Summer Solstice

As any Mom worth her salt knows, summer has little to do with the date on the calendar marked as "first day of summer".  It's all about the date the school shuts and locks its doors.

Since my kids attend two schools, that means two first days of summer in our household.  The first was yesterday, as my youngest walked out of his school doors for the last time as a freshman.

The others will finish up next week, so they still had to trudge off to the bus this morning with heads hung low.

Summer with school-aged children is a funny thing, isn't it?  When we Moms make it to the final stretch, we're nearly as giddy with anticipation as our kids.  We cannot WAIT for school to be over with.  No more begging/pleading/cajoling/demanding on issues of homework, studying, books, papers, projects.  No more dance recitals, play practice, after-school activities.  No more lunch money, lunch-packing, permission slips, field trips, field days, teacher conferences.  We think of long lazy days and watermelon and beaches and pools and the smell of sunblock and the warmth of the sun and good books and roadside stands overflowing with fresh goodies.  Like our kids, we feel FREE.

But then by the end of the summer?  We become just as giddy over the thought of them returning to school.  No more sun-up to sun-down bickering, boredom.  No more messes.  Well, scratch that.  Still plenty of mess, just seven hours less in the day for them to create those messes.  Seven hours less in the day for them to suck every crumb out of your cabinets and yell "There's nothing to eeeeeeeeatt!!!"    We dream of quiet houses, changing the radio station from pop to classic rock, fall leaves, cool weather, sweatshirts and jeans, quiet...

So for me, and probably for most parents, the summer solstice is not about the point at which days go from getting longer to getting shorter or about the beginning of the summer season.  Rather, it is the tipping point of summer break when we go from being glad school is over to counting down the days till it starts back up again.  My solstice typically arrives sometime in late July, but of course that depends very much on how my little angels are behaving.  If they act more like the young adults most of them are, my solstice may never come.  If they carry on like over-sugared 3rd graders at a birthday party, my solstice may very well arrive before summer truly begins.

Here's hoping for a late solstice.

Happy summer, everyone!

Image source

Appliances. Story of a Love-Hate Relationship.

Life is good.

I have many conveniences in my household that make my life so much easier.

Except when they decide not to work.

Like my dishwasher.

A wondrous thing.

But since there currently appears to be some mystery food clogging its plumbing, it won't drain.

Translation: we can't use it.

Translation #2: we're handwashing all the dishes, which means every inch of countertop is taken up with dirty dishes in varying degrees of filth, or clean dishes in varying stages of drying. Looks classy.








Or like my washer and dryer.

Can you imagine life without that hardworking little duo? I can't.

But recently our spin cycle decided to go on vacation.

Which means when the clothes are done washing, we have to wring them out by hand over the sink or the bathtub before they're placed in the dryer.

Even doing so, the clothes are so wet that it takes about four dryer cycles to get the clothes dry.

So we've been getting a little backed up on laundry 'round here.

Not good, my friends.


And lastly, the refrigerator.

Oh, it's doing just fine.

But some filter thingy sprung a leak and water leaked all inside the fridge and into the little shelves on the door and then froze, so all the jellies and condiments are stuck in the ice.

The freezer, on the other hand, refuses to make ice, so it's back to the 1950s we go with ice cube trays that the kids seem not to know how to fill up when they're empty.

I know, it's pretty complicated stuff filling ice cube trays, I'm probably expecting too much of my kids.



And my computer has been coming on to me lately.  Last night I thought I'd play a few hands of solitaire to relax before bed.  I still had a couple tabs open, like maybe Blogger and Yahoo or something.  But I could hear heavy breathing from the computer. It was kind of freaky.




Worst part about it was it didn't even offer to buy me a drink...




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Valentine's Day. It's All About the Romance.

I originally posted this on my old blog about two or three years ago, but I like to drag it out every year at Valentine's Day. It's my tradition.

I live a life of thrills....






5:15 Awakened by shrill beeping. Stupid alarm clock. I was having a wonderful dream about my new crush Justin Bieber. I saw the movie last night with my girls and I know I could be his Grandma (OK, maybe a slightly younger friend of his Grandma's), so hang me, but he is so stinkin' cute. Any female, no matter the age, would be rendered helpless when he flips his hair like that in 3D slo-mo. Anyway, who am I supposed to crush on that's in my age group. Barry Manilow?

Showered and dressed and headed downstairs. Hung up birthday banner. Started coffee and set out the morning meds. Made breakfast for the masses. Arranged on the breakfast table seven adorable Valentine's bags filled with cards, trinkets and sweets.

Love must be in the air 'cuz there was a minimum of Morning Bickers today.
Moment of Rejoicing #1

7:00 Got five kids on bus. Woke sixth child up. Fred came downstairs and I told him Good-Morning-Happy-Valentine's-Day-Happy-Birthday. Happy Valentine's Day to you, too, said he, and he plodded on off to work.
Did I imagine it or did his hair do a little flip as he walked out the door?

