Picking

I took the kids strawberry picking yesterday. Last year, they plopped down into a row and had their baskets full of ripe, juicy strawberries in minutes. This year, the cold, wet weather has wreaked havoc with the strawberries on the island. It was actually work, and the kids whined and complained. We barely filled one basket. Sometimes, those idyllic pictures you have in your mind of how things should be turn out to be crap.

When we got home, I felt the need to console myself with shoes. Now, since my closet overfloweth, I knew I couldn't get away with shopping for myself, and Jack and Henry had absolutely no interest in it, so I grabbed the girls and we sat down in front of the internet. We printed out measuring guides and comparison shopped for about two hours. When all was said and done, we ended up with five pairs, because Grace couldn't give up the red patent Mary Janes (nor could I). Not that I feel the need to justify or anything, but they're going to kindergarten, and they need good shoes for PE, and dressy shoes 'cuz they're girls. And red patent Mary Janes because you're only five once.

The crummy day of strawberry picking was all worth it, when, as I was tucking Grace into bed, she whispered, "I don't think I can sleep, I'm so excited about the new shoes!" Now, that's my girl.

Vacation, IV

The rest of the week passed too quickly, according to the kids. Apparently, they could have used more s'mores and cousins, aunts, and grandparents.


Um, yeah, I broke down. I just wanted to read my book on the deck, so I put on a movie for the girls and sent Henry with his cousins Blake and Anthony up to my sister Kim's unoccupied cabin. The blind leading the naked. I was supposed to be watching them all while my sisters were shopping, but I sucked at it. They covered the place in Febreze and Easy cheese. I periodically sent Jack up to check on them, and while he always came back chuckling, he said, "oh, they're just fine."

"What exactly are they doing?"

"Just, you know, stuff." Whatever, I thought, as I went back to my book. Jack was also reading a book. He had given his cousin Scott money to buy a replacement of the book he left at camp, and he would only read it for a few minutes at a time. When I asked him about this, he said, "Since I had to buy it with my own money, I want it to last. When I'm done reading it, I'll probably reread it three more times, so I feel like I got my money's worth."
More fishing and Easy Cheese. This is the first time my boys had ever sampled the wondrous, orange canned nectar. "It's not as gross as it looks!" was Henry's review.

The last time any of the kids got into the water, after Grace let out a blood-curdling scream that could be heard across the great state of Montana. Apparently, a crawdad had attached itself to her tender little calf, poor thing.

We went to the National Bison Range on our way out of Montana. The kids were most impressed not with the close proximity they were to hundreds of the enormous beasts, but by the size of their poop. Duh!
We drove straight through, a good 13 hours in the car after we missed a ferry. Our house seemed huge after spending a week together in one room cabins and hotel. Hooray for three bathrooms!

Vacation, III

After our lovely hotel stay we spent some time at Glacier Natl. Park. The scenery was breathtaking, and my incredibly mature 12 year-old showed us his Continental Divide (yes, he wanted me to include this picture on the blog).
We did a few other Montana touristy (why yes, that is a word, because I say it is) things, but due to the bats, I missed visiting with my Dad's siblings, so BITE ME, Lake Mary Ronan Lodge! The kids were anxious to get back to their cousins so they could play on the rusty deathtrap of a playground and swim and fish together. As an aside, I couldn't find a coffee stand anywhere. What gives, Montana? Didn't you know I was coming? What, like there's no room for a little espresso machine amidst all the beaded "Montana" belts?

Breakfast in bed in the new, clean, modernized cabin. The oven even had a vent above it!
All the kids caught their first fish:

The people camping in the background behind Jack set up their own little satellite dish and spent the whole time inside their pop-up tent watching tv.

Vacation, Part II.

