on his pinky toe and is milking his injury for all it's worth.

In light of today's episode, I just don't think they're ready for self-containment. Not yet.

So Many Observations, So Little Time

2008-04-22T09:41:00.003-06:00

I've learned quite a bit over these past few months. As you may guess by my lack of posting, my people have kept me busy. A little too busy. Sometimes I think the wrong kind of busy.

Take today for example: Our Fearless Leader and I were awakened by the pitter patter of little feet and the words, "poopy peepee pahyee ay-em." Please bear in mind that, despite our valiant efforts, Wonder Boy is not yet potty-trained. So, when the boy appeared in our room at the crack of dawn to tell us that he would like to poopy and peepee in the potty for m&m's, I had little choice but to drag my congested self out of bed and assist Wonder Boy in his effort. Nothing like m&m's for breakfast.

But then I found myself downstairs with three of the four children by 7:00 a.m. By 7:20 a.m., all four children had eaten breakfast or were in the process thereof. By 7:45 a.m. they were all dressed, Our Fearless Leader had left for work and I was already facing a mutiny. By 8:00 a.m. the thought that we had another hour to kill before we could load up for preschool dawned on me... that was when the chill of fear began to rise. Sure enough the two middle children had a shared time-out and a "save it for the gym" lecture for using each other as punching bags by 8:10 a.m. At 8:17 a.m. a second time-out was served by the 7yo for insubordination. I realized the recidivism rates are a bit high in this familial institution for my liking.

Somehow I managed to get both levels of the house vacuumed; the children got the dishes done, the bathroom sinks wiped out, and no one was tragically dismembered or the victim of an accidental, but permanent, death. Oh, wait. There was a ball pegging. That counts toward the recidivism rate, doesn't it?

The day looms large ahead. I am small. I am frightened. And I bring you back to the beginning of this post. I've learned a lot. I've learned that I am outnumbered, busy, and in desperate need of more sleep. I've also learned that I have to work on not unleashing my wrath simply because my people are acting like the unpolished people they are. I've learned that I am unpolished, too. If I ever learn what exactly to do about that, I'll let you know.

Paralyzed

2008-04-20T12:27:00.002-06:00

I have come to the realization that I am essentially paralyzed when WB is awake. I cannot use the bathroom, change over laundry, fill a glass with water, let alone accomplish a task like "declutter the master closet." It is simply not possible. The entire 12 hours that WB is awake must be spent with eyes glued to him, no exceptions.

He had a wonderful day yesterday. I was lulled into a false security. I attempted to load the washing machine.

I found WB on the driveway waiting for me to discover him. Lucky for me, Miss M decided to stand at the doorway with a stricken look rather than follow WB. He will be the author of his own doom, of this I am certain.

You make me do EVERYTHING!

2008-04-17T20:55:00.002-06:00

This is what my 7yo decided to whine about this evening. It was uttered with the utmost drama. Drama which was lost in the moment because I was changing out the garbage bag as he said it. The next moment was me throwing some trash in the recycle bin. The moment after that saw me moving into the living room to start putting the baby in pajamas.

Yes. That's right. You, the crabby 7yo standing idle in the kitchen, that's right. You are doing everything while I eat bon bons on the sofa.

Oy.

He Is Risen!

2008-03-23T09:14:00.002-06:00

Alleluia! Christ our Savior is risen!

My missing towel this morning was an annoyance. Miss M's dress, the one I've been waiting all winter to put her in, was too short. I worked until after midnight and was awakened by 6:30am to hear, "Mommy! Mommy!" from Miss M and WB. We have a busy day ahead...

And you know what? I am so very happy. I have towels to complain about. Miss M has another cute dress. I might just steal a nap later on and my family is together and whole. And the best news yet? Jesus Christ died and rose again. He really is our precious Savior.

Triple the Fun

2008-03-11T19:28:00.002-06:00

Why does making a triple batch of waffles equal quadruple cooking time? And why does it mean that I will have to wait until the littles go to bed before I will get to eat dinner?

Vacation 2008

2008-03-11T17:18:00.002-06:00

Here's what our vacation itinerary for 2008 look like:

February: oral surgery for Our Fearless Leader
March: fillings for Mominator
March: fillings for the Ham

I think we might have enough left in the bank to pay for the boat registration - we'll be spending the rest of our vacation time on the local lake fishing for dinner.

Common Sense

2008-03-09T13:16:00.003-06:00

Last week the 7yo was at work with Our Fearless Leader. A friend in the office suggested the 7yo might want to head into the lunch room because there was cake - the friend also wisely added that the boy should check with his father to be sure he was allowed such a thing (the friend is cautious about sugar with her own offspring). Our 7yo displayed his powers of common sense with this response:

I can eat anything... except for soap.

No one was sure why he said it... and he did dutifully check with Our Fearless Leader about the cake. When we asked about his reasoning for the soap part of the answer, he just looked at us as if we had suddenly sprouted a third eye and said:

No one can eat soap. It isn't food.

Yes. Yes, of course. Common sense. And it was at this point, I think, that he began to get the impression that he knows more than his parents.

Step Away From The Kitchen, And No One Will Get Hurt!

2008-01-26T11:15:00.000-07:00

Note to self: Do not attempt to cook breakfast, clear the table, fill a glass, or otherwise enter the kitchen if a full night's sleep has not been had.

This morning I had the bright idea to fix pancakes. We haven't had a hot breakfast in a couple of weeks and gobs of syrup on bread sounded delicious. I enjoy making pancakes from scratch, but thought it would be an excellent idea to triple my recipe and freeze any leftovers for a future rush-rush sort of day. This in an of itself is no big deal, as I double & freeze recipes all the time. Amidst the chaos of a 1 year old begging to "ee! ee! mi! mi!", a 3 year old begging for "e-oh," a 7 year old planted firmly in front of a computer playing Riven, and a barely conscious 12 year old draped across the sofa, I got busy in the kitchen. I measured, I counted out loud, I carefully moved my ingredients from the left side of my space (the "unused" side) to the right side (the "used, but better check" side), and I mixed. The griddle was hot, the cakes were poured and all was right with the world.

