I just noticed a bunch of pictures left on my camera. Here are the last of the holiday photos:Making cookies on Christmas Eve for Santa. And mommy.
Smoked turkey leg with no teeth. The best!
Dude, Santa totally came to our house!

The interior of the house has been stripped of all things Christmas, and I feel kind of melancholy about it. We had such a great month and memorable, relaxing holiday. It wasn't hard to beat last year, what with Mitch recovering from surgery and heavily medicated, piles of moving boxes everywhere, the kids trying to make friends in a new school, etc. My mom came for Christmas last year also, but arrived with pneumonia, so there was that, too. Here are a few pics from the past month. Above, the girls were helping to make Christmas candy for the neighbors. And when I say helping, I think everyone knows what I mean. Below is a pic of our annual gingerbread house. This is one of my least favorite holiday traditions, but Mitch and the kids love it. Hmmm, let's see. Mitch designs it (thank GOD for that master's in architecture), the kids frost and decorate it. I get to shop for all the stuff, make the dough, painstakingly measure out the dough as per Mitch's blueprint, bake it, and assemble it. With real candy stained glass windows! I can't believe I didn't get a close up of the gumdrop Jesus Henry made hanging above the doors of the cathedral. This year, it ended up making our New Year's bonfire smell delicious. Not my gumdrop Jesus!

My ginormous first ever fake tree. Yep, we had two Christmas trees this year, and that's a lotta freaking ornaments to put away. It took me two days. I would love to have a Christmas tree in every room, but the divorce rate is already way too high for that. Wishing you peace and better hair than any of us have on this windy ferry ride in the New Year. Oh yeah, and damn you, Santa, for bringing a new Candyland game into our home. Damn you to the South Pole.

Resolutions 2008

Well, here are our official New Year's Resolutions. Keep in mind that these are not the resolutions I would have picked for my family members, but they claim they get to make their own, like this is some kind of democracy around here.

Mitch: Spend more time at the gym (boring! good for you, honey!)

Jack: Learn to play the guitar

Henry: Spend more time with Anthony. And beat Super Mario Galaxy.

Olivia: Find a real fairy in the forest, and share my Barbie computer with Grace.

Grace: "I don't know what a resolution is."
"I don't know what a goal is."
"This year I want to go to kindergarten and wear a new outfit, like a new twirly girl dress."

As for me, I'm not really going to try and swear more. I'm just going to try and get by on the normal amount of cussing, and anyone who knows me can tell you that is more than enough. My real resolution is to prep, plant, and most of all, maintain our giant garden this summer.

The fairy thing is thanks to Jessica's daughter, Lucy. She brought an adorable book about how to find fairies when they were up for New Years', and we took all the kids on a fairy hunt in the woods (does it go without saying that Jack declined?). We put some food out in a circle of mushrooms, where fairies are apparently known to dance. Came back the next day and discovered the food gone! And! Gold and Purple Fairy Dust in it's place! Holy Shit! (See, I know how to keep a resolution.)

We were too cocky. While having a fantastic beef burgundy the other night at Nora and Pete's, we had a request for medical horror stories involving the kids, because we're usually good like that. Popcorn kernel in the ear? Absolutely! Two kids on separate occasions! Concussion? Two kids! Swallow a nickel? Hospitalization for a disease you picked up in the ER while waiting to have a popcorn kernel plucked out of your brother's ear? You get the idea. But this time, we had no stories, and we bragged a bit about our recent good fortune. I'm sure you know where this is going. The vomiting began yesterday afternoon and it's still going on, I'm afraid. It's Olivia, but she has no fever or any other symptoms. Just nonstop vomiting. What's most awesome is, just as I began the laundry ballet, our expensive front loader decided it doesn't feel the need to spin anymore. See how I'm giving an inanimate object human thought? That's because I haven't been to bed yet, but now that Olivia seems to be napping comfortably, I've had too much coffee to rest myself. Plus, she only wants Daddy. I am allowed to wipe her mouth, change her clothes, bring her Pedialyte pops, and rotate her barf bowl, though.