8:30 Drove 6th child to school and then headed up the road to do my Monday Morning Grocery Shopping. I am nothing if not a woman of consistency and routine, romance be damned. Managed to fill my cart for under $200 for the first time in like a month.
Moment of Rejoicing #2

12:00 Groceries put away. Baked BD cake for Fred. Began taking down the remaining Christmas decorations.
I know. Dec 25th - Feb 14th. I can do the math. Hush now. I will be judged by a higher authority than man.

3:00 All kids home from school, and I ran out the door with 2 or 3 of them to do last minute (seriously, last minute) birthday shopping for their Dad.
As we were wrapping the gifts, he walked in the door. We all wished him Happy-Birthday-Happy-Valentine's-Day and hugs and kisses were dispensed all around. He had a treat for me. Gourmet chocolate-covered strawberries.
Moment of Rejoicing #4

5:00 I demanded of Fred that he stop vascillating and decide what he wanted to do for dinner. He finally proclaimed that he wished not to go out, but rather to have a quiet night in, and order take-out samiches. So my labor-worn fingers dialed the buttons on the phone and ordered dinner. Then I hopped in the car with a kid or two (and I think a small dog) and off we jetted to pick up dinner. No romantic candle-lit dinner, but then again, no cooking either.
Moment of Rejoicing #5

6:30 Dinner consumed, Fred opened presents, with much ooh-ing and ahh-ing over the little gifts the kids and I picked out for him. Wrappings discarded, folks scattered about the house, watching TV, destroying aliens, reading, texting. House quiet and cozy.
OK, maybe it's no pop-star lifestyle. But to me it was
Moment of Rejoicing #6

And I'll take it .....



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Time To Get Busy.

We live in a big house. Even for a family of 8, it's a big house.

The up-side to that is elbow room. I cannot stress how important this feature is in living with 5 teens and 1 preteen.

The downside is the sheer volume of stuff that a big house can accomodate.

If you have even one child, I want you to imagine for a minute how much stuff that child brings into your house in a year's time.

Think birthday party goodie bags. Think stocking stuffers. Think Christmas gifts and birthday gifts and little trinkets from classmates at Valentine's Day and little pressies from their Easter baskets and stuff they've bought with their allowance money like vacation souvenirs and stuff from the school book fairs and holiday shops and trips to the drug store and toy store and grocery store and little prizes from the teacher and the soccer coach and the gymnastics winter show participation medal or the mediocre attendance certificate and the little pretties he or she finds when out on a walk like that really cool rock or that stick shaped like the letter Y or that pretty flower or huge pinecone or tiny acorn and let's not forget about all the beautiful pictures that were drawn or painted or printed off the computer or ripped out of a coloring book or the creative PlayDoh creations or Lego constructs or .....

Yeah. All that.

For ONE child.

I get to multiply that by six.

I know. Whine whine whine. I'm the one who decided to have all these kids, so I need to just hush up.

Anyway, all that stuff mentioned above? It finds its way into every crack and crevice of our home. Till finally the day comes when I shout

ENOUGH!

and it's time to SORT.

So I have everyone fill a box (or ten) with stuff from their rooms and bring it down to the dining room where it sits and ferments for a couple weeks till I can muster the courage to go through it all.

So now I have bins and boxes scattered about the room with labels for Goodwill and the mission, and Planet Aid, and the attic, and huge lawn and leaf trash bags that are getting filled to bursting.

Think I'll finish before company comes for Easter next weekend?

Or should I just take the quicker route and throw a match in the room?

































She's no help. No help at all.

















Give me strength for this task. Just a click of this button helps me more than you can know. Thanks!

Can't Seem to Giterdun.

Still not done building the Hen House so I can move my chickadees to the barn proper, their permenant home. They're getting cramped (read, smelly) in their Chick Shack. And they're just about fully grown. In fact, the most recent bag of feed I bought them was a layer mix, instead of the Start and Grow they've been on the last four months. My babies are getting all growed up. Sniff.

But I still have much to do before I can move them....
Build the gate,
Add three more boards to the sides,
Chicken wire over the rafters up high,
Add chicken-wire covered plywood to the back wall,
Add the bedding and the feeders and the grit hopper and their waterer and their kiddie-pool-filled-with-sand-and-DE-dustbath.

In other words, almost done.

Why is it I just can't seem to get out there and finish it all up?

Is it perhaps that I had to spend hours in the barn the other day undoing the damage Finnegan caused when he accidentally locked himself in the soon-to-be hen house and ripped out all the chicken wire separating hen house from rabbit pen and letting the bunnies loose? (Run-on sentence much?)

Is it because I have to run a kid to summer school every day and kids to various and assorted appointments roughly 40 times a week? (OK, that figure may be slightly exaggerated.)

Would it be that I had to plan and pack for a mini-vacation (girls getaway for me and m'girls) followed immediately by planning and packing for a whole-family vacation the very next day?

I know it isn't because I'm too busy taking care of the landscaping. The way the weeds are growing up around the place you'd think we were on the books somewhere for a demolition.

Hmmmm. Mayhaps it's the supervising of the summer homework my kids have been assigned, including the reading of about a dozen books, a few math packets, chapters from history books, projects for the assigned readings, etc.

Or it could be just all the other "normal" stuff in my life like making sure the kids are doing their chores, checking on the status of the wild feathered and furred critters that chance into our lives, oversight of the 40+ "domesticated" critters under our care, grocery shopping, laundry, and feeding my children now and then.

Why can't I finish this project? No clue.

Ponder, ponder, think, think.....

When I figure it out I'll let you know.

(Summer) Break of Insanity

Just 3 1/2 school days remain.

Then they will be ....
released.

[Twitch]

I used to love summer break.

And I'm not just talkin' about my own distant childhood. I mean I truly and thoroughly enjoyed when my kids were home the entirety of the summer.

The last few years I've been clinging to my old phrases like a child clutching a security blanket.

I could hear the words coming out of my mouth:
"I love summers" I'd say.
"No alarm clocks. No after school activities. No homework, no projects to oversee. No papers to sign, no field trips to chaperone. Just endless days stretching together. Warm sun, the pool, the beach, fireflies, watermelon...."

All spoken while wearing the grin of a simpleton.

But nowadays

[twitch]

when I begin to think of my kids being home
all day
every day

[tremble]

my teeth begin to rattle ever so slightly, and a thin stream of drool leaks from the corner of my mouth.



Oh there are plenty of good times. Many a Norman Rockwell-worthy picture of my kids riding bikes, drawing chalk pictures on the driveway, playing basketball, fishing in our pond, swimming in the pool, laughing with friends. Eating corn on the cob, watermelon. Picking cherries from our trees then gobbling them down and spittin' the pits.

But then there are...

the dark times.

The times they bicker. They whine. They yell and fight and glare. They make faces, argue about whose turn it is to do what, whose turn it is to sit where, who ate their last water ice, whose drank the last of the iced tea and didn't make more.

She's wearing my shirt, he pushed me, she smells bad, are you ever planning to wash your hair, it's my turn to ride shotgun/to pick the radio station/to have a friend come with us to the movies. He broke my goggles, he rode my bike without asking, she's sitting in my spot, she had a friend over last time, it's my turn, it's mine it's mine it's mine.

[cower in corner and suck thumb while eyes glaze over]



And I know nothing really works. Suzy Sunshine Mom makes an appearance for a while with grand ideas about arts and crafts, daytrips and pool games.
But then she blows it with her sing-songy motivational team-building speeches for a cooperative work-together attitude for all the pool-cleaning, weed-pulling, house-cleaning, grass-mowing things on the to-do list.



Then the whining kicks in and Nurse Ratchet Mom moves in. She tries to control the situation with her steel glint, her even tone, her drama-free temperament that is never shaken.






But the kids beat her the hell out of our house and on her heels storms in Roseanne Barr, screaming at the kids, commanding them, out-whining them.









I like Roseanne.

Forget Nanny 9-1-1, who's got a direct line to Roseanne? Mary, my celebrity sister? Do any of your people know any of her people? I would even be tempted to trade in my invitation to see Mr. Clooney at the premier if I could get Roseanne to move in with us for a couple weeks to whip my little b@#*&^ into shape.

Throttle Mode

Poor Bella has had a bad cavity for a while now.
Saw the dentist, who recommended extraction.
Referred us to an oral surgeon who takes our insurance.
Appt made, antibiotics begun one week before the appointment.
Motrin dispensed daily, plus lots of hugs and kisses, to help ease the pain.

Finally the day arrived (yesterday) for the appt and Bella had mixed feelings: trepidatious about undergoing a major dental procedure, thrilled at the prospect of the pain coming to an end.

Picked her up from school and drove nearly an hour out there.

Waited over an hour past her appt time.

She was good as gold, my little angel.

She was finally brought back, had an x-ray taken, and the dentist came in to talk with us briefly. Never looked in her mouth, asked whether we would rather go with a local or general anesthesia. We discussed that for maybe 30 seconds and he sent us right back into the waiting room again.

I was all like, 'what the....?'

Then the receptionist began to ask me when I would like to bring her back.

"Bring her back...?"

"Yes, for the procedure."

"But that's what we're here for today."

"Well, he can't do it now. It's already 5:19."

"What does that have to do with anything? Our appt time was 4:00. And besides which, we've been here for over an hour and we live an hour away."

"I'm sorry, it's too late. He can't do it now. You'll have to bring her back another time. You'll have to understand that's the nature of surgery, you run into unforseen circumstances and it throws the schedule off."

Unforseen circumstances my A**.

So now we've wasted four hours of our day, she's taken a week's worth of antibiotics for nothing, and she's still in pain. Took all the saints in heaven to tie my hands behind my back and clamp my teeth down on my tongue to not rip her and the "oral surgeon" a new one. I had some creative ideas of what I'd like to do with some of the instruments I saw when we were in the exam room.


Grrrrr. Insurance be damned, I know a GOOD oral surgeon a lot closer to home that I'll be calling today.

2 - 12

2:00
Picked up Daniel from school.
Drove over to our other school to pick up Julie and four of her friends for her belated birthday party.
I now have my 11 yr old son, plus five 11 - 13 yr old girls in my car. The girls all immediately begin whipping out cell phones and texting with blinding speed.
All except two: Julie, who asks me for mine so she can follow suit. She doesn't have her own yet but rushes to tell her peers she'll be getting her very own cell phone when 6th grade is over. They kind of sigh in relief. And her friend L, who sits morosely and stares at her thumbs lying lifeless in her lap. She has to wait till her birthday. In August. Collective gasp of horror and looks of pity come from the other girls, who understand that August is a lifetime away.

3:00
Five 11 - 13 year old girls change into bathing suits and jump into the pool.
Two 13 year old girls sit in the bathroom with me as I play nurse, trying to give a lesson in matters feminine so they can join the others in the pool. There are books involved. There are demonstrations and gestures that would make Vanna White proud.
Two 13 yr old girls change into bathing suits and gingerly make their way to the pool to join their friends.

4:30
Seven 11 - 13 year old girls, still wet from swimming, sing happy birthday to Julie. She blows out her candles before we finish singing, then looks up, sheepishly, to explain that she forgot to wait and make a wish. Everyone laughs and finishes the song anyway.

5:30
Seven 11 - 13 yr old girls belt out songs at the top of their lungs as we drive down the road. Windows are open b/c the spilled milk from two days ago still smells like a possum rotting in the Louisiana sun. But nobody seems to care.
I cringe as they scream out pop music lyrics, including but not limited to:
sex in the air, I don't care I like the smell of it
whips and chains excite me
first I'll disrobe you, then I'm gonna probe you
fill me with your love, inject me with your poison
abduct me, I wanna be your victim
I try in vain to educate the girls to the objectification of women but no one's listening so I give up.

6:00
Seven girls carefully select the best seats in the theatre, hold out their paper bags for me to fill with popcorn, and giggle incessantly while they wait for the show to begin. The lights from the screen flicker across their faces in the darkness of the theatre, creating the illusion that they are little girls whose feet don't quite touch the floor. I would never dare share this with them.

8:30
Sit patiently at our booth at Friendly's.
Help girls make their dinner selections.
Try to keep the noise level down.
Play tic-tac-toe and hangman.
Tell them no more inhaling the helium from the balloons.
Tell them no more than two to the bathroom at a time.
Tell them to let go of the drama over the attitude of one of the girl's boyfriends.
Tell them to stop texting each other when they're sitting right next to each other.
Tell them to finish their dinners.
Tell them to say thank you.
Tell them to finish their ice creams.
Tell them to buckle up.
Tell them to open their windows.
Tell them those lyrics are awful because blah blah blah....

11:30
Give reminders about Dorito crumbs in the bedroom.
Give reminders about noise levels after midnight.
Give orders about no sodas.
Give hugs.
Give smiles as the girls tell me this is the best birthday EVER!

12:00
Fall into bed and let exhaustion do its thing.

Doctor Turned Patient

Had to go to the hospital yesterday.

Not to get Fred's medical opinion for one of the kids.

For Fred.

See, James got a dirt bike yesterday. Fred was in the backyard, teaching him how to use it. James was having trouble shifting out of first gear without the bike stalling, so Fred in his infinite wisdom decided to give him a lesson in how to safely shift gears.

No sooner did the sage hop on the bike and get the speed up slightly to shift, then he let the clutch out too fast and popped a wheelie.




I said Fred popped a wheelie.





Yes, that's right.




And the bike went right on over and landed on the ground, pinning Fred's leg beneath it.

He needed help from the kids to get up (I was on my way home from picking Daniel up from school). He needed help to get back to the house b/c he couldn't walk. Got help changing from jeans to shorts (by this time I was home) and saw that the calf muscle on his left leg was hugely swollen and hard as a rock.

And he was in serious pain.

Took him to the hospital where we got him into a wheelchair and escorted him up to his partner's office (no ER slummin' for this doc).

There he got the fun of having all the residents parade on through this tiny office to confirm what they had heard: Boss was in a wheelchair.

We should have strung balloons and streamers from the IV pole of the w/c to make things more festive.

Anyway, Fred will be OK. Nothing's broken. He has a torn gastrocnemius (the aforementioned calf muscle). He needs to keep off his feet, keep the leg elevated, walk with crutches, and use this fancy-schmancy cooling ice pump to reduce the swelling. He's on some hard-hitting pain meds, so he's good. All the docs figured out coverage for the surgeries he already had scheduled and for ICU rounds.