Until I served them. Our Fearless Leader grabbed a pancake and began to prepare it for the 1 year old. Now, being fearless, he knew that all pancakes must be tested (read that: Leader eats first and then slaves over a hot stove so Mominator can eat hot food, too). The look on his face as he insisted that I try a bite myself was pained. They were awful, much to my dismay. I will say here in my defense that I am a darned good cook. I can even make a good cup of coffee despite the fact that I never, ever drink the stuff. However, today's pancakes were eventually likened to the cooking experimentation of Lane's mom in the movie Better Off Dead. Do you remember the scene when the blob of dinner actually moves off the plate... by itself?

Ok, the batter didn't actually harm any of the children, but it did nearly foam out of the bowl. Why, you ask? In looking at the right side of my space, I realized my fatal error - baking soda. (For those not in the know, baking soda is not interchangeable with baking powder. I actually know this quite well and have my containers clearly marked with labels from my beloved label maker.) I had tripled my pancake batter with baking soda. I ran to the computer to look up substitutes in the hope of salvaging my visions of a hot breakfast dripping with syrup. I found a recommendation for using 2 parts cream of tartar to 1 part soda. Perfect! Except that I had now tried to bake at least 8 pancakes and the batter was obviously reduced in volume. I guesstimated at the cream of tartar, added it and began cooking again. I freely admit that I should have given up hope at the first pained expression on Our Fearless Leader's face, and he will likely now fashion a Breakfast War Story in which I am trying to poison him. He might be right. I don't think I'm mad at him for any reason, but the batter possibly could be physical evidence to the contrary.

The batter foamed to an interesting consistency after the cream of tartar was added. It is at this point that Our Fearless Leader made the movie comparison and the 12 year old tried to console me by saying that at least the batter hadn't blown up. Actually, had there been a lid on the bowl, it would have. I know a chemical reaction when I see one.

Breakfast was dumped in the trash. We now had about a cup of milk in the house, so cold cereal was not an option. I did manage to scramble a sufficient quantity of eggs and the 12 year old made toast. I'd like to think that he was simply being helpful, but in my heart of hearts, I truly believe he was afraid of what might happen if I operated a small appliance.

You would probably not be surprised to find out that I currently have a load of wash going... without laundry soap. Nor will you be surprised to discover that when I cleared the dining table, I managed to drop the salt shaker - dumping about a half cup of salt all over the kitchen floor.

The day is young and I am strangely afraid of the havoc I may cause yet. I am terribly thirsty and filled with fear and trepidation at filling my glass. What if I need to fill the ice trays as well? Is there any hope for me?

Must Be January

2008-01-23T17:06:00.000-07:00

It's that time again. The hustle and bustle of preparing for Christmas is long over. The excitement of Christmas itself has run its course. I look at the calendar and think it's time to crack the whip again and get our homeschooling back on track.

And, as usual, I'm completely unmotivated to do anything but want to change everything. I don't really know what it is about January, but this seems to run through most of the homeschooling families I know. All of the sudden, we're swamped in ordinariness, overwhelmed by the task still before us, and just generally pooped.

Eh. I'm nothing if not consistent. So to everyone experiencing the January Blahs - I salute you, I hug you and pray for joy to find you again.

Ahem!

2008-01-10T17:22:00.000-07:00

Found today:

1 destroyed train track
1 shredded Bible study notebook
5 Bible tabs
1 bent Bible

1 Wonder GIRL

It's Been A Wonderful Week

2007-12-28T11:23:00.000-07:00

In the true spirit of Wonder Boy, this week has been an adventure. Oh my. On Christmas Eve afternoon he decided to take a tour of the neighborhood - he got as far as the street behind us before Justice Boy caught up to him and carried him home. There was wailing and gnashing of teeth and flailing of limbs. I'm sure it put the neighbors in the holiday mood.

The best Christmas presents were the roll of turquoise duct tape from my Bible study friends (they've seen WB in action) and the monkey backpack harness (bondage to one's parents never looked so cute). I have resisted the urge to use the duct tape, but it is safely tucked away in a convenient spot just in case. So far, WB seems to think the monkey is a great idea - and we'll just let him continue thinking that, won't we?

Not So Wonderful Gaudete Sunday

2007-12-17T16:04:00.000-07:00

Rejoice! The Savior is coming - He's almost here!
I hope the anticipation of Advent has been a blessing for your family.

* * * * * *

What an interesting day Sunday turned out to bee. Our day was abuzz with activity. We had missed a Christmas party with Our Fearless Leader's grandmother, so Sunday morning we jetted over for a visit. We discovered that Miss M has an intense dislike for animated statues of elves - the poor thing burst into tears anytime she was near the creaky old statue. She did, however, enjoy rocking out to the musical stylings of a stuffed polar bear and his entourage of dancing penguins. I imagine the staff at the center were all too happy to see our boisterous family leave... and I'm betting that musically gifted polar bear was retired as soon as the automatic door swooshed shut behind us.

We flew home to prepare for Uncle Firefighter, Aunt Magic Hands, and the Dynamic Nephews to arrive for our annual gingerbread house decorating. It was decided that we needed to snap a few pictures outside, so we set out to find the perfect backdrop for our photogenic young people. No sooner had we arranged them in a very cute pose, when I saw something fly into the collar of Wonder Boy's shirt. It dawned on me just as the perfect photo was about to be captured forever in digital form - the "something" was a BEE!

Once again, I had one of those slow-motion moments - I'm yelling "Waaaaiiiiiit!" and leaping forward just as Wonder Boy locks eyes with me, cringes and begins to wail. Suddenly I was right there, the now-bottomless bee was still crawling on his hand and the stinger was still stuck... in Wonder Boy's neck. The poor guy scratched himself horribly trying to get whatever was stuck off. Needless to say, the perfect photo op was ruined and beyond salvage.

Oh, well. There's always next year. In the meantime, may peace bee yours. ;)

P.S. I had to wait to post this on the off chance that my mother read my blog. The photos we were posing for at the time of the Great Bee Attack of 2007 were for her and I hated to spoil the surprise.