Update: The barfing seems to have stopped. Yay! Washing machine is taken apart. Boo!

Sometimes, for fun, I check the analytics report for this site. This week, some of the phrases that people Googled and wound up on my site were:

farting diahrrea accidents
he gets maid uniform for birthday
joel mchale bald spot
husband's foreskin
vomit in headgear

Suddely I feel so, I don't know, klassy.

Must. Stop. Eating. Starting tomorrow! I've got Moon Sand all over the house, but it could really be the best toy ever invented. The three youngest have been pretty much playing it for 23 hours straight, aside from a little recharge nap in the night. Also? The Baby Born Look I Can Swim Doll may be the creepiest toy ever invented. This tiny baby doll swims the minute it's sensors get wet, but occasionally the head pops off while it's swimming. The children woke us up at 5:30am yesterday to see if Santa had come, but Jack later revealed he had been watching a couple (!) of runs of a "Christmas Story" in his bed while he waited for an appropriate time to wake us up. They tore into their gifts and were doing their best at keeping a brave face when all that was under the tree had been opened, but alas, no Wii.

"Henry, will you go fetch my slippers from the TV room?" said the meanest mom on the planet. Head hung low, he slowly marched to the TV room to do my bidding.


"WEGOTAWiiWEGOTAWii!!!!!SANTA BROUGHT A Wii!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"


"WOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!"

And now I have tennis elbow from playing Wii tennis all afternoon. Or is it smoked turkey elbow?

Just checking to make sure they work, I guess.

Nothing says "I love you" like a new toilet seat for Christmas.

It's 5-something am and it's the first day of Christmas vacation. And! I'm even wearing my holiday spirit, finally. Henry helped me find it shoved way in the back of my closet. We were out shopping for one of his best friends, who is having a birthday party today. This little boy has Down's Syndrome, and Henry, who usually buys things based on what he would like (I got a rubberband shooter for my birthday), spent a long, thoughtful time picking out a gift. "I don't think he'd like Legos or Action Figures (Henry's holy grail of toys), probably he would like something that does something when you push a button." After a lot of deliberation, he picked a music maker guitar thingie, something he would never be interested in, but I really do think his friend will love it. Later, at the kids' holiday hell concert (which consisted of the entire student body sitting on the gym floor singing Christmas Karaoke), I saw the little boy give Henry a kiss and hug right in front of all the kids, and Henry just grinned and patted him on the back. And right then, just like the grinch, my heart swelled 10 sizes.

I probably won't be posting much this week, I'm going to try and stay off the computer Scrabble and celeb websites (so if that crazy Spears family pulls another stunt I'll be left in the dark!) and focus on my family. Merry Christmas!

Jesus Christ, how am I going to survive four more days until your birthday? These kids are killing me.

The girls preschool holiday party was fine. You know, no booze or anything, so how much fun could we really have had? One of the moms said to me, "I'll see you tomorrow night at the Middle School Band Concert!" and I made a mental note to dig out Jack's shiny shoes and iron his white shirt.

Yesterday was crazy busy, waiting for the refrigerator guys to show up and bribe them to move the old fridge to the garage (fudge and cokes, baby). Also! The old fridge is working beautifully now, so, yay, I have two refrigerators and no camera. And I'm not even going to talk about how insane I am going already at the fingerprints on the stainless steel. We also had extra kids over, and Henry had a field trip at school. At about 10pm last night, Jack came into my room as I was just getting into bed.

"Um, mom? We forgot to go to my concert."

Crappity crapsticks, I spent the entire night wide awake in agony and guilt, worrying that Jack would be ruined for life over it. I contacted the band teacher first thing, and she was very nice about it, he just has to play a few lines for her after school. He wasn't bothered in the least about missing the concert, either, although he thoroughly was enjoying my massive guilt. I'd gotten up early to email the teacher, and I made him a nice breakfast. What did he say when he sat down? "Oh, yum, I love guilt eggs!" And then, as I was mentioning Henry's winter concert on Friday, Jack said, "Don't worry, you won't forget about it, mom, because you love Henry." Niiiiiiiiiice. He thinks he's so hilarious. Anyway, I'm pretty much feeling like the crummiest mom on earth today. Santa had better damn well come through with that Wii.