So for now Fred just has to lie back, take it easy, take his meds and keep his leg up while he recovers

FROM HIS DIRT BIKE INJURY.

And you thought I was the crazy one.....

Calling Social Services

Rosie: Do I have to cut up any more of this potato?

Me: Tomato.

R: Yeah, tomato. Do I have to cut up any more?

Me: Cut up the whole thing, babe.

R: Why are you making me cut up the whole thing? I don't even like tomatoes. I'm pretty sure this would be considered child abuse.

Me: Hang on, I'll get the phone so you can call social services.


Me: James, come empty the dishwasher, please.

J: Aww Mom. I don't want to.

Me: Oh, well then. If you don't want to then never mind. I'll do it.

J: Really?

Me: No.

J: Vwy I even have to empty it? You should empty it, it's your job.

Me: I don't think you want to go there, son.

J: It is your job. You have nothing else to do. You should do all the chore stuff. You don't do anything.

*This while I am in the middle of cooking dinner, signing school papers and cleaning a mess off the kitchen counter.*

Me: Well as long as you think I don't do anything, I guess that's exactly what I will do.
Julie, you can stop cooking the meat, James is going to take over cooking the rest of the dinner tonight.
James, when you're done emptying the dishwasher, you can go ahead and refill it, because that's something that I was going to do. But as long as I'm now not doing anything, you can do it for me.
When you're done filling the d/w, I want you to finish browning the meat and while you're doing that you can butter these rolls and then cook the corn and finish the salad.
Of course, when dinner is over, you can clean up and put away all the leftovers and wash out the pots and pans.
Then I guess you can walk yourself the two miles to CCD since I won't be driving.
It's Bella's turn for reading tonight, so don't forget to make time to read with her just before bed.
She should also put some laundry in tonight, so be sure to fold and put away the towels from the dryer, then switch the washer load over to the dryer, and make sure she gathers all her laundry and sorts it correctly. She may need help getting the detergent down.
After that you can oversee that people get their medicine, brush their teeth, take their vitamins, and go to bed on time.
Next, set up the coffee for the morning.
After that you can put the dogs out, put Sophie and Cindy away, and lock up all the doors and turn out the lights.

I'll be sitting back and enjoying all the nothing like I usually do.

J: VWAT?! I'm not going to do all that, are you crazy?! Vwat you think I am, slave or something? I am NOT doing all that work.

Me: You have a choice my friend. Either you do all my work tonight, or you hand your phone over. What's it going to be?

J: VWAT? I'm not giving you my phone!
Grumble, grumnble, grumble....

Starts to load dishwasher. Begins to look around the kitchen at plates and silverware being gathered, meat cooking, salad being cut up, stove getting dirtier by the second.

Walks away from half-loaded d/w and gets phone. While staring at the floor with eyebrows furrowed, hands me the phone and walks away in a huff.

Call ME a slave?

I think not.


*Though I gotta admit, the kid's got a point*

Number Crunching

6: Number of kids that call me Mom (or Mommy or Old Hag)

7 or 8: Number of kids that call me Second Mommy (ie those that know where they can get away with stuff 'cuz I'm too frazzled to notice what's going on under my own roof)

18 - 20: Number of times per day I'm asked 'What's for dinner?"

18 - 20: How often I'm tempted (per day) to inquire about setting up a McDonald's franchise in my own kitchen.

200+: How many gallons of milk we drink in a year

2000+: How many eggs we consume in a year

15 - 20,000: About how many diapers I've changed

20 - 30,000: About how many 'why' questions I've had to creatively and spontaneously answer

Untold hundreds: BooBoos I've kissed and made better

4 - 500: Number of miles I drive per week to take kids to school, pick up sick kids from school, drive to soccer games, the store, the library, appointments, CCD, play rehearsals,......

96: Dollar value of gas my Beulah drinks in less than a week, sucking it like a milkshake through a straw

7: Average number of socks found on the floor on a daily basis

30: Roughly the number of times per day that I have to tell one of my children to let it go-separate-go to your room-say sorry-no name calling-hands off......

50 - 100: Roughly the number of times per day that I have to tell one of my kids to feed the dogs-brush your teeth-take a shower-empty the dishwasher-take out the trash-clear your place at the table-pick up your socks-comb your hair-do your homework-no more screens-elbows off the table-chew with your mouth closed-finish your dinner-no soda-no dessert-turn off the light-flush the toilet-wash your hands-take out the puppy-clean up the puppy mess-whose bracelet is this-whose nail polish is this-whose socks are these-who left these markers out-who was using my computer desk and left a bowl of ice cream on it-whose tape-whose flashcards-whose magazine-whose book-whose turn is it to take Annabelle out-who left the sofa blankets and pillows all over the floor-who left the TV on all night-don't you understand that if you don't do your homework and turn it in you won't get good grades and won't get into a decent college and you won't get a job you like that pays good and then you won't find anyone to love and you'll be just scraping by all your life and die miserable and alone...

Sigh.

Why does anyone love me?

Spittin' Mad

That's right I got spittin' mad over the weekend.

Mad at the love of my life. The man I've been together with through thick and thin (OK, more thick than thin) for nearly 28 years.

Seems every now and again we don't see eye to eye on stuff, and between the two of us, we've got a lot of stuff. When he refused to see my point of view with the crystal clarity I required, I had to choose between:

a) sitting down to a mature discussion over our opposing viewpoints
b) throwin' down in fisticuffs
c) breaking out in a farsical musical number, ala Glee

Since none of the above options really spoke to me, I chose instead to storm out of the house, work gloves in hand, and go directly to the barn without passing Go or collecting 200 dollars.

After mucking out and feeding/watering, I moved headlong into demolition mode.

If you'll recall, I shall soon be in receipt of about a dozen chicks, and I've gotta get that henhouse in order. I've got a place in mind ready for renovation, and a standing agreement with my neighbor Henry to build it for me, but you know those lazy, shiftless Amish. Can't count on 'em for nothin'.

So I started it myself. Tore out about 200 sq ft of old cobwebby chicken wire, removed boards, relocated untold numbers of gutter pipes, vinyl siding sheets, lumber and plenty of what-not up into the rafters of the barn. Transferred piles of old bricks into the workshop, scraped layers of muck and goo and old feed bags from the floors.

I was out there for days with nothing but a bottle of water (later turned toilet).

OK, OK, so it was really only a few hours. And so what if James came out to help me, doing the bulk of the sawing and hammering and ripping and other physical-type manly stuff? It felt like days and that's what really matters.

When we quit for the afternoon we had accomplished a heck of a lot. Or as us country folk say, a bushel and a peck. Way more than I would have if he had not joined my act of lunacy already in progres.

What's more, my head was a tad cooler when I finally re-entered the house. I took a shower, burned my clothes, and changed into some cozy jams, ready for a quiet evening of watching 3 million dollar commercials, interspersed with brief segments of football.

But now, looking back, I can see the error of my ways. All that anger, all that frenzied chaos in the barn.

Next time I feel mad at the hubs, I will pause. I will breathe.

I will take a couple minutes to draft an orderly to-do list and gather the neccessary tools, that I may magnify my productivity by 50% instead of the paltry 20% I achieved over the weekend.

Resolution Time?

I know it's only November, but I'm thinking I already need a resolution, b/c clearly I'm not making the time for writing. Letting life's busy-ness push aside things that are important and fulfilling to me.
So from now on, I am going to say no to some of the should do's and yes to some of the optionals.
Like just today, for example. What I should have done with the kids was put away the patio furniture and cut back some of the plantings for the winter. What we did instead was go to the library, followed by some driveway games, and topped off with a walk into the fields to pet the ponies and do their hair all pretty. On our way back in through the barn, just for good measure, we stopped to pet the bunnies. Minnie was furtive as ever and Alice is just enormous, no other word for it. She's roughly the size of a cocker spaniel at this point.

And know what? I'm not done yet. Tonight I'm taking them out to the movies, goldangit. Just try to stop me.

What To Post, What To Post?

It is such a paradox that my life seems busy to the point that I actually feel winded, yet when I pause for a moment to post to the blog, I've got nothin'.
I mean, I haven't updated in a couple weeks. I should be able to write volumes. Perhaps it's just that it all seems so darn mundaaaane.
After all, where's the fun in writing about parent meetings at CCD? Never mind that I was asked to come to said meeting in error, b/c it was geared towards parents of confirmation candidates. But how do you get up and walk out on the grey-haired director of the religious ed program when she's in the middle of reading scripture?
Should I have written about the day I had to drive back and forth to Wilmington (an hour away) not once but twice in one day? Once for myself (wonder why I need therapy), then another "family counselling" session for all the kids and myself, followed by individual appointments for all the kids of mine with letters behind their names to see the doc (it's med check time). Let's not even talk about the fact that I had to go in yet again last night for one kid's individual appointment and yes, you guessed it, again tomorrow for another kid. Wonder if they'll let me rent a cot in the office?
Are carpool details blogworthy? I'm thinking no. Even though some of us nearly came to blows this week over some misunderstandings of who would be driving whom. No sooner did we get it all sorted out and planned for the remainder of the week then the rest of the practices for the week were cancelled.
I could journal my experience chaperoning the 2 day/overnight field trip to a camp with the 6th graders, but I'm working hard with my therapist to put that all behind me.
Would my readers find it interesting that we had to shell out hundreds of dollars in cavity repairs for our kids this week and we're not done yet? That we're behind on laundry? That no matter where my weary eyes look around this house they find something that should be picked up, put away, paid, fixed, or cleaned? Doubtful.
Perhaps I should detail the decisions I make day to day. Like:
Should I retrieve the runaway ponies this instant or wait until I can put the perishables in the fridge?
Do I drop what I'm doing to put an end to yet another squabble or let them work it out (ie rip each other's throats out like wolves)?
Should I cut all James' curls off like he wants or hide all the scissors?
Keep an iron will for the needed weight loss or give in to chocolate?
Cook a meal or pick up the phone?

