Puppy

I almost bought a puppy out of the back of a truck at Wal-mart on Sunday. No, I am totally not kidding. They were Golden Retriever puppies! Roly-poly goodness! I talked myself out of it, because, you know, it's puppies being sold out of the back of a truck in a Wal-mart parking lot. The parents of the puppies were also there, and they were sweet, beautiful dogs. I took the kids bowling, but my mind was on the puppies. I went back, but they were all sold.

Wal-mart never fails to make me cry.

Slumber party update

Home at 10:30 pm, yet still woke up at 6:30 this morning. They had a great time, but if the phone hadn't rung when it did, I would have had to go get them anyway, or at least slept in my car in their driveway. No more sleepovers for a long time.

Rah, Rah, panini!

I've been so busy with my panini maker, I haven't had time to write. Or clean. Or do laundry. Mitch bought me a panini maker because I emailed him a link to the one I wanted from Amazon, with the promise of monstrous sandwiches piled high with beef, and oozing cheese and untold goodness. Also, I may or may not have promised other things. A panini maker is basically a glorified George Foreman grill, but this one is so much prettier than a GF grill. It's Italian, and shiny. So, I've been sticking everything I can think of between a couple slices of bread, bagels, or tortillas, and shazaam! Melty, toasty goodness. Is she still talking about making grilled cheese sandwiches? Why doesn't she just get a life?

Hey, at least I'm not still talking about chickens. Mmmmmmmmmmmm. Chicken panini.

Yesterday the girls had their first cheerleading class. I know! I tried to convince them that we are more of a soccer/baseball/panini family than a cheerleading family, but they were not to be dissuaded. They were actually dripping with fatigue when the class was over. Olivia hated the part where they are required to yell, copying the teacher, as she is my shy one, but she excelled at all the gymnastics. Grace loved the yelling part, but, um, being named Grace and all, she didn't exactly get the moves down as shown. They both had a blast, though, and want to go back, although I'm pretty sure Olivia is going to punch the cheer coach if she makes her yell again.

Tonight, they are invited to a slumber party. Seven five year-old girls for 15 hours. None of whom have ever spent the night away from home. They've got the back of my van full to the brim of things from their room, none of which is clothing or toothbrushes. Hopefully, they'll call me to come get them before I attempt to go to sleep tonight, or I'll be sitting up, staring at the light of the clock all night. Mitch is having an even harder time than I am at the thought of his baby girls going to a slumber party. Last night, Grace coughed a little, and he was all, "that's it, there's no way they can go with that horrible cold they've got going." Oi.

Come on over, we're making paninis for dinner!

Lovelovelovelove

My name is Seamus, and I like Valentine's day because I didn't get my anal glands expressed.

A lot of people hate Valentine's day. I don't mind it. We don't make a big deal out of it, but try to make it fun for the kids. I do require a really good piece of chocolate from my mate, but that's about it. I spent the day watching a bunch of 12 and 13 year-old boys making a zombie movie in the woods. Hi-larious. They spent the night last night, and I really can't believe they voluntarily kept going back into Jack's room to edit the movie. P. and. U.

We had a tasty seafood stew and chocolatey dessert. Yum!

Mitch spent the day with his true love: power tools. Olivia tested out the new deep basin sink. She sort of fits.

Love

The sugar is flowing here with all the school parties. The girls' party was yesterday. The morning started with Grace, after trying on seven different outfits, emerged from her room, piggy bank in hand, saying we HAD to go to the store before school to buy chocolates for a particular boy in her class. I was pleased her father had already left for work, and we reached a compromise. She could buy him a candy gram from the PTA fundraiser and sign it as a "Secret Admirer", which had just enough mystery and romance to appeal to her and saved me having to deal with too much drama. Their eyes were glazed in a sugary film by noon.

Last night after dinner, Henry handed me a recipe, titled, "Bruno's Cake", and he told me all about a story his class had read about a bear who had made this fabulous cake.

"I told the class you would make it and bring it to my Valentine party tomorrow!" says my little helper.

Since I can't say no to Henry, because of those damned sad clown oil painting eyes, I resigned myself to do it. I had no butter, so Mitch went to the little store after dinner for a million dollars' worth of butter. I made the cake this morning and it tasted like a brick, but I made it look pretty with powdered sugar and strawberries. Besides, there were cookies, candy, rice crispies treats, and cupcakes to tempt the little second graders with. Henry ate so much crap that he barfed a little into a garbage can, but was stuffing M&M's in his mouth before he got back into his seat. He brought one of his sugared-up comrades home for the afternoon, and Jack also has a few buddies over until tomorrow. I can hear them upstairs, snickering and snorting over the anonymous love notes they got at school.

My husband brought home a garden tiller last week, and mentioned that is was my Valentine's present. Also, as part of the present, he tilled all the chicken shit into the dirt for me. Love means never having to till your own chicken shit, I guess.

Honesty

"Mommy?"

"Yes, Grace?"

"When you lay on the pillow like that, I can't tell which chin is your real chin."

Olivia comes to my rescue:

"Grace! I can't believe you said that. It's always the chin on top that is mommy's real chin."

Chickin's

Yesterday the whole family went over to the mainland to see a chicken breeder. I thought it would be something like a chicken zoo, with all kinds of funky chickens (see what I did there? funky chickens?) to look at, and also I didn't want the boys to buy a bunch of damn chickens, so the girls and I tagged along.

It was nothing like a chicken zoo. Basically, it was a guy with a handful of chickens talking about how to check for the multitude of parasites and diseases chickens can get. I kept slathering the Purell on everyone, but when the dude started talking about how chickens attract rats, I pretty much checked out and went to my happy place. The day was a bust.

Today was spent cleaning in tiaras and eating bananas: