Haircut

Know what's a really bad idea? Letting your four year-olds watch you trim the fur around your dogs eyes so he can see better. I'm finding piles of dog hair all over the house and little short bald patches all over my dog. Now, raise your hands if you want to come live at my house.

Victory!

Guess who finally passed Level 1 after 6 tries!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Grace was so excited, I couldn't get a picture of her after the lesson because she was jumping so much. Now she's just one level behind Olivia.

Crybaby

The director of our preschool asked me if I would be willing to talk to the parents at the next meeting about what it's like to send your child off to kindergarten for the first time (since I'm such a prolific breeder and have already done it twice).

"I'm sorry, I won't be able to do that," and before she asked why I was dabbing my leaky eyes.

Midlife crisis, here I come, and I damn well better get a new minivan out of it. You know, a cool minivan. So I look young. And cool. Because I'm turning forty the same year I'm sending the last of my offspring into the system. And minivans are cool, just ask Jack, who will be inheriting my old one.

Hey, Al Gore, look at the bright side!

Dear Global Warming:

The past few days, I've secretly loved you. 60 degrees in February, new growth all over the garden, kids riding bikes and playing in the yard. Okay, muddy pawprints on the white duvets in the girls' room isn't my favorite, nor is all the dog/coyote/deer/bunny shit stuck to our shoes from all this outside time, but, you know, that's what all those extra shoes are for, right? Sure, my offspring's offspring will be sizzling from the warming of the planet, but you should see my hostas already. Also, I think our home value will definitely go up when the sea levels rise and our house becomes waterfront property.

See? I'm not grumpy all the time. Today, I'm a silver lining kind of gal. Now I'm off to prune wisteria and clean planting beds. We might even fire up the grill tonight. Jealous, much?

Signage

Coupeville: Where you can get your pastrami on rye with a side of divorce.

God Shed His Grace on Thee

Sometimes, parenting lessons are handed to you on a silver platter. Yesterday was one of those times for me. I love, love, love it when a punishment fits the crime for my kids, because I'm a sadistic, evil mother. Henry has been complaining and whining all week about not wanting to go to his spring music concert, which was last night. It happened to be at the same time as his swimming lessons, and since he hates singing and loves swimming, he obviously wanted to skip it. I put my foot down, we were all going to watch Henry sing! Yay! He also had an afternoon performance for the rest of the school, so I brought the girls to that, because I can't get enough of hearing kids sing about America the Bee-you-tee-full. There was my little Henry, back row center, scowling and not opening his mouth for any of their songs. I was getting more and more irritated with the little shit, and I had my line ready when he came up to me after it was over.

"Well, Henry, I was going to tell you that since I saw your performance this afternoon that you could skip the concert tonight and go swimming, but SINCE you didn't exactly perform, and that was very disrespectful to the teacher and the other students, I guess we'll be going to tonight's concert after all." (BTW, a total lie, we were always planning on going to the concert) He knew he was in deep shit, so he didn't freak out, but I gleefully checked my rearview mirror all the way home and noted his wet eyes and sad clown face. Yessssss!

When I got home and relayed the story to Mitch, his only response was, "So we're going to the concert? Why do I have to be punished for something he did?"

Charlie, that REALLY hurt!

British kids are so much cuter than American kids when they're eating each other.

The only thing missing is Juan Valdez sitting on my counter

Hideous. What kind of woman looks at three different coffee makers on her counter and then goes out and buys a latte from the coffee shop? I'm getting rid of one of these machines. Probably the espresso maker--too many steps. Or not, because I love a foamy latte on Sundays.

Laying down roots

I spent part of Sunday running errands in Seattle. Dropped Jack off at Hunter's, did a Trader Joe's run, Costco, and the Central Market for panko (Japanese breadcrumbs, Marci), and Mitch's Nightwatch beer. I called home to check in from the ferry. Grace got on the phone.

"Hi Grace, have you been having fun with Daddy today?"

"Well, Daddy said he's overhung, so we've just been watching him play the Wii all day."

Nice. I'm just hoping he told his four year-old daughter that he was hungover, rather than overhung. Either way, I'm sure she'll tell everyone at preschool about her weekend.

Yesterday the children flocked to the windows when they woke up. What is that strange bright orb in the sky, they alarmed! Don't be frightened, I told them, it's called Sunshine! As a reward for all their hard work hauling logs and watching Daddy play video games, I took them down to the zoo, and no TV in the car, either. They were damn well going to look out at this beautiful island in all it's sunshiney (Yes, that is a word. Shut up.) glory. We had a fantastic day at the zoo, made perfect by front row viewing of the new baby gorilla, which paralized my children for a good 20 minutes while they watched it roll around. We were all pretty much dying from the cuteness. Henry's favorite thing was a smashed emu egg. He couldn't wrap his head around imagining what an awesome omelette it would make.