So I'm sorry to disappoint, my blog friends, but I've got nothin' for ya'.

Better luck next week .....

Must be doin' somethin' right......

Had a full docket this afternoon. Had to run out for appointments and carpools for about 4 hours, but lucky for me I've got great kids. Julie cooked and served dinner for the rest of the kids. Patrick unloaded the dishwasher and Daniel emptied the kitchen trash and took it downstairs to the garage. All without adult supervision.

If I'm not careful I'm going to be out of a job soon....

Nesting

Is it b/c I'll be getting a "new" kid for a week next month?
Is it b/c one of my "old" kids will be returning home in a few days after an absence of a week and a half?
Or is it b/c deep down I'm a closet OCD maniac who never gets her fix?

Whatever the reason, yesterday was the first honest to goodness day I've had this summer that I didn't have to cart one of the kids off to a doctor/dentist/orthodontist or lesson. I had no groceries to shop, no dry cleaning to drop. I had no vet, no farrier, no wormings to tend to.

So what did I do? I revamped the girls' closets, handing down, throwing out, storing away for later. I overhauled Mission Control in my kitchen where I track appointments and activities, homework, due dates for books and DVDs, and the perpetually incoming permission slips. And I organized to within an inch of its life the arts and craft shelf in our so-called Dining Room (insert air quotes here).



I had all the earmarks of a mother-to-be in her nesting phase. But I know this organizational mania was induced, not by pregnancy hormones, but instead by a rainy summer day while I was one child down and had the soothing sounds of a Monopoly battle in the background as white noise.

Looking around at my house, I need a lot more of those days ......

My kingdom for some chocolate ....

Picking my youngest up from school today, I got a call on my cell phone from my oldest. It seemed demons were flying about the house wreaking havoc and destruction. In my most soothing and wisdom-infused Mom's voice I did what I could to bring a peace over hearth and home, but just before the call vanished in a wisp of static I could still hear screaming and fussing and general unrest.
Nearly out of gas, I pulled into a station and began pouring cash into the tank (it seems to prefer small bills to gasoline) and my ears were immediatley assaulted with pleas for something to drink because of extreme end-stage dehydration.
The "no" was perched on my lips, but then I thought, know what? I could use something medicinal right about now to soothe my frayed nerves.
"Here honey, here's some money. You go inside and get yourself a slushy, and while you're in there, get Mommy some chocolate, would you?"
I went back to pumping cash, but with a wee smile playing at the corners of my mouth, and a slight trickle of anticipatory drool.
I got back in the car just as my child was coming out of the store, purchases in hand. My eyes gleamed.
He got in the car....
He handed me my contraband....
I looked down in the hopes of seeing a MIlky Way, or perhaps a Twix. Maybe even a good old-fashioned unadulterated Hershey Bar. What I got was....
Ultimate Fiber Bar, + Antioxidants.

What the....?

Truth be told, if I looked closely at the package, I could discern bits of what could pass for chocolate mixed in with all that substantial fiber.
But it wasn't what I had in mind. I thanked my child, but couldn't even bring myself to open it.
I headed home to break up the chaos and repair any damaged egos and/or furniture, head hung low.

Guess chocolate and I just weren't fated to be together today.

My hips are thankful, but my lips are holding a grudge.....

A Week of Icky Sickies and More ...

Monday
I had big plans of surprising the kids on their day off school by taking them snowtubing in the Poconos, but the weather was quite nasty. Not cooperating at all. So I had to scrap those plans and take the kids to one of those indoor kid-habitrail places where they climbed, tunneled and slid to their hearts' content for a few hours.

Came home where Fred quickly pronounced his hatred for me. Seems I gave him my cold and he was apparently dying a slow, miserable death. I said, "You mean the same cold I've had for a week?" He looked a pathetic site sitting there with his tissues and arsenal of cold remedies.

Tuesday
Got all the kids to school, but got a call from the nurse an hour or so later that Patrick was sick. Picked him up and took him home where he vegged and recuperated on the couch the rest of the day.

Wednesday
Patrick still sick, so he stayed home.
At one point I asked him to help me get the Christmas tree tossed over the deck for the goats' afternoon snack. Of course he came out in barefeet and stepped on a rusty piece of metal. The thing was about 6" long and about the diameter of a fireplace match. It had gone in through the bottom of his toe and out through the top, on an angle, coming out just next to his toenail. There was about an inch sticking out the bottom and about 4 - 5" sticking out the top. He looked like a distant, mutated relation to Wolverine. Decided I was not gonna touch that thing, so I took him into the hospital where Fred took it out. Patrick was a big boy throughout the whole process and never cried once. Unless you count begging for a milkshake afterwards as crying.
Rosie came home at the end of the day and slept the entire afternoon. We finally woke her up around dinner, but she had a fever and couldn't eat.

