Happy St. Paddy's Day!

An Irish priest and a Rabbi get into a car accident. They both get out of their cars and stumble over to the side of the road. The Rabbi says, "Oy vey! What a wreck!" The priest asks him, "Are you all right, Rabbi?" The Rabbi responds, "Just a little shaken." The priest pulls a flask of whiskey from his coat and says, "Here, drink some of this it will calm your nerves." The Rabbi takes the flask and drinks it down and says, "Well, what are we going to tell the police?" "Well," the priest says, "I don't know what your aft' to be tellin' them. But I'll be tellin' them I wasn't the one drinkin'."

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One day an Englishman, a Scotsman, and an Irishman walked into a pub together. They each bought a pint of Guinness. Just as they were about to enjoy their creamy beverage, three flies landed in each of their pints, and were stuck in the thick head. The Englishman pushed his beer away in disgust. The Scotsman fished the fly out of his beer, and continued drinking it, as if nothing had happened. The Irishman, too, picked the fly out of his drink, held it out over the beer, and started yelling, "SPIT IT OUT, SPIT IT OUT YOU BASTARD!!!!"

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One night I was chatting with my Mum about how she had changed as a mother from the first child to the last. She told me she had mellowed a lot over the years: "When your oldest sister coughed or sneezed, I called the ambulance. When your youngest brother swallowed a penny, I just told him it was coming out of his allowance."

(This isn't really an Irish joke, but it pretty much sums up the evolution of my own parenting style.)

We've seen owls, eagles and falcons, deer, rabbits and lots of little critters. This is what was in our front yard this morning.

"Quick, go get the cat, he looks hungry!"

We go through this every day. O hugs and kisses Dad goodbye. He gets in his car, she cries and has to go out and hug him goodbye again. Then, after he pulls away, she thinks of all the things she forgot to say to him, and cries some more. She sits by the window, saying, "I wish Daddy didn't have to go to work all the time," all the while shooting me looks of death as if it's somehow my fault.

Hey, somebody has to sit around eating bonbons...

According to my daughers, this is what their room would look like in a perfect world. When they saw this photo, they were very indignant that they only had a handful of ponies.

M get's trumped! Grandpa had a little melanoma removed (prognosis good!). I shrunk this picture a lot to make it a little easier on the eyes. My sisters call him Mr. Melanoma Head.

M: Great, now he has something to lord over me. A better scar.

H: AWESOME! He looks like a pirate.

O: That hurted. But he still looks like Grandpa and I like him a lot.

G: What did he do that was naughty?

No wonder they never eat the pizza after it's made. In this photo O has 9 pieces of pepperoni in her mouth. I had gone out to the garage to get some wine and when I came back, G had picked all the cheese off the pizza and stuffed it in her mouth.

On Saturday J woke at 4 am, excited to see his good friend Dylan after many months. I put on my jeans and we drove down to Seattle to pick him up after running a few errands. We were home by lunchtime, and after we settled in I called the kids to lunch. Dylan gave me a sorrowful look. "Are you sick?" he asked.

After exchanging puzzled looks, Mitch figured out what he was talking about.

"No, Dylan, Kate always wears pajamas when she's at home."

After spending 20 minutes negotiating with G about accessories and outfits for the day, including her needing her nails polished, I gave her and O a little lecture on "natural beauty".

Me: "Natural Beauty is when you have a kind heart and personality. You don't need fancy accessories or nail polish or sparkles, because the beauty you were born with shines through."

O: "That sounds good."

G: "Why would anyone want to be a Natural Beauty? I don't want to be a Natural Beauty. I want sparkly things and make-up. Olivia, you can be a Natural Beauty, and I'll be a Fancy Beauty."

M: "I was talking to some people today. We could get a rescue horse for the girls and it would cost next to nothing to build a little stable for it. blahblahhorsesogreatforhtekidsblahblah."

Kate: "If you get a horse I'm getting a lawyer."

Needless to say, we will NOT be getting a horse.

I started this blog to keep family and friends informed about the goings on in our little corner of the world, but I would love little updates about your families. I only JUST found out that my nephew Dillon snuck out of the house a few weeks ago, complete with shoving things under his covers to make it look like he was sleeping. And that his sister, the adorable Mackenzie, had her first confession and couldn't think of anything bad to confess, so she stole her cousin Anthony's antics and used them as her own for the priest. I don't even know what these antics were, KIM....

Having two identical cowgirl shirts has made my life so much easier. Now, if O MUST get out of her pajamas, she has something to wear. On top anyway. Despite the fact that she eats something every waking hour, she's too skinny for all the pants that are long enough for her. If I had one vanity-inspired wish for myself, that would be it. I might even wear regular clothes every day instead of pjs. Or not.

Wednesday I met M at Home Depot to pick out light fixtures for our bathroom to replace the brass movie star lights. By the time we walked out of there, he had me convinced we needed to gut the entire bathroom and start from scratch, despite the fact that this house is only 10 years old. What the @#$%&*? I have since come to my senses and will be ordering some new lights online so he doesn't blindside me again. Last night he started getting excited about building the boys a treehouse, and as long as I can keep that enthusiasm outside, I'll be happy.

A few days a week H has to ride the kindergarten bus to school. He doesn't like it, because it takes about 45 minutes to pick up all the kindergarteners, and he's first on, so it's a very long trip. I asked him to describe the trip to me.

H: "Well, it's boring. You can't play with any toys from home, and when we get to school, we have to stay in our seats until the bus driver wakes all the kids up, which takes a long time because most of the kids are asleep."

That does sound boring.

My Lucky Day

My lucky day started by trying to shock myself with the dog's electronic fence collar. The damn dog runs right through the so-called electronic fence every day. Out of frustration, I held the thing against my wrist. You test baby bottles there, I figured it'd be a good place to try it out. Nothing happened. I turned it all the way up, still nothing happened. I called the manufacturer and she had me do a few things, and it turns out, the thing was defective and NEVER worked, so they're sending me a new one. Also, this means my dog isn't retarded. Lucky!

I ordered three pairs of shoes online yesterday. One for me and one for each of the boys. We love KEENs shoes, because they're waterproof, easy on and off, and comfy, and we tried out a new website. I guessed wildly at the shoe sizes for the boys. They arrived TODAY! Less than 24 hours after I ordered them, and all shoes fit perfectly, with a little grow room for the boys. Lucky!

I went to the doctor, because after almost 4 months of burning, excruciating pain in my hip (bursitis, I know I will get AARP jokes out of this), and not being able to sleep, I just couldn't take it anymore. I got a nice big shot of steroids in my hip, and voila! I feel like a young lady of 38! Lucky!

I am required to make a fancy dessert for a dessert auction our preschool is having next weekend. I don't feel like slaving away just so some damn kids can have scholarships, so I called a chic restaurant to see if I could order one for the event, and they are donating one for free! Lucky!

I went downtown to get a latte, got a free chocolate covered espresso bean, and DIDN'T see the Catman. LUCKY!!!!!!!!!!

I told M to buy a lottery ticket on his way home tonight. We'll see if my luck holds out.

Today at circle time during preschool:

G raises her hand.

Miss Tami: "Yes, G...?"

G: "Miss Tami, I got a big owie on my hand from my closet door. See it?"

Miss Tami: "Ouch, G... that looks like it really hurt!"

G: "Well, it did, but Daddy put my hand on his cold beer so it would feel better."

Yes, I think our family is really creating a niche for ourselves here in Coupeville.

Coupeville first aid:

G shut her hand in her bi-fold closet doors, making a very red line on her hand. M's solution? He had her keep her hand on his cold glass of beer. Except when he was taking a sip of it, of course. See ya at the trailer park!

Today was a busy day. J had the Whidbey Chess tournament this morning, and he handily won all his games, which I think helped ease the sting of missing "praline" in the spelling bee. Then we went to the Penn Cove Mussel Festival downtown, where we ate lots of mussels and went on a boat tour of the mussel farm, which was really interesting. There were about 8 sea lions resting on the mussel rafts. Then we went to the Ice Cream Shop which was finally open. G picked pink ice cream to match her dress. H gave J a long, shit-eating grin and ordered "PRALINE ICE CREAM PLEASE!" When we were outside, H offered J a taste. J took a lick. "Tastes like defeat," he said.

The girls had the tooth fairy come to their preschool today. She was full-on fairy-fied, too. Huge pink, glittery gossamer gown with layers and layers of ruffles and rhinestones, crown, wand, little purse full of fairy dust. She was there to talk about dental hygeine.

Kid 1: "I have a loose tooth!"

Kid 2: "My brother lost 6 teeth already!"

G: "Where did you get your gown?"

Kid 3: "My mom had a cavity."

G: "Where did you get your shoes?"

Kid 4: "I brush my teeth every day by myself."

G: "Where did you get your tiara?"

Kid 2 again: "My brother got 2 dollars from you!"

G: "Do they make those dresses for 3-year old girls?"

M: "I'm going to get a riding lawn mower."

Kate: "This piece-of-crap dresser makes me cry every day, because I can't open the drawers."

Later that same day, my man brings me home a new dresser, that I didn't pick out (and anyone who knows me knows I'm a tiny bit picky). The dresser is lovely. Beautiful hardwood, dovetail something-or-other, blahblahworkmanshipblahblah. NOW he can get his damn riding lawnmower.

Another striking difference between Coupeville and Shoreline:

The girls go to co-op preschool, which means I spend a few days per month working in the classroom. At the co-op in Shoreline, we weren't allowed to bring coffee to school, for fear of burning the children and lawsuits, and each working mom was designated to a specific work area. My job on Monday was the "float" mom.

"What are my duties as the float mom, Miss Tami?"

"Oh, the float mom takes the coffee orders and goes to the coffee shop for the other moms."

M: "I read your blog today."

Kate: "So how'd you like it?"

M: "It wasn't very funny. I was planning on taking down all those pictures and recentering them. You totally ruined the composition between the light fixture, the stairs, and the wall. Now there's probably too many holes in the wall already."

Update: Hunter's expander was found, in his own garbage. At home. Not my garbage, which I went through, searching for it. All 32 gallons of it. Mussel shells, food, barfed-on paper towels, and general garbagey garbage. You owe me, Hunter.

Well, our little party is over, and crazily enough, nothing too unusual happened. Hunter lost his astronomically-priced orthodontic gear, someone puked, someone enjoyed dressing in princess drag, 3 gnomes and a leprechaun were found, there are tiny legos in all the upstairs window-wells, a dish got broke (by me, of course), 15 pounds of mussels were consumed, H is very excited to see how much money he collected in his "Make a Wish" pond, all the shoes in my three youngest childrens' closets mysteriously are missing shoe laces, and we have about 2 1/2 cases of beer leftover (yay!). The house still looks hungover, and so does the yard, as we had a group of little elves hauling logs all over the place when it was time to build a fire in the firepit. Why don't children work like that when it's time to clean up their toy messes? Things are slowly getting put back into place as we hunt for the missing orthodontic mouth piece. Anyone seen a blue plastic mouth-shaped case?

This is how we reward Man's Best Friend. Last night, we were watching "Weeds" and there was a rat on screen, very unexpected and very close-up. I screamed (unnatural rodent phobia) and Seamus came tearing upstairs, ran over to me, saw that I was okay, inspected every inch of the room, and spent the rest of the night guarding me. I never even liked dogs before we got Seamus, but ya gotta love that. Whenever the kids go outside to play, I just send Seamus with them if I'm doing dishes and can only watch from the window. He always stays right near them.

Now, the scabby cat is the worst pet ever. She's allergic to everything and has gross scabs all over her skin. She does all sorts of gross stuff. She won't eat any of the expensive cat food from the vet, she only eats dog food. Even O has stopped petting her, because she's just cranky and icky. M wants to tie bacon around her neck and build a little platform, tying her paws to it as a little sacrifice for the coyotes. She's spent a few nights outside but always makes it through the night. We figure she's like the moldy cheese at the buffet: even the coyotes turn up their noses...

O: "Mommy, I really, really, want a cowgirl shirt."

O has always loved horses and plays with her little Breyer horses and corral a lot. G examined the riders one day, but she didn't like their outfits, and that was about it for her. So, O and I go online and she found a pink shirt with horses all over it with pearly snaps that she fell in love with.

G: "I want one too!"

Me: "G, I don't think you'll wear this. Look carefully at it and think about what you would wear with it."

G: "I WANT ONE TOO!!!"

Me: "How about we look at the other shirts and you can pick one out that you love?"

G: "I want one just like O!"

The package arrived today. O put hers on and has been spending a lot of time in front of the mirror, admiring her new cowgirl self. Definitely money well spent. For her.

G took one look at hers, picked it up gingerly between her thumb and finger as if it had shit smeared all over it, said "Ugh" , and tossed it onto a pile of dirty shoes.

We went out to dinner last night to celebrate J's good sportsmanship in the spelling bee. No, this is not like a "Wall of Mediocrity" like in Meet the Fockers. Anyway, despite the service being terrible, the children were well-behaved and ate every bite of food in front of them (even G).

That's all. I just like to report on the unusual.

The Whidbey spelling bee was tonight. Poor J, who knew every single word, got eliminated when the announcer pronounced the word "praline" like "prah leen" and J thought she said "prowling", but the rules are clear. It is up to the speller to make sure he has the correct pronunciation and meaning of the word before they begin spelling. He was awesome about it, just shrugged it off and laughed it off. We were making praline jokes all the way home. I'm such a proud mama. It was pretty fun to watch the Spelling Bee. There was this one obnoxious kid and J and I were on pins and needles waiting for him to miss his word. When he did, he did not disappoint. He had a full-blown tantrum, started crying and stomping around, and slammed his nametag down on the table in front of the judges. J and I were delighted. The rest of the kids were very good sports, clapped and cheered for each other, and were generally very nice. And what is it with babysitters these days? I left a simple list, which included reading bedtime stories. Did anyone get read to? No. They watched How to Eat Fried Worms. I hear it's a neighborhood favorite. Frickin' praline.

It doesn't get much more small-town than this. We ordered How to Eat Fried Worms for the boys from Netflix, and it was supposed to arrive last Thursday. By today, it still hadn't come in the mail. Around noon, the doorbell rang. It was my neighbor with the movie. He said he'd had it over the weekend, checked it out and it wasn't too bad. I am not even kidding.

To be fair, he did climb 20 feet in the air to painstakingly paint the walls that I recklessly put nail holes in. With his bad knee and shoulder. Ten miles in the snow. I offered to do it, but he indelicately said I was too clumsy AND I didn't know how to cut in. Men are so funny. Don't they know if you fall a lot and mess up the job when there's manual labor to be done, they'll ban you from helping? Which just gave me an idea. Tonight I'm going to ask Mitch if I can use his Dewalt (no, you don't just call it a "drill" for crying out loud) so I can install the girls' coat hooks. That should put a fire under his ass to do it himself. God, I'm amazing. No wonder he married me.

So we're having a housewarming party this weekend, and we've been trying to get ready, but not too ready. Meaning, cleaning this house is like trying to shovel the sidewalk during a snowstorm. Fortunately, I have two boys who like to keep things neat, so their rooms are generally clean. If I could just figure out a way to neutralize that shaggy dog and two-ten-year-old boys sleepover smell in the corner bedroom...

I have a bunch of photos (even from before we moved to Shoreline, where they never even got unpacked) that I've been wanting to arrange and hang. My two choices: ask M, the handyman, to do it, or do it myself. M would be happy to do it, and he would go out to the garage, pore through six boxes looking for his laser level, find some old comic books, read them, stop for a snack from the food storage area, remember he wanted to set up his surround sound, and "Oh look, here's some extra speaker wire!" Then, he'd carefully put the photos into the new frames, making sure each one was centered on the mat with some damn tape that doesn't age or some crap like that. He'd get out his laser level, his measuring tape, and a pencil, measuring each individual frame so that it had the EXACT same space between the next frame. He'd hang a drywall screw, and a picture hanger, so no acts of God or child could make the frame fall. One frame I wanted to keep was broken, and for the last year he's been meaning to fix it, but it "required a trip to Home Depot and some vise grips". He would also make sure the frames were a solid hardwood, not some "piece-of-shit" pine.