Feeding the birds with seed sticks. A couple of birds shit in my hair in this stupid exhibit full of shrieking birds where they shit in your hair.

Why did I take the above picture? Because my big boy is taking my little girl by the hand and taking her to the bathroom while I loaded the car with an orchard, and how cute is that? An orchard, you say? It was such a sunshiney day that I had an urge to garden, but of course it's too early to really garden, but I've been thinking about fruit trees lately. I didn't plant any last year because I didn't want to commit to staying here by planting something that takes a few years to even bear fruit, and of course we'd be long gone by then. So, I guess you could say I'm more or less embracing living here because an orchard did I buy. I was just going to buy one apple tree, but you need two for cross pollination and Henry doesn't like apples he likes pears and emmett kelley sad clown face and you have to have two pear trees for cross pollination and Olivia likes tart apples and Grace likes sweet apples and Olivia doesn't like pears, and guess what! We ended up with a car full of fruit trees.

The sun going down from the car deck on the ferry coming home. The children are oblivious because by this point, I practically superglued the headphones on to their annoying little ears and turned on a movie. That's Jack's sleeping elbow in the lower left corner. He'd been up playing video games with Hunter until 2am, so was a little wiped.

Working their fingers to the bone

We spent the rest of the weekend forcing our free slave labor to work, work, work. Olivia and Jack have turned out to be excellent manual laborors. Grace and Henry? Not so much.

Riding in the trailer with the logs. Because around here, we're real safe with our free labor. I figure if we lose one of 'em on the road, I'll just grab another kid off the pile.

Trying out their new swimsuits. They work! Last night we let Jack babysit for a few hours for the first time. For pay, of course, because he bought a video game and the thought of parting with all that money set his eye twitching. He begged and begged, and you know, twist our arms to hit the local pub? He did a great job by all accounts (no one brushed their teeth, but no one got their teeth knocked out either, so I figure we were ahead of the game). Here is how the girls were when we got home:

Timber!

We (and I mean "I" because everyone knows I do all the work around here) pulled down the remaining trees from the last windstorm today. The boys were supposed to clean the yard of dog poop, and they were almost done with this chore when I realized they were flinging the shovels-full of poop right into the downed trees where Mitch was about to go in and start chainsawing.
The girls worked really hard too, and as soon as I get out of my pj's, I'm going to go help them. I've been trying to get a picture of Grace's new bangs, but she continually tucks them under, so I haven't had any luck.
Oh look! It's Henry! Wearing orange! Some things are comfortably familiar around here. This is also a good shot of Hen's dog butt clipper haircut.

Bangs

Grace and Jack have been looking very scraggly (is that even a word?) in the hair department lately. Well, Olivia has too, but asking her to get her hair cut would be like asking her if she's like to eat a shit sandwich. So we just let her walk around looking like Medusa. Lest Mitch come after the remaining children with the dog's butt clippers, I made an appointment for them with my girl at the place I get my hair done. Grace went first. I showed the hairdresser the picture I wanted her hair to look like (inverted bob, no bangs), and then walked Henry out to meet Mitch, who had just pulled up. As I rounded the corner to where Grace was sitting in the hair chair, I gasped. The bangs that took us four years to grow out were gone, gone, gone. Her hair grows about half an inch a year, and I've never once cut her bangs. I mean, it's cute and all, but my God. Four years down the drain. The poor hairdresser almost started crying and Grace did start crying. I told her she looked beautiful, like a blond Snow White, or her best friend Morgan. And she got to have sparkly stuff in her hair, but I was crying on the inside. Because I'm shallow. If it had been Olivia, it wouldn't have been a big deal, because her hair grows so fast. I'll post a picture tomorrow. It really is quite cute, but now I have to maintain bangs. Oh my God! How long is she going to go on about stupid bangs, you ask? I'm not even warmed up yet, gentle readers reader. I had kept Olivia with us instead of sending her to work with her Daddy in the hopes that she might be persuaded to get her hair cut, too, but after the bang incident, I think she would have cheerfully rather munched on a shit sandwich. Jack's hair looks great, by the way. Exactly the same, of course, just a little less like Martha Stewart and more like Harry Potter. Frigging bangs.

One Hundred

Today is the 100th day of school. It has been my experience that schools generally make a big deal out of this, inviting kids to bring collections of 100 items and having parties (because they didn't have enough Valentine partying yesterday--oh yeah! Some AWESOME kid in Henry's class gave everyone Whoopie Cushions instead of candy. How great is that?). Last year Henry brought 100 Legos. Jack has been too cool to bring anything for the past few years, but usually the kids bring pennies or pieces of candy, stuff like that. This year Henry decided to bring action figures. I'm all, "Henry, there is no way you have 100 action figures. Why don't you try to think of something else to bring, like squares of toilet paper?" He was determined, and set off for his room. 10 minutes later I walked in, and he was sitting in front of two piles.

"Hi mom, this pile is the 100 action figures, and this pile is the extras." Holy crap. We have over 100 action figures. He carried them to school this morning in a little suitcase, amidst all the other children carrying their ziploc bags of 100 little things. If I cashed in all those action figures, they'd be worth, like, two Coach bags on sale.

Happy Valentine's Day. Now give me your wallet.

Okay, so while I do think Valentine's day is a dumb, commercial holiday, I partake, and here's why. While it's nice to say I prefer little tokens of love "just because", they don't usually happen, so if it takes a manufactured holiday for me to get my damned Godivas, so be it. Mitch and I were talking about this last night. Here is his response to this topic, and the reason I use Valentine's Day to my advantage:

"What do you mean, I don't surprise you with tokens of love? Why, I must have brought you flowers twice in the last fiscal year."

Glue and hearts and love and butts

Yesterday we were at the orthodontist's office trying to barter off one of the twins getting some piles of glue added to Henry's back teeth. Really! It's high-tech here on Whidbey Island. Piles of glue prevent his front teeth from coming in crooked. Or so I'm told to the tune of thousands of dollars. I can pick up a tube of glue at Home depot for a couple bucks, so at least when the girls are ready for braces, I'll be ready with the glue and save myself some cash. We didn't have time to go home before swimming lessons, so we met Mitch for dinner at basically the only family restaurant up in Oak Harbor. I won't say the name, but it rhymes with "Crapplebees". And it was, you know, fine enough. Whatever. Eating out is the one thing that really sucks about living here, because there just aren't any good places. Blech.

Today is the girls' Valentine party at school. They were sooo over doing more Valentine's that I just did them myself. They were totally interested in what they were going to wear today, however. This involved kicking each other, pulling hair, slapping, and one well-placed punch that was severe enough that it caused me to get off of TMZ.com to go knock some heads together. In the end, they looked so cute in the red velvet heart dresses and fancy tights and hair-do's that I told Olivia to stand by Grace so I could take their picture. She turned her back to me, stuck out her bum, and said, "take a picture of this." Yes, indeedy, we're going to have a GREAT day!

I pink puffy heart Valentine's day

Valentine's day is dumb (although you're not exempt from bringing me Godivas and flowers, Mitch). I bought a bunch of paper doilies, foamie hearts and stickers, glitter glue, and pink and red card stock for the girls to make their Valentines for preschool. I left them to it, and they used every bit of the supplies: Olivia making Valentines for Daddy, and Grace making giant pictures of her friends giving each other Valentines. Not one card was made for a classmate. I know, I know, better supervision! But I was too busy watching this on Youtube.

So! Next we bought those damn pre-made licensed character Valentines and I laid them all out with explicit instructions: "only write your name on the back. They are for your classmates, and I'll write their names on the front for you. " I left them to it (will I never learn?) and got busy checking out what Britney was up to cleaning the house. This time, I'm periodically checking in. Olivia had a nice, neat stack of them and Grace was diligently working away, adding a little flourish to her signature. They said they were all done, so I went to check. Olivia was indeed all done. Every single Valentine in her stack said, "To Daddy, Love, Olivia". In red marker. Grace had only done one Valentine. It had an ornate scene of her and her friends giving each other valentines, but she said it was for me "since Olivia didn't make you one, mommy."

Trying not to float away

Mitch spent the weekend trying to get that damn tree down without killing anybody. Here he is trying to shoot a rope around the tree with a bow and arrow. What the picture doesn't show is all of us standing at the window, laughing cheering him on every time he missed. In the end, he called a tree service to come take care of it, but I just looked out the window and noticed that the tree must have crashed safely to the ground while I was delivering kids to schools today. I wonder if it made a sound....So, yay! Free money, right? That's, like, the cost of a new Coach bag.
Kim and Anthony spent the weekend with us, and it was no easy feat getting across the pass, but they made it and we had a great time. This is what Kim looked like when she got off the Amtrak bus. Anthony was very sweet about spreading his time around with all his cousins. My favorite part of the weekend was when Anthony said, "Aunt Katie? Oh, never mind, I'm gonna ask Jack because he's smarter than you... Jack? What keeps this island from floating away?"

Headed for the slammer

After swimming lessons last night, I was complaining loudly about a mom in the girls' locker room who was being really mean to her girls. I thought about calling Child Protective Services.

Mitch: "There's nothing you can do about someone being mean to their kids, what's CPS going to do? You don't even know who they are."