For all of you nice people sending me emails/calling about the Wii, thank you! Don't you worry about anything, I just like to keep my kids on their toes and if they think they might not get a toy, they behave just a teensy bit better (Jack, if you're reading this, you're not getting a Wii).

Mitch's mom was up for the weekend, and we also had his brother, sister-in-law, and nephew for a few meals. Oliver, who's four, got initiated into my mean little rule in which, if a child comes crying to me during a game, said game is over. For instance, I heard muffled crying in the garage when the kids were playing in the bouncy house. About 20 minutes later, Olivia comes in with a goose egg on her forehead, but they all said "nothing" happened when I asked. In this way, I don't get bugged by a bunch of whiners, and they learn to suck it up. Everybody wins! I think the kids had to physically restrain Oliver a few times, though.

Today at preschool, a little boy was looking at all the girls and he said to me and another mom: "None of these girls has a penis. I have a penis. And so does my dad, and his is HUGE!" Tonight is the preschool Christmas party and I can't wait to meet this kid's dad...

"You know kids, I've been watching the news, and even Santa is having a hard time locating enough Wii systems for all the kids that want them for Christmas. You may want to have a backup wish, in case he can't bring one for you."

Jack: "I'd love a telescope."

Olivia: "Baby Born Look I can Swim Doll!"

Grace: "What's a Wii system?"

Henry: "I just want Anthony." (his cousin)

And me, I guess I want a dumb stupid refrigerator. I don't know what Mitch wants, but he's getting a dumb stupid refrigerator, too.

Mitch stayed home with a cold today

This is a fairly accurate depiction of what it's like when he's "sick".

A sure sign your children have been watching too many commercials on tv:

Olivia and Grace's version of "Go Tell it on the Mountain"--

"Go, Tell it on the Mountian,
Go, Tell it on the Mountain
Go, Tell it on the Mountain,
We've got Jesus Christ and More!"

Our dishwasher is on it's last legs, and I despise our oven and hate it and I don't like it. Either of these appliances could break, and I'd have a going away party. "See you later, asshole oven that burns cookies!" "Adios, bitch of a dishwasher that leaves my glasses looking like the dog licked them clean!" Our refrigerator, however, is nice and big and delicious filtered water comes out of a spout inside and it's lovely. So, NATURALLY, our refrigerator broke on Friday, along with Jack's braces, which left him with an oozing wound on the inside of his cheek. So I got to combine a trip to the orthodontist to fix said braces with a trip to buy a new refrigerator, all four kids in tow. I had my sheaf of Consumer Reports papers in hand and Mitch met us there. Somehow we ended up with a stainless steel model. Our other appliances are white, which means either we will be replacing our other crappy appliances or our kitchen will be looking all unmatched, and stuff. What's awesomer than an enormous unforseen expense in the middle of December? Nothing, that's what.

On Saturday, Jack went down to Seattle and got to go on his friend Dylan's new sailboat and play video games all night long, so you could say he had a great weekend. Some friends of ours own a barbecue place here and they called Saturday evening to see if we were interested in a freshly smoked prime rib. I was just hauling frozen turkey burgers out of our broken refrigerator, so, yeah, we were interested. And. It. Was. So. Flipping (I wanted to say Fucking, but my aunt reads this, and she's a nun). Goooooood. Olivia's eyes were rolling in the back of her head with each bite, and even Grace ate it, despite it not being in the white food group. We woke up to a thin blanket of snow here on Sunday and the kids made dirt angels in it. Also, Grace made a dog poop angel.

Ugh. The kids were playing 'school' this morning. They were all crouched in the corner with a blanket over their heads.

Me: Why are you guys crouched in the corner?

Henry: In case there's a shooter outside.

Me: I thought you were playing "school"?

Henry: We are. We're playing "Lockdown". We practiced it at my school yesterday.

Words, they escape me.