Here is what I did. Went to Oak Harbor, bought 8 picture frames, all the same, in painted wood (most definitely pine, unless there is a cheaper soft wood). Squeezed some Elmers and nailed a small tack into the broken frame. Slapped the photos into the new frames, nailed some holes, some were a little off, re-nailed, and Voila! My pictures we up and hanging in the time my adoring husband would still be unravelling that extra speaker wire in the garage. I did it while he was at work, because he NEVER would have been able to endure watching me MOVE A NAIL over half an inch, even though the hole would be covered by the picture. The moment he reads this I bet he'll rush home and inspect the walls behind the pictures.

I have some coat hooks I bought two weeks ago that are still waiting for M's special hardware before they get hung. God knows a 3-year-old's coat is SO heavy it would probably pull the hardware THAT CAME WITH THE HOOKS right out of the wall.

VIVA LA HANDYWOMAN!

Mange Syphilis

Salmonella

e.coli

I've discovered this website: giantmicrobes.com. They sell these darling stuffed versions of horrible diseases. My favorites, from top to bottom: Mange, Syphilis, Salmonella, e.coli. Only $6.95!

G: "Mommy, my nail polish is ugly. Will you help me fix it?"

Me: "No."

M: "Then will you help me clean the garage?"

Me: "I can't, I have to help G fix her nails."

New Toy

She looks so innocent. The reality of this picture went down like this:

I heard a noise from upstairs when the girls were supposed to be napping. I went to investigate, and there was G in my bathroom, calmly painting her fingernails, as well as the tile on my tub.

"G!"

"I can't sleep mommy!" continues calmly painting nails (with my Christian Dior nailpolish, I might add).

"G! There is nail polish all over the place and you're supposed to be in bed!"

(sigh) "I told you. I can't sleep, and there's only a little spot on the bathtub and I'm sure it will come off with cleaner." finishes up her last little fingernail and holds them out to admire them, oblivious to the steam coming out of my ears.

"Okay, G, you are no longer allowed to take a nap in my bedroom and now you must go and sleep in H's bedroom." (They aren't allowed to nap in the same room--a story for another time).

"That's fine, mommy. I need to let my nails dry anyway."

Wolf Urine: Because you can't fool Mother Nature.

For those of you who have yet to get your Valentine a little sumpin' sumpin. Here's the thing. I really need to figure out how to keep the deer and bunnies from eating my herbs. I can't just grow them on my windowsill, because that would be one more thing to water, and I am already watering five people and two animals. So I'm thinking about this wolf urine. It doesn't tell in the description if I'm supposed to drink it or spray it on the theiving deer. Maybe I'm supposed to fill a bucket with it and rig it to the top of the garden fence, so when they creep past the gate, SPLASH! But then I think about Henry and how he'd trick the girls into going into the garden, and, well, you know the rest. By the way, I found this on Amazon!

Through the miracle of commercial advertising, the girls have decided they want Bratz dolls for their birthday (yes, I know it's months away, but they kind of plan things they want between Christmas and their birthday). I downloaded this picture off the internet for those of you that don't know what a Bratz doll is. G was moaning to me about it yesterday, and I kept saying, no, I won't allow dolls in the house that look like that. "Like what, mommy?"

"Like little tramps, G." Of course she doesn't know what a tramp is, let alone what one looks like, but I'd been painting all day and she really has a knack for bringing me to the edge sometimes.

(Loud sob) "BUT I WANT A DOLL THAT LOOKS LIKE A TRAMP!"

G is lately obsessed with patterned tights. She won't wear plain ones and we only have two pairs of patterned ones. I've been trying to locate some (at least that's what I tell her while I try to wait out this little trend), but size 5t tights "with pretty things on them" just don't fall out of trees in Coupeville.

So on Thursday, we were in the pharmacy waiting for G's ear antibiotics. She was miserable and sitting on my feet at the register. A woman of advanced age came in wearing shorts (!). Gwas fascinated by the age spots on her legs, then says, "Those are nice tights with things on them! Why don't you ask the lady if she got them in Coupeville, mommy?"

And may I have some narcotics with this antibiotic, sir?

When we first moved here, Jessica and I discussed all the possibilities that abound when living in a wilderness area. She had the great idea of hiding little statues around the property for the kids to find. Last week in Seattle I was at Ross looking for a variety of Ross-type stuff and I found an entire aisle devoted to garden statuary of the wonderful tacky variety. I got these two guys (yes, that gnome is riding a turtle). The kids have yet to discover their whereabouts, though...

You may be thinking, Basho the Sumo Wrestler table? Garden Gnomes? Giant antique whales? What's happened to the formerly citified Kate? Has she gone trailer park on us? Yes, I guess I have. But it was probably always in me. I draw the line at pink flamingoes, though. They're so 1985.

On Wednesdays, when all four children are in school, I've been meeting my husband for lunch. We ususally do a little shopping, too. This week, we went into an antique store and both spied this old whale. Since it cost considerably more than Basho the Sumo Wrestler Table, we decided to walk away.

HOWEVER, last night when I came downstairs from cleaning up dog pee off of the puzzle the boys and I had been tirelessly working on (run on sentence), there it was on the dining room table. Awwwww. He loves me. And I love this whale. Since our intention is to hang it in our 24 foot entry-way, though, we have no idea how a gimp and a disaster-prone klutz are going to get it up there.

Yesterday we were back at Whidbey General, our home away from home. G had a terrible ear infection, but is back to her constantly chattering self now. When we got there, the girls recognized it.

G: "Oh, this is Daddy's hospital. MYEAROHMYEARITHURTSMYEAR!!!!!!"

O: "I don't like this place."

G: "Daddy had holes in his face here."

O: "With blood falling out of him."

G: "MYEARMYEARMYEAR!!!!!"

Happily, M no longer has blood falling out of the holes in his face and he's really getting around now.

Island County Sherriff's Report:

1/31/07 At 1:35 pm, an Oak Harbor caller reported a giant llama running around in the pasture next to the roadway on the right side of Monkey Hill Road.

2/2/07 At 7:22 pm, a NW Second Avenue resident reported that his estranged wife hit him in the eye.

1/28/07 At 3:19 pm, a woman reported that her ex-boyfriend took a swing at her while he was shopping at Wal-Mart with his wife.

Henry gets ahold of the dollhouse and helps make it look much closer to reality. I added the lady of the house in the bottom of the picture. She's, um, cleaning the oven.

One would think Olivia would be the easy daughter to get dressed every day. Not so. It's worse every morning, which is why I dread going places because she'd be happy just to wear pj's all day. Right now she is screaming on her bed, "THIS IS THE WORST DAY EVER!" because the outfit that took 20 minutes for her to pick out isn't what she envisioned.

Grace's criteria for an outfit: fancy.

Olivia's criteria: 100% cotton, but also fancy (as every woman knows, this combination doesn't exist), the top has to match the bottom in every way, she won't wear a sweater of any kind, so short sleeves are out, tights can't be too big or too small, no layers. A dress is acceptable with leggings, but not tights, because her "chest feels weird" with tights and a dress. Some days, if I'm very crafty, I can put her in front of an engaging tv show and slip on cotton leggings and cotton shirt without her even noticing. Today is not one of those days.

Granpa and Grandma D gave the girls these GINORMOUS Mickey and Minnie dolls last week. As luck would have it, some furniture arrived at the same time in these coffin shaped boxes. So luckily, our TV room is now a little hospital/morgue/dorm room depending on the girls' moods. As they get pushed around in these boxes all day, I am continually tripping over them in my, uh, rush to unpack the garage. I'm thinking about a proper sailor's burial at sea. We could actually push them accross the road and they'd probably slide right down the hill into Saratoga Passage. But then, they'd have to cross a private beach and Jack would never allow that.

I've been pretty tired and feeling guilty about not cleaning much, but I found a way to gain a real sense of accomplishment. I cleaned and organized an entire house in just 45 minutes, while spending quality time with the kids instead of Access Hollywood. Here are some sample rooms. I can assure you there are no hard-water stains in that toilet, baby. Please take a moment to note a healthful but hearty stew, gently simmering on the stove, and just out of sight is the lady of the house, hair perfectly coiffed, wearing a neat skirt, heels, perfume, and no finger paint on her freshly ironed blouse. A pleasing aroma of spiced apples fills the air.

While I worked on the "house" Henry led the girls in some kind of toothpick and scotch tape craft. I think they were making ladders for the doll houses. I can't begin to describe what my kitchen looked like when they were done, and my camera battery is depleted. As is my tape. As are my toothpicks.

So today I went to Seattle by myself for the whole day. I had a ton of errands to do, but I didn't realize it was the Saturday before the Superbowl, and it was crazy everywhere. There was even a mad rush on Veggie Booty at Trader Joes, leaving none for me to buy (Sad faces of twins here).

Everywhere I went, I would chat randomly with people, until I was clued in to the fact that I still had my "island" face on. Here, everyone just chats with you in the shops like you're actually out shopping together, but I learned today that people in Seattle will assume you're off your meds and back away slowly if you start chatting them up. I would say "my bad" here, but Jack has forbidden me from using any kind of pop slang, because it's "just so wrong, mom."

Mitch called me and burst my retail bubble by saying that our insurance would not cover his most recent surgery and we owe them about the price of a new car. Luckily, I'm now making money off of this blog from the ads at the top. So far I've made 94 cents. Now I can say I'm a working mother!

Windexing one's glass slippers is infinitely more tiring than many realize.

Jessica convinced me to try and unpack at least two boxes from the garage today. I opened a box and found Henry's Floam, but it was really too cold out there for my thin flannel pajamas to do anything else.

Basho the Sumo Wrestler Table

Skymall.com $225.00

I've been hoping my husband will buy me this beautiful conversation piece in high quality resin for Valentine's Day. If he loves me enough, you all will see it in my entryway or warming his butt by the fire when you come to visit....

There's a rumor going around that I've been beaten at Scrabble. Let me explain how it all went down. Grandpa and Grandma D came for a little visit. We had a great time and Grandpa enjoyed making fun of me for bringing my own pot to Toby's Tavern to pick up my fresh mussels. That's just how we do things here. Toby's has the best Penn Cove mussels and they're under 3 bucks a pound, ya just gotta bring yer own pot to pick 'em up. But I digress. We had a ton of mussels, dinner, wine, and salad with blue cheese. I felt a migraine coming on from the bad combo of red wine and blue cheese, but I felt this would not handicap me in a little game of Scrabble. The game was going on and on, and YES, Grandpa was ahead by 23 points, and I conceded by way of falling on the board and messing up the game. As is my good sportsman-like way when I'm losing a game. 4 hours later, I am in total misery, 8 hours later and I'm in the ER for pain and nausea relief that I couldn't get from my own impressive medicine cabinet. They couldn't get a vein (veins shrink up when you get a migraine), so both arms are black and blue with useless needle pricks, but I finally got a lovely narcotic and anti-nausea drug and was back home in no time. The timing wasn't bad, because G and G were able to stay with the kids while my poor husbad shuttled me while I muttered, "just let me die" over and over, to Whidbey General, where we've both seen enough of to last a lifetime.

The point of this LONG story is to give my side, as the story that's being told on the east side of the Mountain is that Granpa beat me so bad at Scrabble it did me in and sent me to the Emergency room because I couldn't handle the loss. REMATCH, Dad.

Well, it's been 2 months since we moved in and our garage still looks like this.

I thought about working on it today, but I decided to just take a picture of it, post it, and call it a day.

He's so cute, I don't even mind picking up his poop.

Today we had Erika, Thelonious, and Ione up for a visit. We took them to the kids' favorite place, Fort Casey. Grace thought all these little alcoves were places she could pose, a'la the Blessed Mother or some other holy or unholy icon.

Henry entertained Thelonious with tales of his favorite book, "Super Diaper Baby" which is all about poop. One of his favorite topics. Once, the day after he had eaten corn for dinner, Henry was in the bathroom for a very, very long time. When he finally came out, he said, "Why do people even bother eating corn?"

Both J and H are very entrepreneurial, but in very different ways. J likes to have lemonade stands and do extra chores for money, and he socks it away carefully. H likes to get money without actually having to work for it. He got a metal detector for Christmas and made a bunch of money when Santa sprinkled coins all over the yard. He also will dance or dress in drag for a dollar. His latest scheme is his best. We have a little water feature/pond out front. H's going to put a sign out that says "Make a Wish", so when people come over they'll put money in the fountain and he'll collect it after they leave.

"H, what makes you think people will throw money in the fountain?"

"I'm going to put all my metal detector money in there before anyone comes over, so they get the idea. Sometimes you gotta spend money to make money, mom. I saw that on SpongeBob."

My house is rarely all clean at the same time, but this has never been more apparent than today. I spent the morning cleaning while the girls played happily with their dollhouses and the boys were at school. H walked in the front door after school and wailed, "are we moving again?"

"No, why do you ask?"

"The whole house is clean!"

"Mommy, can I cut my Barbie's hair?"

"No, because you probably won't like it and it's a new Barbie and I'm not going to buy you a new one." Lots of carrying on, so I decide to let her do it and learn a lesson.

"Well, G, how do you like it?"

"I don't."

"You know I'm not buying you a new one."

"That's okay, I'll get some money from Grandpa!"

In the 7 weeks we've lived here, I've heard the occasional jet noise from the Naval Air Station up in Oak Harbor. They have a remote touch and go landing strip down here in Coupeville, and today I got to experience these Prowlers firsthand. There's no way to describe the noise. I was in the kitchen feeding the youngest kids when I heard the loudest, thundering noise. The kids jumped from their seats. O grabbed her plate of food and ran into a closet. G ran for her baby doll so she could cover it's ears. I made a beeline for the internet so I could research whether or not my kids could get hearing damage. With no hesitation whatsoever, H ran outside, screaming, "THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE!" The jets go right over our house, very low, and have been going at it all morning. It's quite spectacular, but I'm glad it doesn't happen too often, and I'm very glad I don't have a newborn. It reminds me of the time I was a new mother and week-old J refused to sleep. Finally, he drifted off only to have the Blue Angels go screaming over our Magnolia house and wake him up repeatedly. I went a little crazy and called the Seattle City Council, the Mayor's office, and the Port of Seattle to complain. I'm sure all the people that took my call that day got a good laugh about the crazy postpartum lady on the phone. I lifted this photo from the Navy's website because they were too fast for my crummy camera.`

Yesterday the kids and I went to the big city. We were gone about 9 hours and only got a few of our errands done, but I loved it. I couldn't find my cell phone, so I borrowed Mitch's. Of utmost importance was buying Jack some shoes. His feet had grown 2 sizes, and I was feeling like a crummy mom, but when I told him the order of our business, he balked. "I'm going to pick the first pair I see. I hate shopping for shoes!" 2 hours and 5 stores later, Mr. Picky finally found a pair he could live with, which were not on sale, of course, but by then I would have traded one of the twins for a pair of shoes he liked. At one point, while the three youngest were playing hide-and-seek under the shoe racks, Grace glimpsed herself in one of those little shoe mirrors. Earlier that morning, she had brought me about 6 hair things and gave me instructions on how to do her hair. After she saw it in the mirror, in the middle of a very crowded store, she shrieked, "WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY HAIR! I DIDN'T WANT THE FLOWER BARRETTES ON THE TOP!!!!! IT LOOKS TERRIBLE!!!!" She carried on and on. Sure Jack, you can get those expensive shoes. Let's. Just. Get. Out. Of. Here.

When we got back in the car I got a call from Mitch.

"Hi honey, the Coupeville Liquor store called. They found your cell phone."

We had a much-too-brief visit with the Gesingers and Grace admired Jessica's new Snow White hair-do. Thankfully there were no misplaced barrettes in it. Picked up Hunter and headed to a Gano birthday party at Pump It Up where the kids and I bounced for a couple hours. It was a blast, but I had taken pain killers for a headache, and forgot about my pulled muscle. Couldn't move when I woke up today. We brought Hunter back home, driving by our old house. "What a dump!" said the ever-charming H. Went to Costco, which wasn't too bad for some reason. I think I was just so happy to be around lots of people. We were the last car on the ferry and the ride home was very peaceful. Just as we were coming up our driveway, though:

"Mom?"

"Yes, J?"

"These shoes aren't very comfortable."

Every night at dinner, we go around the table and ask each person what their best and worst things were about the day. Last night, J said, "I didn't really have a best thing. I guess winning the spelling bee at school." What? First let me say that I am a failed Oregon state spelling bee contestant. Spelling is very dear to my heart and my idea of a good time is playing computer Scrabble. "So what's the next step?" I say, trying to sound calm and hold back visions of J entering the National Spelling Bee wearing a black satin robe with the words, "Jack Spellington" embroidered on the back, punching the air with little pocket dictionaries.

"Oh, I told my teacher I wasn't interested in competing. I only entered the spelling bee because they made us. Spelling's boring, mom." You can imagine what I'm thinking here. I'm trying not to start screeching like a monkey while at the same time respecting his choice. Monkey screeching won out. I stopped short of paying him to continue. We'll see what he decides to do, but I'm buying three yards of black satin just in case...

We just got our first copy of the Whidbey News-Times. Mitch and I were rolling on the floor as we read the Island County Sherriff's Report. Most of the crimes reported involved downed trees. Here are the most egregious crimes:

1/9/07-At 11:18 an Oak Harbor caller reported an empty refrigerator in front of a residence. He was concerned a child might get stuck inside.

1/6/07 A caller reported a beer bottle must have been thrown in the back of his pickup, because he didn't know where it came from.

At 3:03 a Coupeville caller asked about noise ordinances and wondered if it was legal to run a generator all night long.

At 11:10, an Oak Harbor caller reported that he was assaulted by his wife who grabbed him very hard in the testicles.

1/5/07, At 8:06 pm and Oak Harbor caller reported neighbors having a loud party with music and voices. The caller also thought the neighbors' smokestack wasn't up to code.

Well, G finally said those words we've been both expecting and dreading:

"I have a boyfriend, Daddy!"

M about crapped his pants, and I could easily read his thoughts, and they were something along the lines of shotguns and a giant padlock.

Preschool has opened up a whole new world for G, and despite the fact that there are only four boys in her class, she's got three of them already doing her bidding. Before nap today we were reading a fairy tale and the princess was only dancing with the prince. G was concerned that the princess wasn't giving the other men a chance.

"When I'm a real princess I'm not going to just dance with one handsome prince. I'm going to dance with all of them!"

Mh is at the hardware store today buying lumber for a very, very, tall, doorless tower.

O is practicing for her next stint on QVC. G is possessed. Note the pajamas O is wearing. She's had them on for 48 hours. That's my Island Girl!

Tonight, they were in the bathtub bathing their bald baby dolls, and talking about being mommies.

"What do mommies do, anyway?" I say, wondering if they'll wax poetic about all the wonderful things I do for them.

"Well, when I'm a mommy", G says, "I'm not going to make gross dinners like you."

"Mommies wipe up pee and poop." O says.

H, eavesdropping from his bedroom, yells, "and they make out with Daddies!"

We had a great time playing with sisters and cousins this weekend. O's highlight was holding Mack's puppy Roxie on her lap and petting her. And holding her. Around the neck in case she tried to get away from the loving petting. G enjoyed playing barbies and dolls with Aunt Kimmie and Mackenzie. She learned what a "Hoochie Mama Barbie" is. H loved hanging with Anthony. And he apparently fell asleep in the snow while the moms were away and Dad was in charge. J's favorite thing was playing Apples to Apples with his tipsy parents and aunties.

My favorite thing was probably spending the day shopping with my sisters. We left all the kids but Mackenzie with M. This is when H took a nap in the snow. I also enjoyed H's basketball game, which most of us attended. H is a killer on the court. When someone finally passed the ball to him, he ducked. Then he said he wanted to come out of the game because he had the hiccups.

Aside from my sweatpants and pajamas, there were some serious fashion infractions. Marci wore hot pink fuzzy socks with opened back shoes to Seattle Premium Outlet mall. My stomach still hurts from laughing as Kim and I walked behind her, with her metallic pink and silver dog carrier "purse". She rocked the bargains, as usual, though. Kim and I tried stuffing our muffin-tops into Lucky jeans. I didn't feel so lucky after my twinskin flapped over the top. Fear of predators prevents me from posting a picture of Henry dressed in drag, complete with wig, acid wash mini skirt, and pink plastic mules. Poor Anthony had a Seahawks coat with a broken zipper. Kim vowed to buy him a new one when we were out shopping, but was blinded by the Coach Outlet and not a word was mentioned of little Anthony or the frigid temperatures...at least she got a new Coach! Reminded me of the time she brought Anthony and his highly contagious Hand, Foot, and Mouth disease to a purse party after he had been sent home from camp. I can see 24 year-old Anthony in therapy now. The therapist will lift up Coach purses and Anthony will dissolve into a puddle of screaming behind the couch. Perhaps the worst fashion faux pas of all is this photo of Kim, and her imitation of an Island Grandma. To be fair to her, I made her try this hat on in the store. Nice bag, Kim!

Sigh. When we first moved here, I was in a shop and I overheard the owner saying she hadn't worn jeans in years. "Only elastic waists for me!" I shuddered when I heard this, vowing I would not be one of "those" people. I owned one velour sweat outfit, and I only wore it Sunday mornings. I NEVER went out in public in it. Over the past few weeks, however, my wardrobe has mysteriously morphed. Since I never go anywhere much, I hope out of the shower and simply "pull" on some pants. Sweatpants. Since I only had one pair, I of course had to wear M's. He only has a few pairs, too, and he actually wears them to go to physical therapy, so what's a girl to do? Yes, I've resorted to getting right back into pajamas after my shower in the mornings. The first time I did this, I got one raised eyebrow from my loving husband, but now, the plaid flannel is just part of the landscape around here. My sisters and their kids are coming for the weekend today, so I dressed up. I put on some elastic waist microfleece sweats. But they're black, so they look very dressy. Very klassy.

Snow Day

Four hours after H's prayers are answered.

School got out early and is likely cancelled tomorrow. I wish I had his connections!

H the bible thumper....

Yesterday we had no power for most of the day. The wind was blowing so hard that Seamus was too afraid to go out and do his business. Naturally I stepped in a big pile of dog poop on the stairs when I went down at midnight to check on things. Gross! Anyway, today we were expecting snow. H woke up at 5:30, ran to the window, and burst into tears when he saw that there was no snow. All morning he moaned about it. Then, he said, "Mom, does God hear everything we say?"

"Uh, um, I think so, but He doesn't always answer our prayers, H."

"I've been very good, I'm going to pray for snow!"

He goes to the window and I see his eyes squeezed tightly shut, praying with all his might.

Two seconds later you can't see three feet for all the snow. It's a freaking blizzard!

Now H is a member of the God Squad. He just went up to pray for school to be cancelled. Oy.

H is helping us redecorate the new house. At first, when he realized swinging from the towel bar wasn't the best idea, he burst into tears, but he recovered quickly enough to say, "It's a good thing I got rid of that for you mom. You said you hated that ugly old brass towel rack. Now you can get a new one. Just sell this one on e-bay!" Which means I'll have to replace the brass fixtures throughout the entire bathroom. Of course M said if we do that, we might as well re-tile the shower and replace the countertops. If we do that though, he thought we should also add a second vanity sink. Thanks, H!

Today the boys and I decided to finally see where the trail accross the road leads. There was an Indian chief's grave, then down, down, down to the beach! There was an ancient, barely readable sign that said private property, so of course J would not allow us to linger on what might be someone's private beach. We took the road back up and somebody driving down it stopped to let the boys play with her 8 week old Golden Retriever that she had just picked up from the breeder. Soooo cute, but all those piles of pee and poop are still too fresh in my mind.

How we're doing on our New Year's Resolutions:

M is doing great.

I have sworn twice (that I've been caught) and I've been forced to eat Bertie Bott's every flavor beans: Vomit flavor and Soap flavor. Also, every time I get on the treadmill to work on my secret NYR, the power goes out. The Island wants me to be flabby.

J is getting very close to thinking about maybe asking a kid over to shoot some hoops.

H is not yet considering his 2 days of sugar free-ness. He's got a whole year, after all.

O has not asked again about riding a horsie, and I'm thanking my lucky stars.

G is still looking for a unicorn and she got in a knock-down drag-out fight with Henry when he had the audacity to suggest they don't exist. Grace won the fight.

I hate New Year's resolutions.

Who can spot the fruit of my loins?

One reason I love Coupeville:

I signed H up for basketball 2 days ago. In Shoreline, you have to sign kids up for sports like a year in advance and fill out all kinds of liability forms, medical release forms, copies of birth certificate, proof that your kid doesn't have some kind of debilitating disease, etc. The coach he'd been assigned to called me the next day and simply asked for my email address so I could have the game schedule.

"What about all the forms?" I said.

"Oh, I think we need your address and phone number. We'll get it later. We're just here to have some fun."

So I am stressing out during the first half of the game because I haven't filled out any paperwork, sent in a fee, etc. Then the coach's wife came over and stressed the importance of the snack sign-up and I felt much better.

"Does it have to be whole grain sugar-free and nut-free with no high-fructose corn syrup?"

"Well, we brought the snack today and it's rice crispy treats and juice boxes."

I freaking love it here! But will I fit in?

"Bob?" says my very nasally congested daughter.

"Yes G?"

"I love you Bob."

"I love you, too, G."

"Bob?"

"Yes, G?"

"Who's Bob?"

Today was O and G's first day of preschool. I went to all the little shops on Front street, finally without kids after years and years, went to the wine store, and went to the little coffee shop and read the paper and had a delicious latte. Then I went to the library and got a new library card and some books. Then I went to the spa and got a price list for their spa packages to leave on my husband's pillow tonight.

Oh. And the girls did crafts and probably had snacks and crap. We were all very happy.

I love the comments, but please leave your name if you post anonymously so I know you're not an ax(e) murderer. Thanks, Love Ya!

Girl Soup

Is it 1972? Is Jessica's butt on fire? Am I going to put it out with my glass of wine?

We had the Gesingers for New Year's weekend. I think the highlight for Mark, M, and H was peeing into the bonfire (J missed it, but hopes to do it next time). In fact, H spent most of the afternoon gathering more fallen branches in hopes he can do it again soon. Jack helped, as he loved throwing things on the fire. My contribution was throwing popcorn kernels onto it. It worked! But the popcorn burned.

Lucy, Sylvie, O, and G enjoyed their "Princess Bath". The grown-up girls enjoyed their special bubbles, too. We were all in bed by 12:05. Peace!