What is that, up in the corner? Let me tell you alllllll about it. The resort was described as "rustic", which I guess translates to a dump. As we drove in, I was greeted by a gorgeous lake, surrounded by trees and wildlife. My love for the place was soon shattered, however, when we arrived at our cabin. The carpet, I won't talk much about, other than to say I wouldn't let the children walk across it without shoes on. I saw what I thought was a mouse turd in the bathroom sink (it wasn't, but more on that later). Perhaps the worst thing was the used, dirty soap in the shower. All I could think about was where that particular bar of soap might have been. I picked it up with a plastic bag and threw it in the trash, lest one of the kids wash their face with something that had been in a grizzled old fisherman's butt crack. I mean, fine if there's NO soap, but dirty soap? I still haven't gotten over it. The cabin was advertised as having our own private dock. One that, if you stepped on it, your foot was likely to go through one of the rotting boards. I was determined to make the best of it, however, because other than Jack, who recognizes a rip-off when he sees one, the kids were in heaven, surrounded by their cousins, aunts, and grandparents.

I popped and Ambien and gingerly climbed into the bed. A couple of hours later, I was awaked by noises. I thought it was Mitch, hissing at the dog, at first, but then we turned on the light. It was an army of bats, flying about the cabin. The kids were all sound of sleep, so Mitch and I spent the next several hours sitting up, glassy-eyed, with the lights on. The Ambien was kicking my ass, so I tried to drift off while the bats continued to fly about. SPLAT! on my forehead. So, that's what was in the bathroom sink, I thought to myself. Of course there was no sleeping after that. I threw a blanket over my head and ran out to get the laptop. Surprisingly, this place had internet service! We found a nice hotel up in Whitefish and had the car packed up at first light. The resort "suddenly" had a privately owned, beautiful cabin available, which rented for thirty dollars less a night than the bat cave. We had already paid for Whitefish, but decided to come back the next evening to the nice place. The hotel might as well have been the Four Seasons, so stark was the contrast. And the best part?

A Waterslide!

After spending the afternoon swimming, we ordered pizza and crashed in our clean, air-conditioned room with new soap.

Vacation, Part I.

Mitch decided we should throw an extra 4 hours into our journey east by going over the North Cascades Highway. In this way, we could see a lot of dams and scenery. Behold, the mighty Coulee Dam! Henry went into the visitor's center with one goal: to find the dam gift shop and get a dam t-shirt. Unfortunately, there was no dam gift shop. A merchandising opportunity down the toilet, if you ask me. Dammit. In the Coulee area are many little developments where the summer migrant workers live. One of my two favorite sights was a mobile home, with two 6-foot tall concrete lions at the entrance. My other favorite sight was not of a white ice cream truck tooling around the neighborhoods, but a taco truck! Of course I didn't get photos, because Mitch was zooming by too quick. If it wasn't a dam or nature, he wasn't into stopping. Another thing about the North Cascades Highway, is that it's twisty and turny. I handed each child their gallon ziploc, and here is a picture of my girl, moments before she filled that thing half full with mini corn-dogs and whatever else she had eaten for lunch. A little did drip out on her clothes, which we decided to just throw away, rather than pack barfy clothes with us for a week. But, how awesome of her to have gotten most of it in her ziploc? God job, Olivia!
The next morning, we arrived to pick up Jack and Anthony from camp. Jack was a wreck of exhaustion, so I guess it's no surprise that he lost his backpack, water bottle and carrier, pillow, brand new hardcover ($20!) book, and about half his clothes at camp. But they had a great time, and were full of gross stories. The grossest of which, Jack claimed proudly that he had only brushed his teeth once all week. "I kinda lost my toothbrush, but I found it again today. It turned out to be in my suitcase the whole time!"