Our kids are so elfing talented! Click here to see for yourself:

http://www.elfyourself.com/?id=1187055999

Man, I'm sore today. I used to be able to fall down the stairs and still get in a full night of dancing and drinking, but this aging business is kicking my ass. As you can see, though, we still were able to go to the tree farm and cut down this perfect noble. It got dark fast, so I'm not even sure if you can see it's fat perfection. My husband luuurves picking out trees with me, because I'm so picky, and he knows I'll really take the time to get just the right one. See how it's full daylight above, then, basically the dead of night when we finally picked our tree? That's because I'm the awesomest tree-picker-outer in the world.
That's Jack on the ground, getting in the first cuts.
It's pretty dark, but I'm certain that's a grin on Mitch's face, rather than a grimace.

The day is off to a great start. At 5am, Grace snuck into our bed and I couldn't get back to sleep, so I headed downstairs to make coffee and have some quiet time. I stepped on something at the top of the stairs (which later turned out to be a book), and thumpety thump thump! I fell down the stairs, waking my husband up, who, after seeing if I was allright (I sort of was), decided to go back to bed and brood about money, his most favoritest thing to brood about. Grace ratted Olivia out as to who left the book at the top of the stairs, and Mitch and I are suspicious it's her little way of trying to get me out of the picture so she can have Daddy all to herself.

Yesterday I sent the kids to school in layers, figuring they'd lose power from our wind storm, and got all my no-power gear out, but we surprisingly didn't lose electricity for once. Henry was jealous of the kids in Seattle who don't have school today thanks to all the flooding, and he used his sad face about this to get me to make him a third breakfast. Believe it or not, my little stringbean baby that was on Makehimfat shakes dipped in butter so he could grow some brain has gone from the 20th percentile for weight to the 90th percentile! He's still 95th percentile for height, but I'm going to have to limit him to two breakfasts from now on. I blame Mitch's admin. assistant for giving us all those farm fresh eggs. Hen walks around with a bottle of Chipotle Tobasco sticking out of his back pocket, begging for eggs every chance he gets. He even wants me to send scrambled eggs in a thermos for lunch. Jack, on the other hand, has become alarmingly thin. This I blame on his orthodontics and those stupid healthy eating habits. Maybe I should get a mouth full of metal.

Nana went home today, sadly. Now Mitch has to go back to wearing underwear that has been carelessly tossed into a bin instead of lovingly folded, and the kids are going to have to go back to doing all their chores because I obviously don't love them as much as Nan does.

Yesterday was our one year anniversary of living on this island. We celebrated by having a parade. What I mean is, the girls and I were in our hokey-but-adorable small town Christmas parade. We rode on the preschool "float", and when I say float, what I really mean is old flatbed trailer full of haybales. The girls had a blast pelting kids on the street with candy, especially their brothers, who were standing at the very end of the route. I forgot my friggin' tiara and my eyeballs still haven't thawed out, but it was very fun.

Also, we had our Winter Carnival at the elementary school with Santa, caroling, crafts, and a secret santa shop where kids could bring a little money and shop for gifts for family members. I was a personal shopper who helped the kids pick stuff out. Excruciating. I was near the woman who was helping Olivia and Grace do their shopping, and when she said she would take them seperately to buy gifts for each other, Olivia grabbed Grace by the back of her neck, and whisper-yelled in a low, menacing voice, "I want that fluffy kitty in the basket." I don't know where she learned to act like that.

My first thought when I woke up this morning was of moving day last year, when the movers, a particularly sadistic bunch, had packed my coffee maker in THREE DIFFERENT BOXES! Yes, I just yelled, internet, because I'm still pissed about it. I was insanely ripping boxes open at 1am because I refused to go to bed without knowing I had coffee to wake up to. Also, the espresso maker was in three different boxes. Jerks. I curse you! With the amount of Xanax I was popping that day, how on earth did they expect me to wake up without my coffee? I'm really going to try and put it behind me now, because Mitch is tired of me bitching about it every month or so. Assholes.