In Pursuit of Clear Speech

2007-12-10T16:19:00.000-07:00

I want to scream... and then cry. I am so frustrated.

After spending the afternoon playing phone games, I have left a voice mail at the Dept of Education. spoken to my insurance company, and spoken to the county homeschooling liaison. The county call was relatively useless. All she could suggest was that I call the state DoE... and then she gave me a number that's no good. So after tracking the correct number, I called the DoE. I went through the voicemail options, finally got a live person who transferred me to "the consultant of the day." Yeah, that's a direct quote. Guess what? I had to leave a voicemail. Great. So I did. Then I called my insurance company. Yes, speech therapy is covered as long as it's medically necessary. (Um... speech isn't medically necessary for survival, so what gives with that?) Anyway... it's covered... but falls under my deductible. Have I mentioned that my deductible FIVE THOUSAND dollars? Great. Peachy. So, while it's a theoretical option to go with private therapy, it's basically out of our league. Miss Consultant of the Day still hasn't called me back and I'm fairly certain I won't hear from her today because it's so late in the day.

Do you have any idea how much I regret ever changing our deductible to such a high one? Oh, wait. That's because it was hideously expensive to keep the higher premium/lower deductible combo. And now we pay MORE in premiums than we did back then AND have the higher deductible.

I want to cry. And I really want to break something. Preferably something that shatters and makes a loud crashing sound that would startle the next county's residents.

My Baby Says "Baby!"

2007-12-10T13:06:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we did some family Christmas shopping. The boys decided to buy her a set of bottles that go with her baby doll. And we also found a sibling for said baby doll. She took one look and said, "Baby!" As Our Fearless Leader and Oldest Kiddo went one way to make purchases, the rest of us went another in the store. The two purchasers got a kick out of Miss M yelling through the store... all they heard was "Baby! Baby! Baby!" They were relieved to find out that she was not unhappy... just loud.

Relying on the Government is Risky

2007-12-06T18:18:00.000-07:00

I was willing to give the benefit of the doubt to the district. So I made an appointment, waited FOUR weeks to get to the assessment in November, was told it would take FOUR more weeks to call me and set up an evaluation. I called today (it's been two weeks since the assessment) to check on the progress of evaluation scheduling. I was told that they are just finishing up SEPTEMBER's assessments. >:/ AND that I should just check back after the holidays... on January 7th.

It took every ounce not to scream at the woman handling my call. I WAS nice to her because I realize it's not *her*, it's the district administration. The preschool development/special ed folks are understaffed, and that's the fault of the administration. So I made two more phone calls until I finally got the name of who I need to talk to - BUT it does nothing to move my kid along.

If I wait to hear from or contact the preschool in January, that will be about 3 months since I first contacted the district for an evaluation. An evaluation that has not happened yet. We have only had an assessment to reveal that - DUH! - the kid can't talk and needs to be evaluated!!! So by the time I get an evaluation and a treatment plan, we're talking end of February as a best case scenario, four or five months later. That's nearly a HALF of a YEAR!!!!

I am beyond aggravated. I am praying that my pathetic excuse for health insurance covers therapy because we just can't wait this long. I take it back, I'm not aggravated - I am angry beyond measure.

This is the group of "experts" that I am supposed to entrust my children's education to? If they can't be adequately staffed and supported to help the kids in desperate need, what are they doing with the kids getting along ok? Please, don't answer that. I already experienced the answer last year.

Wonder Highlights of the Past Week

2007-12-03T15:35:00.000-07:00

It's been too crazy to post daily. But here is the week in digest form:

Sunday: We ended a lovely Thanksgiving weekend. The brined turkey was the best ever - we'll be doing THAT again! Our Fearless Leader cleaned out a set of cabinets in the schoolroom and I planned in my head what to do with the newfound space.

Monday: We returned from Park Day after chasing Wonder Boy down in the parking lot. I thought that little adventure might be the wonder moment of the day... but Wonder Boy was feeling curious. At some point I paid attention to the niggling idea that something was amiss and sought WB out. He was in the schoolroom unattended... with an open bottle of glue. He announced, "deedee" as he pinched his fingers together and pried them apart when I ran in. As I turned to the countertop to place the now-closed-and-sticky glue bottle down, I mentioned that he should not play with... I never got to finish that thought because I turned back around to see him with an open bottle of red craft paint. That would be craft paint, from the now emptied cabinet, that I had tucked in the far back side of a basket and placed as far back on the desk as possible. I grabbed the bottle and quickly escorted WB to the bathroom. Somehow we managed to avoid painting the carpet and only dripped on the tile. It took three hand washings to rinse all of the paint off. We did have to retire a bathroom towel though - it lived a long and useful life, though it's colorful demise was not expected.

Tuesday: It's all a blur. But we survived.

Wednesday: A fantastic time was had by Miss M, WB and I on the baby swings at the park. I don't think I've ever seen two kids enjoy swinging more.

Thursday: Homeschooling issues abounded, diapers were strewn about (unused, of course), multiple time outs by the middle children, but it was a good day all in all. Once again, we survived.

Friday: It rained. It rained. It rained. And it rained some more. I was waiting for the children to ask me who was sinless in the world and where should they look for the next ark. It rained some more. Then it got dark and rained. There was a point when it sounded more like a tsunami had somehow become vertical and landed on the house, but we checked and it was just more rain.

Saturday: I thought "Please shoot me," as we woke up to more rain. The boys went to work with Our Fearless Leader and Miss M and I went grocery shopping with the ENTIRE city. Apparently no one else likes to shop in the rain either, but after Thanksgiving leftovers ran out we all found ourselves with bare pantries. Mass was served, dinner was made, and a hilarious movie was enjoyed by OFL and me.

Sunday: An uneventful day. Bu the noise level in our house by four children after two days of rain is not a pleasant experience.

Monday: Miss M discovered sand and grass at the park today. WB decided to throw sand at Miss M, inspiring the Park Day Playground Monitor to stalk over and tell me that "that little boy has been throwing sand at that poor baby...." It was a prickly moment, and I had to tell her that they were both MY children and thankyouverymuch for noticing. At that point we began to pack up. It's 4pm now and we still have dinner, RE class and baths to go before I can lay my little ones to bedtime rest. Wish me luck.

T Minus 47.5 Hours

2007-11-20T15:37:00.000-07:00

Thanksgiving Dinner will be served in less than 48 hours. As of right now:

there is a styrofoam solar system drying on my kitchen counter
several piles of various... stuff... lying on the same kitchen counter
a half-done list of chores on another counter
a "cleaned" bathroom that needs to be recleaned under adult supervision
a toddler in need of a bath
a baby in need of a bath
a semi-thawed turkey for which I can't find a container to brine it in
a patio that hasn't been swept in a month
I have a raging headache
the ever-growing Mount Washmore seems to be taking over the laundry room/pantry

Amazingly enough I am not stressed out. I am wondering how I will get everything done to my satisfaction, but I'm not stressed. Off to supervise bathroom cleaning yet again...

Evidence of Work Avoidance

2007-11-08T09:03:00.000-07:00

If you notice any of these things, be assured that there is Work Avoidance happening in the vicinity:

A 12 year old and 7 year old found watching Thomas the Tank Engine in rapt silence.

A screensaver bouncing across a 12 year old's computer while wild whooping sounds emanate from the backyard.

Cooing and giggling heard in the living room whilst you read aloud in the kitchen tales of martyrs being hanged, drawn and quartered. Upon glancing up, you notice your audience is suspiciously absent.

Your child is at least a week behind on assignments, yet amazingly has the time and patience to sit with his baby sibling and attempt to teach her to walk.

Squishsquash

2007-11-08T08:55:00.000-07:00

Last night, Our Fearless Leader and I were watching a show about monsters on the History Channel. I finally gave up and went to bed before it was over (18 hour days will make a person a little bit tired). At breakfast, we were talking about the results of a DNA test done on "samples" taken from a bed of screws placed in the doorway of a cabin in a remote forest of Canada. It turns out the DNA was sent to two labs and both reported that the samples were primate in origin, but not human. Ooooooooh. (Cue spooky music.) Our Fearless Leader declared that Sasquatch must be real (and we giggled about it).

A few minutes later, the Yet-to-be-Named Wonder Child was making bold statements of the truth....

Squishsquash is real!!!!!!

Wonder Girl Strikes Again

2007-11-07T17:51:00.000-07:00

This time it was the stairs. I was watching just out of her sight. Up... two... three... four... and she would have kept right on climbing without intervention.

Then it was the recycled trash can. Not only can the entire wastebasket be used as a walking aide, it also is a handy way to tote around fun toys - stuff like pop cans, papers of all shapes and colors, boxes and loads of other nifty items. Mominator is such a stick in the mud, though, and always seems to interrupt the fun.

Railroading accidents have become commonplace in the living room. Poor Thomas the Tank Engine probably knows more about Miss M's oral hygiene than I do.

Now then... where DID I put that baby gate?

Fortune?

2007-11-04T17:47:00.000-07:00

My fortune cookie fortune from today's Sunday dinner says this:

It's over your head now.
Time to get some professional help.

Um.... ouch?

Naps Are Eeeeeeevil

2007-11-04T11:01:00.001-07:00

Whatever you do, do NOT allow your Wonder Children to nap. Ever.

Yesterday Our Fearless Leader sent me off for a mid-day shopping escapade with the Quilting Bee (that would be my mother). The Quilting Bee and I had a grand time gallavanting about the mall - a place I've not set foot in for at least a year or so. When I called to ask the older children to be ready to head out the door for Mass upon my return home, I heard that Wonder Boy had fallen asleep, snuggled up to Our Fearless Leader. It was just a 30 minute nap.

Bedtime just didn't come soon enough after that. Wonder Boy took the nap and a Wild, Fussy Beast woke up in his stead. Unfortunately for me, the mall closes at 9pm... I might have run away if given the opportunity.

Can I Eat That?

2007-11-02T01:17:00.000-06:00

The answer to this question is always "no."

Even for Mommy. A.L.W.A.Y.S. If you have to ask, the answer is no. Every time. No matter what. Without a doubt. Undoubtedly. Uh-uh. No way. NO!

Guess who ate cheese pizza and is paying dearly for the dairy escapade?

Wonder.....

2007-11-01T18:23:00.000-06:00

GIRL????

Say it's not so! Please!

Miss M has left a path of destruction in her wake. Among the casualties today: Wonder Boy's painstakingly constructed train track; the floor of our school room; the back of a piece of framed art I've had yet to hang; the cups & bowls cabinet; the diaper cabinet; the playdough remnants accidentally left on the floor (by the way, playdough does, indeed, seem to be non-toxic); my computer keyboard; and the dog's food & water. And this was with supervision!

A Wonder-ful End to Wonder Boy's Day

2007-10-27T11:37:00.000-06:00

We did finally get out the door to get on the road for Wonder Boy's Birthday Bash. No Wonder Moments preceeded the exodus to the van - just the usual packing-up chaos. The party itself was a hit.

There were a few Wonder Moments at the park: WB threw rocks at his cousin (we're not sure why); WB took off toward the playground once or twice, but actually stayed fairly close by; the Yet-To-Be-Permanently-Named 7yo managed to convince us all that he was lost; and WB tried to go and feed the ducks in the pond - alone. But all in all, it was a fabulous time.

The best present opening at a birthday party was witnessed by us all. Wonder Boy opened the gift from Uncle Firefighter and Aunt Magic Hands - it was an official firefighter t-shirt. Now... I know that there are kids who say they like receiving clothes, but three year olds don't tend to be among those ranks. Well, let me tell you... WB stripped off his shirt so fast and screamed with glee upon opening this present. He wore the t-shirt for the rest of his party (and to bed, lol). He also got a ball... which somehow ended up needing to be rescued by Uncle Firefighter. No ducks were harmed during the ball rescue... but Uncle Firefighter probably needs to burn the shorts that got wet in the pond.

I am thrilled beyond words to see my Wonder Boy has made it to three years old. After his rough start and all the Wonder Moments of the past several years, we have come to realize that it's always touch and go with this one. And I won't lie and say it made it to 3 unscathed - he is now sporting a limp and his ankle is an "owie."