Learning to ride

The girls have discovered the boys' cast-off bikes. The first time Olivia tried, she screamed at the top of her lungs, "THIS IS THE LIFE!!!!" and proceeded to sing, "I belieeeeeve I can flyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!" while riding around the yard. And, what's cuter than those sparkly shoes against that boy bike? Grace is doing really well, too. She's not quite the daredevil Olivia is, but she's trying. And dammit, we're proud of her!
I will say this about teaching Grace to ride a bike. It helps to have a little, um, help:
The baby Juncos are getting big. They'll probably have left the nest by the time we return from vacation. The kids have learned a lot about Juncos and their nesting habits, thanks to Google. I heart you, Google.
So, I'm all packed. I packed my Senseo coffee maker, too, since we got a power inverter for the car. So I can plug in my Aerobed. That will make camping a lot more palatable. Along with my airbed. And Ambien. I can't wait to see the look on Mitch's face when we get to the campsite and I unpack my ginormous coffee maker! Stick that in your Swiss Army knife, dude.

Twelve

I'm feeling sorry for myself. It's my widdle boy's birthday today and he's at camp. I can't snuggle him or bring him breakfast in bed. In fact, it's pretty boring around here this week without him. Olivia and Grace have taken to punching Henry so he doesn't miss Jackie too much (yes, I just called my twelve year-old 'Jackie', and there's nothing he can do about it). At least he has the mosquitos to snuggle him.

Planning

I've got three lists that I keep adding to for our vacation. One for food items, one for camping/general comfort, one for kid stuff. This is not counting the clothes/shoe list. And Mitch is all, "When I was in the Peace Corps I would head out with nothing but a liter of water, my sleeping bag, and my swiss army knife, and be just fine for days. Why do you have to stress so much?"

I know, right? Like, he should totally go suck a Peace Corps egg. What I really want to do is send him and four young children out into the woods with five sleeping bags, five water bottles, and one swiss army knife, and say, "See you in a few days!" Especially since my children can't make it an HOUR without a fricking bowl of goldfish crackers.

Weekend update

We had Jack's birthday/farewell-before-camp dinner on Friday. Mussels, lots of crab (thank you Gary!), shrimp, and a bunch of other food that nobody touched because we were stuffed with seafood. On Saturday, we had members of Mitch's family and various cousins for the afternoon. The girls all had a great time running full-tilt across the yard, yelling, "CANNONBALL!!!!" and then gingerly stepping into the pool.

These two cousins look like they might be related. You can't really see the giant, bloody goose-egg on Henry's forehead. He now has a scar that matches the one on the other side, so he can tell people it's where we had his horns surgically removed. I won't say how it happened, because Jack doesn't want people to think he's a bad kid for "accidentally" slamming the door while his brother's head happened to be in it.

What is it about boys?

I dropped Jack off this morning at Beth's, who graciously drove three 12 year old boys and her daughter across the state to camp, poor thing. I'm sure she didn't hear the word "fart" once. We're gearing up for our trip to Montana at the end of the week, or as Grace calls it, HannahMontana. I've got my 8 bottles of spray sunblock coming (yes, I order everything online--that is how much I hate Wal-Mart), David Sedaris' new book on CD, a few new DVDs for the kids, and a full bottle of Ambien. The dog has an embarrassing new haircut, which has caused him to become depressed and withdrawn. He's coming with us. If he gets annoying, I figure I can just remove his batteries and stick him under the seat. We've got our house-sitter lined up, and now the only thing left to do is pack, I guess. Mitch wants to take the kids east over the North Cascades Highway and spend the night at Grand Coulee Dam, which sounds soooooo 1973, but whatever.

Nature, baby.

It's nature day here in the country. This morning we had seven deer in the yard. Here's one checkin' out the chicken coop (which the boys had to clean out this afternoon-gross!). The most exciting news is that we've been keeping our eye on a nest in one of my hanging planters. Yesterday, there were four eggs, and this morning, thee babies have hatched. They're so flipping cute. In a gross, naked, blind chicken sort of way.

Look at those hungry beaks! I haven't got the hang of the close-up setting on my camera, but you can sort of make out the other egg and their little open mouths.

"Bitch, get the eff away from my babies!"

Also, I helped Jack pack for camp this afternoon, but I'd rather go hunting with Dick Cheney than relive that nightmare, so just know that I've suffered today.