Grace had a rare lightbulb moment today. She realized that if she's already on the Naughty List, it's like she's got free license to be a bad as she wants. We pulled both Henry and Grace out of the gift closet today where they were snooping mightily. I'm going to put some decoy gifts in there with their names on them. Socks and whole wheat flour for Henry, and cleaning supplies and a bag of vegetables for Grace.

A 'Charlie Brown Christmas' was on last night. Mitch made the comment that he's like Charlie Brown, and I'm exactly like Lucy Van Pelt. Huh? Wha? I'm guessing he identifies with Charlie Brown because he sees himself as long-suffering, or maybe because they have matching hair patterns. Whatever. I don't see myself as a Lucy at all, though. He says it's because I email him links to the exact items I want as gifts and because I'm generous with unsolicited advice (See! Right there is a flaw in his logic. Lucy charges 5 cents). Who does he think he is? Lucy is a bitch. What a blockhead.

Picture, if you will, our little hippy-dippy preschool where everything is a cooperative effort and the children are free to choose any activity they desire (as long as no one or no thing is hurt by it, naturally). Enter Nana. She told one kid he was "full of crap" (he was), and also told a new mom to "get a blanket on that baby!". The kids loved her anyway, of course. Except for the kid who was full of crap.

I promised to take Henry to Walmart today to see if he could find some action figure he's been looking for. Reason #146 why I hate Walmart: Oh. My. God. The Santa. Henry heard the bells jingling and ran to the end of the toy aisle to investigate. He came zipping back to me, eyes as big as saucers. "MOM!" He whisper-yelled, "the Santa is missing some teeth and his beard is brown but it looks like he sprinkled white powder in it, and his eyes are crossed!" I didn't get close enough to check, but I'm also pretty sure he smelled like beef and cheese.

My brother , sister (and her awesome kids), and mom were here for Thanksgiving. Olivia really enjoyed cuddling with Nana and her little dog, Roxie. The actual day is kind of a tryptophanic blur which I haven't recovered from yet. Mitch made two turkeys, one of which he smoked in the grill (the reason I'm still in elastic waisted pants two days later). I will say that chipotle mashed sweet potatoes are disgusting and a big fat waste of table space, even with copious amounts of wine coursing through my veins. My sis and I did the Black Friday shopping thing, but I'm afraid she was sorely disappointed. The deals were the same as in the city, but since she didn't have to claw anyone's eyes out for the last pair of memory foam slippers, I think she felt she wasn't really getting a good deal. That's how it is on the island. Boring, plenty of items (except for K-Mart, which sucks!!!!!!! Why advertise two-for-one Legos and not have any in stock? Assholes.), and lots of easygoing people. Not exactly thrilling. Then, last night we went to a public-run farm that had caroling and a tree lighting ceremony, and a visit from the REAL Santa Claus, who arrived on a firetruck with lights flashing and music playing. Olivia spent the afternoon making a picture for him, because as she reminded all of us throughout the day, she loves Santa. When the firetruck pulled up, any bit of cool that Henry was trying to hold onto for his cousin Dillon went right out the window as he went flying to the truck, hands waving in the air, "Santa! Santa! Santa!" Olivia was awestruck, Grace was timid, and Jack, Mackenzie, and Dillon were way too cool to make asses out of themselves by fawning over Santa, even if it was the real one.
Here, Grace is holding onto her Dad's hand for dear life, terrified. Olivia and Henry's faces tell their stories, and I threatened Jack with no video games if he didn't look enthused for three minutes, so there you go. Below, Olivia is having a hard time letting go and leaving her idol. Grace is all, "I'm outta here. I'll tell you what I want you to bring me in a letter."
...And back for one last hug.

Well, today I'm officially pushing forty. It's always nice to celebrate your birthday by stepping out of your shower to find a bed full of children who burst into laughter when they see you. Now I'm off to the boys' parent-teacher conferences. Woohoo.

Back from conferences, where we found out our boys are very bright, but very messy. Oh. Well, now, that was worth getting out of bed for. We also found out that Jack is reserved, and Henry is not. So basically, there were no surprises. Henry is enjoying school much more since I began driving him to and from, rather than letting him go on the bus. Also, the biter isn't in his class anymore and his big brother is giving him all sorts of valuable advice, like, "Henry, you shouldn't be afraid of getting in trouble. You can get away with a lot if you're a good student." Real helpful life lessons, there.

I haven't posted for a few days. I've been very, very busy laying around eating brownies and playing Barbies. Also, I took a walk. There was probably some laundry folding in there somewhere, but really, that's about it. The kids have been frantically revising their Christmas lists, because I like to get them in to Santa nice and early. I'll never forget the Christmas I was dying for the Sunshine Family House. I think I was about five, and my parents kept saying things like, "It's been really hard for Santa to find that house this year," and "Katie, I hope you won't be disappointed if Santa can't bring you that dollhouse." Well, of course there it was, under the tree on Christmas morning. Best Christmas ever! Especially since I became the product of a broken home shortly after that *sniff* (sorry, mom and dad, I couldn't resist).

Grace has "decided" she doesn't want the Barbie Hot Tub Party Bus after all, but she instead wants the Playmobil Unicorn Fantasy Playland that someone found a picture of and left laying around the house, to help her change her mind. Yesterday, she smacked Olivia upside the head (and I'm not saying Olivia didn't deserve it), but I said, "Oh, Grace, that's very naughty, I'm going to have to report that to Santa." Olivia freaked out and screamed, "NO, DON'T TELL ON HER, I REALLY WANT TO PLAY WITH THAT UNICORN FANTASY LAND WHEN SHE'S NOT USING IT!" The kids are off of school all week and today they're all getting flu shots, so I should definitely have more to report on later. Oh! I forgot to write that on Henry's report card, his reading teacher said "Henry is a very competant reader." Yes, that's correct, she wrote c-o-m-p-e-t-a-n-t. His reading teacher. I wonder if she knows how to spell irony.

Edited to add: Well, we're back from flu shots, and no one cried, so yay! Henry did horrify me when he removed his socks and his toenails were curled over the entire front of his toes. Disgusting. That kid needs a wife.

Our water came back on last night, but it's off again today for the cleaning of the septic tank. God, I love living on an island. Today we have two extra four year-old girls over, friends from preschool. Olivia is learning about not being the boss. The hard way. I've never seen her give in and compromise before! This is a very exciting development. Also? My ears are bleeding from the shrieking.

Today was the girls' Thanksgiving feast at preschool. They volunteered me to make spaghetti because it's 90% of the kids' favorite food. I brought them to school, then zipped home to make said spaghetti, and zipped right back to preschool, leaving my tomato sauce encrusted pots all over the kitchen, grimacing as I left the mess. The feast was cute. All the kids had made little Native American costumes and wore headbands with Native American names they had picked for themselves. Olivia was "Girl Who Likes Horses" and Grace was "Artist Girl". I was suprised neither girl was "Cries To Get What She Wants" or "Girl With A Shoe Fetish", but whatever. They both said they were most thankful for their mommy and daddy, and since most kids said things like, "my purple princess shoes" or "my Ultimate Fighter action figure" I was touched. We got home and I surveyed the damage to the kitchen, turning on the tap to the hot water. "Huh? Wha?" No water. I called the water company and "Oh, haha, we're cleaning the septic tank tomorrow and I guess we let it get a little too low. You should have water back by tomorrow night." I don't think I need to finish this story either, but you can bet it sure didn't sound like Christmas around here when I got off the phone.

Mitch was cleaning gutters yesterday, and while he was up there, he thought he might as well attach the little Christmas light holders, and since he was already on the roof, he might as well hang the lights, BUT WE WOULD NOT BE TURNING THEM ON UNTIL AFTER THANKSGIVING, DAMMIT. Of course, the lights were in the very last box he got out, so the kids started hauling all sorts of decorations out. Do I really need to finish this story? Let's just say it's beginning to look a lot like, well, you know.

Ack! Well, I missed Day 11 of National Blog Posting Month, because we had our second power outage of the season. The kids have become so used to it, they don't even bat an eye. Within seconds of their electronic babysitters shutting down, they were thundering down the stairs with board games and setting up shop by the fire. They weren't allowed outside because the wind was terrible. You can see by this photo as they (and Hunter) are being entertained the old fashioned way, playing 'Sorry'. Then, they tried playing Legos by the fire for awhile, but things regressed as Jack decided to torture Grace's baby doll and Grace started crying, and Olivia hissed, "Give it back or I'll stick a fork in your eye." Hey Kids! Guess what, we have a couple of laptops around here, let's watch some dvds! The power came back on sometime in the middle of the night, flooding our house with light as Mitch and I rushed around turning everything off before anyone woke up. The wind is picking up again, so I've run the dishwasher and got the laundry going, and more importantly I've ground extra coffee in case we lose power again. Buying that gas grill over the summer with the side burner was an excellent idea. We were able to even make popcorn on it last night. Woohoo.

It's a lazy Saturday afternoon, and the kids are all playing in various rooms in the house. I'm curled up on the couch, watching one of my favorite movies (High Fidelity), which happens to be on cable. On commercials, I switch it to Food Network. Mitch comes and sits down with me for about five minutes, then he gets up and picks up the chair next to the couch.

"I'm going to go fix this chair in the garage."

"What's the matter, can't you relax?"

"No. You have the remote."

Sigh. This is what Grace wants for Christmas. It's official name is the Barbie Hot Tub Party Bus, and the hot tub lights up and plays dance music and it even comes with beds! It's so skankerrific, it probably comes with a Joe "Girls Gone Wild" Francis Ken Doll to exploit the Barbies into taking their tops off for his dvds. Anyway, we told her no, Santa doesn't like to bring toys like that, because they, um, fall apart real easily. She's apparently more clever than we thought she was, because her response to that was, "Do you mean like how Santa doesn't like to give Bratz dolls because they're not appropriate for little girls because they have make-up and see-through clothes?" Yes, Grace that is exactly what we mean.

We always try to coordinate our bedding with our dental accessories.

I joined this NaBloPoMo thingie where you can win prizes if you post on your blog every day for the month of November. Thankfully, I have a bunch of kids hell-bent on driving me insane, so coming up with material to post about hasn't been too much of a challenge. The last thing I won was in the third grade. It was a poster-making contest for the school carnival and I won the grand prize, because I scotch taped red, white, and blue crepe paper around the edges. Dude! It was 1976, our country's centennial celebration. Yep, you could pretty much say I peaked in the third grade. The kids always try to get me to buy lottery tickets, but I refuse, telling them a bunch of bullshit like, "I don't need to win the lottery, I have everything I could ever want already," and "I'd rather invest that dollar in my Coach purse fund your college fund." I do buy raffle tickets to support various causes, and Mitch always laughs at me when I'm genuinely disappointed I didn't win. Mitch also likes to remind me that "winning" stuff on ebay actually means losing, to him and his tightly shut wallet, anyway. So that doesn't count. I almost always win the "guess how big the pregnant lady's waist is" game at baby showers. I figured it's generally about a yard around, and if you can eyeball three feet, you're pretty much guaranteed to win. Ladies, feel free to use that trick at your next baby shower, and think of me when you're putting those scented candles you won in your re-gift cupboard.

This morning I handed the girls some similar outfits, BUT BY NO MEANS WERE THEY MATCHING. Olivia had a fit and picked a whole new outfit. Now, I'm real cranky because I'm coming down with a cold again, or it's allergies, I've spent the last 24 hours dealing with orthodontic trauma, and I have to get them to school so I can go get a filling replaced at the dentist. Whatever, I don't care what ensembles they come up with, as long as they're weather appropriate and can be gotten on in a timely manner. With five minutes to go, I do both their hair in two little pigtails on top, but with different bows. Jesus, you would have thought I gave them white-hot brands the way Olivia pitched a fit. "PEOPLE WILL CALL ME GRACE AND NO ONE WILL BE ABLE TO TELL US APART LIKE GABBY AND ABBY OR SEAN AND ISAAC!" So, finally we get to the bottom of it. There are three sets of twins in our preschool, and the other two sets always dress alike, and no one can tell them apart (and, I'm sorry, but Gabby and Abby? Serious?). From now on, I solemnly swear not to give them matching hairdos, despite the fact that one girl has long, curly, dark blonde hair and the other one has short, straight, light blonde hair. The funniest part is that I probably call each kid by the wrong name in this house about 10 times a day, and sometimes I call them by the dog's name.