Oh well. He's alive. And that's what matters.

Wonder Moments of the Day (so far)

2007-10-26T14:39:00.000-06:00

Happy Birthday, Wonder Boy!

The day so far:

The morning started with a time out for pushing his sister's face into the carpet for no apparent reason. Later, WB followed me upstairs and ran into his napping sister's room. Napping sister ended up screaming for 15 minutes. Then he climbed up on my bed, but not before falling off the side several times. He grabbed a book by the pages and ran about with it. He refused to go down the stairs when asked. When we got back downstairs, it was only 10:00.

We went to the grocery store where he: knocked all the milk cartons in my cart over several times; he aimed for (but missed) the eggs; he poked holes in the paper plate packaging, ripped several "sale" signs off of the aisles; began to open a box of crackers; took multiple boxes and jars off of shelves or caused them to tumble to the floor; squished the dinner rolls meant for his party, then bit a hole in the packaging for said rolls; he discovered how well his shrieks would carry in the store and proceeded to let out a good one every 5 minutes or so just to be sure; he grabbed at the cake (but I managed to rescue it); and, decided not to carry the bins I was buying and nearly dropped them on me. Did I mention that he was restrained in the cart seat? BUT... the eggs made it home whole and I did actually manage to get 99% of what was on my list.

Once home, he was starving but didn't want to sit at the table. He wanted to play, but didn't want to go outside. My eldest son is out there now - teaching WB to RIDE A SCOOTER. I'm questioning the wisdom in allowing that.

It's only 1:37. Wanna bet more happens?

A Blessing

2007-10-24T11:20:00.000-06:00

When the Itinerant Papist Preacher came to our parish for the annual parish mission, Our Fearless Leader picked up a card with this blessing. I pass it on to you:

May Christ be...
in your going forth
and
in your coming back,
in your rising
and
in your lying down,
on your right hand
and on your left,
before you,
and behind you,
above you,
and beneath you.

May you find
the presence of Christ
in every person you encounter.

May you bring
the presence of Christ
to every person you meet.

MIA: Updates from the Trenches

2007-10-23T08:27:00.000-06:00

Life has a tendency to run away with me.

My aunt and uncle have been in town staying with my parents. I hadn't seen them (the aunt and uncle, lol) in about 20 years or so. We've been over as much as possible these past few days. And I have to say, my kids make me proud.

Wonder Boy is sleeping in a Big Boy Bed! No more tent! Our Fearless Leader, brave man that he is, worked for 6 hours on Sunday to recover the Lost Boys' Room. He found the massive bunk beds, the bins for toys, and various stuffed animals. He decommissioned the tent and made the lower bunk fit for a Wonder.

Wonder Boy is also sleeping sans binky! It had become nothing less than a choking hazard and could have posed as a plastic puppet (the bulb was practically severed). I told him it broke, he said, "bwoke, bye bye bee." And that was it. Blessedly anticlimactic.

The oldest of the Super Children are plugging away at their school lessons... when we manage to work on them. Discipline has been sorely lacking in our home, mostly MY discipline. Our groove of 5 years of homeschooling was a bit more interrupted than I thought. It's taking more time to get up and running.

Mominator has gone strictly vegetarian again... but that's a post for another time.

The Urchins are awake and demanding breakfast. Wish us luck on this new day.

Driving Can Be Hazardous To Your Mental & Spiritual Health

2007-09-26T07:48:00.000-06:00

I'm sure this is no surprise, but driving in today's society is a bit like playing roulette... as the little ball.

A few days ago the kids and I had to run out in the afternoon. I decided not to take the typically most congested road out of our town and opted instead for the slightly longer route. It involved a bit of construction and many 4-way stops.

Let me just pause here to ponder the 4-way stop. It seems like an efficient traffic control option for a country founded on the principles of freedom, personal responsibility to the social good, and just plain common sense. The 4-way stop is actually a surprisingly good meter for the common sense and manners of our fellow countrymen. You'll see what I mean in a moment.

The ideal 4-way stop experience would involve multiple cars coming to a full stop, the drivers paying strict attention to giving the right-of-way to the vehicle on their right, and proceeding through when it is safe and legal to do so. Simple, really. The REAL 4-way stop, however, is a free-for-all where only the rude and truly clueless driver are in their element. Crabby, overtired, overworked, and just plain stupid or mean people prevail in 4-way stop intersections. They just drive when they feel like it, regardless of who arrived at the stop first or whose turn it actually is.

We were nearly broadsided several times on the way to our destination. My particular favorite was the boil on the bottom of humanity driving the gigantic truck to our right. He must have been there for hours and/or got his driver's license from the proverbial Cracker Jack box, because I am at a loss as to why he thought he should drive through the intersection directly after the vehicle to my left. The next in turn, of course, was me. So I started... and had to brake midway into the intersection. He gave us a lovely hand gesture, which all of my children saw and a couple commented upon. Niiiiiice. Really nice. What a guy, flipping off a mom with children in the van.

Crying on the freeway because you are so angry is not a good idea, but I did it anyway. I was angry because he was not the first OR the last one to do such a thing to us that day. And yes, when Mr. Anonymously-Driving-Thousands-of-Pounds-of-Metal purposely drives in a dangerous, illegal manner and then has the presence of mind to yell at me and gesture obscenely, I do feel that the action was completely directed at ME and my family. It ceased being a clueless or random act of idiocy when he flipped the bird. It is evil to make a gesture like that at a woman driving a minivan with children in it. Especially a woman who is driving like a normal, sane person. (Hm. Do you think I'm a bit bitter about this?)

Back to some sort of point. What I see happening at the 4-way stop is exactly what I see in the rest of society these days. Don't feel like waiting your turn? Just go - the rules don't apply to you. Annoyed because you can't see around the minivan in front of you? Go ahead, pass on the right and press on through - the rules don't apply to you either. Once people think no one is looking (and that's exactly what we think when we climb into our vehicles - admit it), or at least that no one will know who we are, we suddenly have a lot more in common with Mr. Hyde than Dr. Jekyll. We cave in to those vicious thoughts and urges, and it's safe to do so because there's no face on the other vehicle that we have to look at. We suddenly think we are the only ones that matter, our task or errand is more important than anyone else's.

It's shameful. I admit, I'm ashamed that I absolutely wished for that man to, at the very least, experience a breakdown in the middle of the construction zone during rush hour traffic. Preferably a breakdown involving train tracks, cement, mud, tar and feathers. An oncoming train would have added a nice touch. That makes me no better a human being than he... But I will maintain that I am the better driver.

The Joys of Dealing With Government Agencies

2007-09-24T15:47:00.000-06:00

Augh! I had to order more birth certificates from Vital Records. I am supposed to send in an affidavit of intent to homeschool within 30 days of beginning homeschooling. I have to have certified copies of the birth certificates to do that. Ok. Fine. I downloaded the request form at the Vital Records website, wrote my check and sent it off at the beginning of September.

Today I get my forms and my check BACK with a letter that says as of September of 2004 they no longer accept personal checks as payment, BUT IT CLEARLY STATES ON THE FORM *ITSELF* THAT PERSONAL CHECKS ARE ACCEPTABLE! Augh!!!! So NOW I have to send in my debit card info because some idiots in a government agency don't give a rat's fuzzy rump about the accuracy of their own stupid forms. And I'm upset because I will probably miss the deadline for registering the affidavits (which is probably not a big deal, and I am keeping copies of all correspondence to back me up). I am also irritated beyond measure because I have tried to call the office twice to speak with a customer service rep - when I select the "speak to a representative" option on the voice system IT HANGS UP ON ME. Every. Single. Time.

To say that I am unimpressed by my state's government today is an understatement.

Do You Know Where My Children Were At 9:40 This Morning?

2007-09-20T12:19:00.000-06:00

I didn't either. I discovered them in an upstairs bedroom building with Legos. What's wrong ith that you wonder? Well... after breakfast, the routine around here is to clean up, get dressed, do a few chores and get started with school by 9:00.

Amazingly they knew when SNACK TIME was, but not when to start school. Hmmm.

It Is Monday

2007-09-17T18:17:00.000-06:00

Doesn't that just say it all?

I have picked up more times than I ever should. I have sent WB to the corner more times than I thought possible. Even the baby has been confined to her playpen. Why?

Because we own a dog who actually would like to drink clean water and eat clean food.

The smallest people in our house have dumped the dog food into the water multiple times today. Once was not enough fun apparently. I am at my wits' end.

I want chocolate. And I'm not sharing.

Where's The Hair?

2007-09-16T16:15:00.000-06:00

Miss M is still sporting a peach-fuzz head. She has 6 or 7 long hairs near the crown of her head and a rim of 1" long hair around the back of her head. She looks like a little old man. Until she smiles... then she looks like Spongebob Squarepants.

I want to buy barrettes. I want to buy headbands. I want to comb some hair!

Hampered Again

2007-09-14T13:02:00.000-06:00

I really like those little fold-away hampers our Fearless Leader finds at the local dollar store. They twist open, they're light enough to tote up and down the stairs, they're inexpensive. Well, they're inexpensive IF you get more than one use out of them. How do I know this?

Wonder Boy has disemboweled the fifth hamper this year. For some reason that I am just incapable of grasping, the boy likes to work the wires out of the skeletal frame of these hampers. If he disappears on laundry day, I know that I have mere seconds to rescue a hamper from this fiend. And the kicker is that then I have to worry about a toddler with exposed wires. Think about this: Wonder Boy... Wire. Wonder Boy... W.I.R.E.!!!!!! Not good.

I should have known that I've been failing in my mission to teach him to use his super powers for good - last week he managed to separate his super-cape from the tie. I'm thinking there's a parallel here... stripping off the cape of all that is holy and good in this world and abandoning it for a life of crime. Apparently he' s begun his Reign of Terror by holding my hampers hostage.

Form E-Letter For Homeschoolers

2007-09-06T19:52:00.001-06:00

On a favorite homeschooling board I frequent, several moms were talking about incessant phone calls. Typically this is not something I deal much with... but it always helps to be prepared. I came up with a form letter/email. Feel free to plagarize:

Hi everyone!

Just a quick email to update everyone on all the goings on. Buttercup is doing well in cheer practice, Bufford is almost done reassembling Daddy-O's engine... just missing a few screws and found some extra bolts. Daddy-O did manage to lose 47 pounds from walking to and from work though. Junior's carrots are growing well and Miss Bessy found a new use for dry spaghetti.

Oh, before I forget: we decided to try a new schedule this year. Between the hours of 9am and 2pm we are implementing a strict no-phone, no-door policy. We ponied up for voice-mail though, so don't worry about us missing out.

Ciao for now and take care!
The Crazy Homeschooling Relatives (insert your name here)

Who IS This Child?

2007-09-05T21:35:00.001-06:00

And what has he done with Wonder Boy?

Oh, we had many wonder moments today... but today was exceptionally good. We had our first Park Day of the year with our home schooling group. I was not looking forward to it. Actually, I was looking forward to seeing my friends and having the kids play - but I was not looking forward to taking Wonder Boy to the park.

Think about it. A park. It has playground equipment (good), bathrooms (necessary evil), grassy knolls (ok... but they lead to the surrounding neighborhood), a parking lot (very, very bad), and is bordered by roads (so bad, there aren't enough adjectives to go around). I had visions of duct taping him to the back of the stroller and stuffing a cheeseburger in his mouth as a gag.

But... he LISTENED. He stayed on the playground 98% of the time. He ventured out to the grass and came back when I showed him back to the playground. He wandered to the bathrooms and came back when I showed him back to the playground. He immensely enjoyed the fire truck that came to hose the kids down (it's horrifically hot here in the desert) and the fire crew had no need to rescue him.

And when it was time to leave, he got in his carseat and didn't pitch a fit. I was dumbstruck.

Today had to be one of the calmest days this child has ever had.

Something Must Be Wrong With My Alarm Clock

2007-09-05T07:27:00.000-06:00

Instead of yelling "Blah! Bah! AaaaHHHH!" at 6:03 a.m., she did it at 6:07 a.m.