Wii will rock you

Admit it. You want to party with us.

I've started getting Jack ready for camp. And by that, I mean I've yelled at him a few times to gather up all the dirty clothes in his room so I can wash them. Not so he can wear them at camp, but so he can come home with a suitcase full of clean clothes after wearing the same outfit all week (oh my God, mom, boys do not wear "outfits"!). Although last year, he came home a suitcase full of clothes that were covered in duck shit. They hadn't been worn, of course. Can that be considered progress?

Today I was hanging out at a friend's (Yay! I made a friend who doesn't think I'm going to hell because I haven't been "saved"!), when Jack called. "Mom, there was a guy here knocking on the door, and now he's walking around the house." I left the kids with my friend and drove home going 85mph in a 20mph zone, hoping the cops would follow me. It turned out to be the pest control guy. He had just finished spraying toxic chemicals around the perimeter of our house, including the kids' garden. Woops! He had the wrong house. Now we don't have to worry about carpenter ants, and who cares if my grandkids are missing a few toes and fingers? I'm glad I put so much effort into hand weeding so my children wouldn't be playing near chemicals. But the good news, he assured me, is that he wouldn't charge me, since he had the wrong house. I'm so lucky!

In other news, Henry no longer has to wear his headgear. Can I get a Woo Hoo!? However, instead of attaching Hen's mask every night, now I get to stick a pokey-key-thingie in Jack's mouth and turn the crank every few days. Also, I LOVE Ambien, and so does my family. I'm all nice now that I get more than four hours of sleep a night.

Well, I mean nice for me.

Electronic dog

Seamus has one of those wireless collars that beeps if he gets too close to the perimeter of the trees surrounding our property, followed by a jolt (if he keeps going) that makes him fly sideways into the air and make a sound that is rather, um, uncanine. For all you animal-rights tree huggers, know that if he left the property, he'd be coyote bait. Also, he's only had to get shocked once or twice before he learned his lesson. Heck, I've even got shock collars for the kids in case they get too close to my dark chocolate stash. I digress! Today, he began barking like crazy at a group of deer in the yard. I opened the door for him, because they were eating my wild lilacs. Well, he ran out, they ran away, and he kept right on following them down the driveway, past the perimeter.

"Uh oh," I said, "It looks like Seamus' battery is dead."

"SEAMUS HAS A BATTERY?!!! DO ALL DOGS?" My wide-eyed, angel Grace asked.

Happy Birthday, America.

We didn't do much for the Fourth of July. The girls were at a playdate last week, and AFTER I picked them up, the other mom casually mentioned that her girls both had a highly contagious skin virus (I know! And if you know me at all, you know I have a thing about germs, dude). I fuh-reaked and ran home to consult Dr. Google. I don't think my little ladies contracted it, but I didn't want to take them to the waterslide party we'd been invited to, just in case. We had a lazy day, aside from Grace asking all of us to be her groom so she could get married over and over. God Bless America until Death Do You Part and all that. She's wearing my actual wedding veil (not including the pastel bows she put in for a little flair). She had been using a white towel on her head, and I thought, what the heck am I saving this for? With any luck, I won't need it again.
The kids didn't want to wait until dark for fireworks, so we did them at dusk. The girls kept a safe distance, but clapped spontaneously after each explosion:

And then Mitch decided to paint the house.

Poison ick.

My darling oldest boy is covered on his knees and elbows in an unsightly, itchy rash. While we were in the doctor's office, Henry started moaning about his stomach hurting.

"Do you need to use the bathroom?" I asked.

"No, I think I just need to sit down for a while and fart," Says my charming second born.

Jack has poison oak, which is a good excuse for us to stay inside and play RockBand all day.

Summer. Finally.

Recovering from an immunization shot. Except for Henry, who smirked at the twins as they tried to climb the walls of the doctor's office while screaming. Karma, the lovely bitch, sent a wasp to sting him on the arm, though.