Kate: "It's illegal to verbally and emotionally abuse your kids!"

Jack: "If that's true, then I'm gonna call the cops on you guys. I've got tons of emotional scars from your parenting."

Windy miles an hour

If it falls to the right, it could mean the end of the play structure. To the left, it smashes in the treehouse. Right now it's being held up by another tree, waiting for my manly man to come chainsaw it down. There's another tree sharing the root ball that is aiming toward the treehouse. Waah!

Caught in a loving embrace. Today, Olivia told her preschool class that her dog eats poop and that she kisses him on the lips anyway.

How many 4 year-olds can read about princesses and set the table at the same time?

Wednesday already?

Why is it that the instant I turn on the vacuum or hop into the shower, suddenly everyone has something VERY IMPORTANT to tell me?

Also, what's the deal with our appliances breaking, then we either order a new part or get a whole new appliace (refrigerator--you are an asshole), and voila, all of a sudden they're working beautifully. The new motor we ordered for that effing expensive front-loader washing machine is just sitting in the laundry room, waiting for the thing to break again.

The new swimming session started, and we're forcing Jack to take lessons this time, too. His class is all girls, but when he's all wet, with his long hair, he fits right in. Also, he looks like he could use a sandwich. Grace is pissed that her best friend is in Olivia's class, but, not quite pissed enough to actually put her face into the water. Every time Olivia does something cool in the water, she looks up and I wave at her. She avoids waving back until she catches her Daddy's eye, then she waves at him. Because I'm just the lady that is only interesting while vacuuming or showering.

Mr. Mom

On Friday afternoon, Jack got off the bus wearing nothing but a short sleeved t-shirt, shorts, and his shoes. He handed me his report card and then informed me that he forgot his coat, pants, and sweatshirt at school after PE. How can a kid who just handed me straight A's not realize that it's 28 degrees outside and he's fricking cold? Huh? Wha?!? While I was picking Henry up, Jack called me. "Mom? I found my coat and clothes in my backpack." At this point I got a migraine which put me in bed until Sunday. I spent a glorious 36 hours in a narcotic haze while Mitch ran the household. When I finally came to on Sunday and saw what the house looked like, I had an aneurism. Mitch did do some productive things, though:

He gave Henry a buzz cut. I will post after pics soon. It's pretty cute! He did use the dog clippers, which I think were last used to shave Seamus' butt, but are the clippers at Supercuts any better, I ask you?

He also baked bread from scratch, and it was good! He used my Kitchen Aid mixer, but he didn't break it (he also didn't ask for permission--it's my favorite thing I own besides my Coach bag, but whatever--all's well that end's well Pa always said).

He dressed Grace in a purple and orange corduroy dress with pink and red striped sweat pants and didn't dress Olivia at all.

He made chocolate chip pancakes which Olivia seemed really excited about. All in all, despite wanting to chop my head into tiny bits, it was not a bad weekend. There's something totally awesome about being able to act like a sick person when I'm sick. I don't think I've ever done that!

A Distant Third

It's been well-documented that Olivia is a Daddy's girl, but apparently I've been harboring the illusion that I'm at least second in her heart (not that we rank our love around here, because that would be WRONG). So, this morning I was trying to get my youngest three out the door to get Henry to school on time. Olivia and Henry got their coats and shoes on, but Grace was busy playing with the Moon Sand (sand of the devil). I know she heard my repeated instructions, but she simply gave me a glare and kept playing. I'd had enough, so I gathered up the other two, said, "We'll be waiting in the car!" and walked out the door, closing it behind me. My intention was to get them buckled into their boosters and then go back for the naughty one. Henry began to nervously giggle (I've never done anything like this before), but Olivia went nuts on me. She started screaming and ran back to the house for Grace, who was starting to lose her shit as well. Olivia went in and helped Grace get her stuff on, and held her hand all the way out to the car, but not before giving me a look that told me exactly what she thought of my parenting skills. The ride to school was silent, but then Grace said, "Olivia, you looked so beautiful when you came back for me."

In swimming news, last night was their last lesson of the session. They start again next week. Olivia passed with flying colors, Henry and Grace stayed in their levels. This will be the fifth time for Grace in Level 1. The teacher is confident that she will be able to move up just as soon as she stops refusing to get her face wet. Minor detail. Hen is doing well, but he basically had to relearn how to swim, which is why they're keeping him in Level 4. Olivia is a fish, already swimming! It's hard for me to acknowledge how proud we are of her when the other two are miserable about not moving on, especially Henry, who worked just as hard as Olivia. Grace, on the other hand, has made her decision about not getting her face wet, so what can I really say to her? "Good job, Grace, sitting on the stairs at the pool! You looked great in your pink sparkly swimsuit! Way to keep your hair-do intact!"