I don't think that counts as "sleeping in."

I Have A Plan

2007-09-04T18:29:00.000-06:00

It involves duct tape, cotton balls, a room with a door...

...and Wonder Boy.

The plan is a work in progress and I need to iron the kinks out. Plan A would involve duct taping the boy to a wall in the room with a door and then placing cotton balls in my ears. Plan B would involve duct taping cotton balls to the walls of the room with a door (think "padded cell") and locking myself in. I haven't come up with a Plan C yet.

I'm also implementing Plan Pizza tonight.

A Little Bit About Sacrifice

2007-08-31T17:08:00.000-06:00

Several nights ago the family was watching Peter Jackson's remake of King Kong. There was poor Ann Darrow, captured by the natives of Skull Island, strung up on a rickety bridge and awaiting her sure-to-be-horrific encounter with the beast.

Our 7yo, thoroughly engrossed in the film, asked what was happening. Our Fearless Leader said Miss Darrow was to be a sacrifice.

Our Young Man in Training, without skipping a beat, said, "No, she's a snackrifice."

He really does have a wickedly good sense of humor. I hope to hear more of it.

A Simple Game of Fetch

2007-08-27T07:44:00.000-06:00

While Wonder Boy is often the ~~perpetrator~~ center of odd behavior around here, this little tidbit revolves around our Young Man In Training and Miss M. Young Man is 12yo and, God bless his heart, plays with all the younger kids so well. He truly is a sweet boy... but he is a bit twisted. How could I say this?

He has taught the baby to play "fetch." Late last week he demonstrated her new developmental skill. He'd take a toy, show it to her, toss it across the room and tell her to fetch. AND SHE DID! She'd crawl as fast as her little hands and legs would go, grab the toy, sit down and show it to him, then crawl back with it. They did this over and over. I just about died.

My baby plays fetch and tag. She's a good little dog? :p

What Have I Done?

2007-08-25T08:56:00.000-06:00

Is it any coincidence that WB's middle name is shared by one of the most notorious hurricanes to ever make landfall in Florida?

Is it possible to channel hurricane energy? I believe so.

Do You Read Food Labels?

2007-08-23T08:58:00.000-06:00

On a forum I frequent this poll was posted today:

Do you read food labels before making purchases?

Yes - I spend a lot of time scrutinizing labels.

Sometimes – It depends on what the food is.

Not often – Labels aren't important to me.

This poll is fundamentally flawed, as no mother can really answer it. It presumes that Mom is able to go shopping without her brood in tow. Labels are important to me; I'd love to be able to scrutinize them, but I haven't had the ability to read a food label in at least three years. Here's a typical exchange while trying to decide on, oh, peanut butter:

Me: Peanut butter, peanut butter... where's the doggone peanut butter?

Kid1: Mom, can I have the Super Crunchy Awesome Pile'o'sugar Bombs? Please? They're on sale!!!

Me: Not now, I'm looking for peanut butter, do you see the peanut butter? (As I say it, I am taking the bread, now squished, from Kid3's hand.)

Kid2: wheeeeeeeeeeee! (Don't ask... it involves spinning and sliding in the aisle)

We enter the third aisle, still looking for peanut butter...

Me: Grab the plates. You, grab the taco shells. Hey! Stop squishing the bread, you turkey.

Kid1: I'll get the turkey. (runs off)

Me: Wait! We don't need turkey! Your brother is the turkey! Grab a straightjacket if you see one!

Kid4: bbbbbbbblllllllllllpt (this involves lots of drool.... but it's cute and entertains the old people shopping)

Elderly Man: What a sweet little boy. (said while gazing at the baby dressed in nauseating cotton-candy pink ruffles)

Me: Thank you very much. We love her so. (arm whips out to stop the spinning child before I need dramamine)

Kid1: They're out of turkey. So, have you thought about the Sugar Bombs? Crusty Crunchy Chocos are good too.

Kid3: Mine! (grabbing for the eggs)

Me: Ok... that's everything... (grabs nutter butter cookies, sugar free koolaid, and a bag of tortilla chips on the way to the checkout)

Later, upon unloading the shopping bags in the kitchen....

Me: WHERE IS THE PEANUT BUTTER???

Now... did you notice any label reading?

So Very Tired

2007-08-22T20:50:00.000-06:00

It's not like anything outlandish has happened in the past few days. I've retrieved a sopping wet baby from the dog's bowl only about 423 times (upside, not having to go out of my way to do weight lifting and squats). I've changed about 15 poopy diapers for the rugrats, culminating in a screaming bath for Wonder Boy (upside, he was yawning and ready for bed by the end of the bath). I watched the neighbor's children when they were locked out of the house after school (upside, um... still looking for the upside to having a psychotic 6yo around egging on an already Wonderful Wonder Boy).

Last night my beloved, Our Fearless Leader, came home from work at 7pm. God bless him, he cooked his own dinner and sent me upstairs and said, "You're excused from life for the rest of the night." Have I mentioned I love this man?

So I plopped down on the sofa after taking a refreshing shower. I was in jammies but just not quite ready to turn in for the night. Our Fearless Leader was watching a family favorite movie: Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark. Thing One and Thing Two were playing Kadoo - Thing Two had to ask me "What does this say?" every other turn because he still lacks sufficient reading skills to vanquish Thing One. Wonder Boy and Miss M were tucked snugly in their tents and cribs (yes, WB really does sleep in a tent... but that's another story for another day). Have I mentioned yet how tired I've been?

I fell asleep, sitting upright, with all this commotion going on at 8pm. I don't think I actually woke all the way up to read Thing Two's game cards to him. My beloved admitted this morning that he kept glancing over in amazement as I drifted off, open-mouthed in my little sofa nest. I'm afraid to ask what was so amazing. I think it had something to do with that head whipping motion in combination with the ever prolonged blinking. I still have several years of sleep to catch up on, so checking out on the sofa seems so... inviting.

Oh, well. Tonight I owe Thing Two a game of Uno, which we'll play as Thing One is chained to the sink doing dinner dishes. I can hear my pillows calling to me, sirens that they are. But I shall resist and play. If only I could figure out how to throw a game of Uno without getting caught (the penalties would be steep, I have no doubt).