Thursday
Patrick back to school (with the metal splinter in an envelope as a souvenir to show off to his friends), but Rosie home sick.
Fred still managing to stumble off to work each day with his cold.
Patrick sick again at night with fever and dizziness.


Friday
Rosie and Patrick home sick.
Rosie has fever, sore throat and swollen glands. Off to docs to check for strep.

Four Days of Fun

Thursday
I awoke to a familiar noxious odor and came downstairs to find that apparently the stomach of one of my dogs had exploded in the night all over the wood floor.
Cleaned it up.

Cooked breakfast for all my chillens.

Got through a relatively easy morning with them until about 5 minutes before the bus came, and then all hell broke loose. Broke up two fights and calmed several people in tears, including myself.

Got showered and dressed. Ah, my good friend had arrived to visit for a few days, what nice timing.

Drove Daniel to school, but on the way he felt that his stomach, too, might explode. Pulled over to do an assessment and decided he seemed fit for school, so got him to school with the promise that I would call after my dr's appt to check on him.

Submitted to my retinal exam which included having several drops squeezed onto each eyeball, then having a stick poked in each eye, then bright lights shone to check my retinas. Stumbled out of there barely able to see.

Called Daniel's school, hoping against hope that he would be OK so I could treat myself to a quiet pampering morning at Borders to spend a gift card I had received for Christmas. That was not to be the case. Daniel was sick, so I drove back to his school to pick him up and take him home.

When checking e-mail, learned from one of James' teachers that he had lied about homework and was in danger of getting an after-school detention.

Took James to an appt with his therapist shortly after the kids got home from school. On the drive there he decided he would be mad at me for not taking him to a candy store, so he stopped talking to me. I had to wonder, fourteen or four?

Friday
Fred left for a conference for several days, so I knew I would be all on my own.
Took Rosie to a middle school dance at Boomer's.

Few hours later, picked up Rosie plus three friends. Drove them home with the car rocking back and forth to their singing and dancing along with the radio.

Nearly hit a deer, having to hit the brakes and swerve hard to the right to avoid it.
Instead of singing and dancing, the girls were now screaming and crying.
For the next hour or so, tried to keep the girls somewhat quiet and contained till I finally succumbed to exhaustion and dropped into bed.

Saturday
Cooked breakfast for 10 kids.

Reminisced with James and Julie. This was the one year anniversary of their arrival home.

Said goodbye late morning to the last of Rosie's friends.

Baked two cakes: one an anniversary cake, one a birthday cake for Patrick and his friends. He was having a party a month early so he could take them out to see Sherlock Holmes.

Patrick's five friends arrived and headed out to the pond for a bit before it was time to leave for the movies. They got in a cattail fight and came in covered in the feathery dust from the disintegrated plants. One of the boys had his shoes (which I later found out were relatively new) nearly sucked off his feet by a patch of deep mud.

Found some pants and shoes for him to borrow.

Headed out to the movies with 7 big boys in my car, Rosie staying home with her friend Lauren to babysit Julie, Bella and Daniel.

Stopped by Wendy's on the way home to pick them up some burgers. One man looked incredulously at our group of nearly 6 feet tall 14 and 15 year olds and asked if we were from a bus. I just smiled.

Tolerated (best I could) the noise and rambunctiousness of the beasts running through my house playing hide-n-seek, video games, and whatever else they could think of.

Brought out the cakes and sang Happy Anniversary and Happy Birthday.

Cleaned up and ran the dishwasher for the 2nd (3rd?) time of the day.

Hid out in my room. Tried to make it through the news but fell asleep.


Sunday
Cooked breakfast for 11 kids.
Said goodbye to Patrick's friends late morning and then orchestrated a clean up before the house could be condemned.

Finally stole away to the computer to treat myself to some reading and writing time.

Enjoyed the idyllic scene out my window of about a dozen neighboring Amish kids playing ice hockey and having races across our frozen pond. Oooh, I just noticed a couple of them are still in their Sunday best. Are they gonna get in troubllllle!



I'll try again next week for Borders. Wish me luck!

Ooops.

Called the Goodyear a few nights ago to make an appointment to bring my car in for its past-due annual inspection. Asked when I could bring it in. The character on the other end of the line, in a husky yet booming voice, said, "For you? Anytime! Just bring it on in and we'll git 'er dun." Mind you, I hadn't told him who I was, so it was hard to feel flattered over this special treatment.

Nevertheless, I brought my car in the next morning since I had an opening in my calendar. After waiting awhile for the man to finish up his conversation with another customer on the merits of his 4-wheel drive, I handed him my keys and told him I was bringing my car in for inspection. He said, "Weeeeellll. You might be here awhile 'cuz we're pretty full up. Might take a few hours 'fore we can git to it."
"But last night you told me I could bring it in anytime."
"Uh, yeah. Apparently I told that to a lot of people"