Nursing = Permission to Wreak Havoc

2007-08-07T16:21:00.000-06:00

NEWSFLASH:
If you stop and nurse your baby for more than 30 seconds, you are giving permission to any other siblings baby may have that it is Open Season.

Good gravy. I sat down for just two minutes to nurse Miss M and get her ready for her afternoon nap. No biggie. We've done this every day now for, what, 10 months? Wonder Boy took note and proceeded to drain his juice...

... under the kitchen table, onto the floor, by shaking his cup violently.

Apparently he though his skin needed moisture, too. So he sat in the juice puddle and swished his tooshie and legs in it. Meanwhile, the older kids are yelling, "Mom!" As if I had nothing else going on. I must be doing a very bad job of teaching Household Management to these people because no one recognized that this was a prime application of their "Many Uses of the Kitchen Towels" lecture from this morning.

I Really Do Mean What I Say

2007-08-01T17:24:00.000-06:00

I have said about 457,928 times since last August: Do not run on the porch when it's wet because you'll slip and hit your head.

Wonder Boy really needs to learn to listen.

It's raining - and in Arizona that calls for the family to stand on the porch and make silly comments like "look! it's raining" or "are we going to float away?" or "is the street really supposed to look that wet?" So there we were. And Wonder Boy was full of wonder. No sooner had I said we should head in and he took off like a shot...

It was like a scene out of a movie... in slow motion, but you know it's more like "bullet time." His feet flew out in front of him, he hit the ground with his bottom and slid forward, and his head made that awful *thud*ing sound. We actually picked him up and got him inside before the first wail... though I think he did create something of a vacuum when he sucked in all that air.

Poor kid. He looks fine... but I wonder if he had any sense knocked into him?

Costco and Me: A Dangerous Relationship

2007-07-31T18:12:00.000-06:00

Good gravy. I don't think I'll ever make it out of Costco for less than $350 again. Two giant boxes of diapers, a box of wipes, salmon, chicken, paper plates, bread, chips, fruit, milk, eggs and few other odd things...

The funniest part was loading up the van. All four kids were packed in there and then all of the boxes and jars were jammed in around them. All the frozen foods were up in the front passenger seat, the diapers were shoved in the floor space under the carseats, the box of wipes sat precariously between the two older kids in the back. The rest was creatively stacked in the the "cargo area" of the van. (Anyone with a Kia Sedona can tell you that the "cargo area" is a joke.)

We did manage to entertain the elderly shopping today... until Wonder Boy decided to get mad at his brothers for touching the cart.

Home Improvement Safety Reminder

2007-07-29T10:29:00.000-06:00

Just in case there was ANY question at all in your minds, I feel it my duty to remind you all that toddlers and power tools should never exist in the same dimension.

We are building shelves in our schoolroom. A friend has been gracious enough to do the brunt of the assembly for us and we are doing the staining and finish. However, the assembly has required the use of a router, a saw, and a pneumatic nail gun. I've had compressor hosing draped across my living room for half the weekend. Now, the tools have never been plugged in without our friend being right there to actually operate them... but the hosing has had to stay in place. Just after lunch yesterday, I found the Miss M at one end of the hosing... and WB at the other end! I am happy to say that I don't have any accidental "Run By Nailing" incidents to report. Our Fearless Leader and Friend had to run up to the hardware store two or three times - a task we've come to expect with any home project. (LOL, it's not a project unless it involves a great deal of sighing, a trip to Home Depot, and possibly some swearing.) But other than supply runs, a cut finger for our Friend, and a lot of sawdust, nothing too exciting or bloody happened.

I have to give WB a lot of credit. He was cooped up inside all day long because outside was just not safe with the saw & router. He was so cute running to open the door every time Our Fearless Leader and the Friend were carrying the 7-foot-long boards through. Then he'd run to the middle of the board and "help" carry it. He eyed the nail gun... but asked to leave the room once it was in use - praise the Lord that the darned thing is so loud! I am relieved, however, to have all the equipment gone and be left with the task of varnishing today.

Home Ec 101 - Cooking and Reading

2007-07-27T08:45:00.000-06:00

Cooking and reading should never be attempted simultaneously. Especially if the cooking involves pancakes, or some other "must watch it" type of food.

I have been thoroughly engrossed in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Thoroughly. I actually had to make a daily chore list and include meals and changing diapers on it. I figured pancakes was a simple dinner -- throw it together and babysit the griddle. No biggie.

Burned pancakes, anyone?

Snow in July?

2007-07-24T19:56:00.000-06:00

Wonder Boy was in the pantry as I was mixing pancake batter for dinner. I heard an odd noise. Care to venture a guess?

Let's just say that Malt-O-Meal sounds a bit like snow... and we all know the odds of snow in a Phoenix pantry in July is something of an impossibility. I had to vacuum the whole darned pantry for 15 minutes to get the cereal out of there. It still smells like chocolate. :)

My life is NEVER boring with this kid.

The Long Term Effects of GERD

2007-07-23T21:17:00.000-06:00

Let's just say that the words "Gag Reflex" are commonplace in our home now and I am able to control the average mess with only 3 paper towels.

Miss M is teething. She has 4 fabulous, little, razor-sharp teeth and is now of an age to experiment with biter biscuits. Enter Wonder Boy. He sees said biter biscuit and... takes a bite. The next thing I hear is "eh eh eh." That, by the way, is Wonder-ese for "Mommy, get this out of my mouth before I puke." I know the drill, so I grab a paper towel and instruct WB to spit the goo out of his mouth. While he does this, I am saying that he shouldn't take his sister's snacks and...

Blaaaaaaahhhhp.

Oh yeah.

WB took his spitting a hair too far and puked everywhere, including MY feet. Ew. Ew. Ew.

So I grab a few more paper towels, strip WB down, wipe up the floor, wipe off my own feet, put WB on the clean mat by the stove, and proceed to mop the floor. Then it was off to the tub. Would you be impressed to know that all of this took place in the span of just 10 minutes?