Also, Olivia informed me that I bought her the wrong kind of underwear. She doesn's like the skimpy ones I got (no, they're not toddler thongs, just little hipsters--they're cute!). She wants granny panties that go up to her armpits, dang it! And when was the last time I got new underwear, by the way, double dang it!

They say a picture is worth a thousand words. Or four thousand bucks. This is what happens when the genes of two people with mildly bad bites comingle. It's an orthodontic supernova!

Hen only has to wear his at night. Or, if he's playing catcher at a baseball game. Poor Jack has these hydraulic arm thingies on the sides attached to a plastic retainer on the bottom and full braces on the top, as well as an expander across the roof of his mouth and he only gets to take it out when he brushes his teeth. They're both being very good about it--I'm very proud and I'm trying soooo hard not to laugh, but one liners keep flying out of my mouth. At least they can laugh about it. By the way, what you're looking at is also our trip to Disneyland this year. Who needs Disneyland when you've got headgear!

Grace's thought for the day:

"Maybe God makes me have bad dreams because He doesn't like my hair-do." Welcome to my world, people.

Henry has a stalker. A kid from school got Hen's phone number and calls about 20-25 times a day. He has an unlisted number, so we can't tell it's him on caller ID. Henry was frantic yesterday because his beloved cousin Anthony had an emergency appendectomy (he's fine now), and he wanted to keep the phone line clear in case Anthony "needed him". I don't know what Anthony might need Henry for, but he was adamant that he be available. Anywho, I'm not really sure what to do about this kid calling the house all the time. As chatty as he can occasionally get, Henry's not really into talking on the phone. Maybe I'll just have Grace start answering when it rings...

Making me proud...

Grace climbed up on my lap while I was sitting at the computer:

"Mommy, can we look at shoes to buy on the internet?"

Dear Henry,
You're seven years old today. Personality wise, I would say you are the most like me, with that weird combination of shyness and clown. You make us laugh every day around here, and you've weathered the last year beautifully. You've had to leave your friends and all the good toystores and make new friends and learn about internet shopping. You lost most of your teeth and never complained, you just learned to love soup (tonight's birthday dinner: baked potato soup). You've been having a hard time in school, but you're learning to cope with it better every day, and you can read so well all of a sudden! Spiderman still rules, but pirates are a close second. Orange is your "lucky" color. You have the saddest face I've ever seen when you're sad, but when you're happy, everyone around you becomes happy. Seven Rules! Happy Birthday.
Love, Mom

A year ago, today.

Well, I can't let the day go by without putting up a picture of Mitch, post car accident. I thought I would wake up and be all wahwahbaby, remembering it all, but I feel really good. He's alive, and all, and tomorrow is Henry's birthday and yay! we're all together and healthy enough. Last year Henry had his birthday party at one of those big inflatable places and I had to host it while Mitch was bloody and broken in the hospital. I don't think I'd eaten for a few days and it just sucked, so, so, much, trying not to lose my shit and ruin Henry's party. I remember after the party, the kids and I went home and just sat on the living room floor together and cried. We all felt a little better after that, but it was a long, slow climb out of that particular hellhole. He has a cadaver's ligament in his knee and his shoulder and leg will probably always bother him, but he can build a treehouse and fix stuff, he still leaves his coffee cup in the bathroom every morning, and he still likes to yell at people on his jobsite, so I would say his recovery has been excellent. To mark the day today we're taking the dog to the groomer's to have the dead animal smell washed off him and have his (the dog's, not Mitch's) anal glands expressed. So, you know, business as usual. If she has time, I may see if the groomer can trim his (Mitch's, not the dog's) toenails.

Trick-or-treating was fun. Jack went with buddies from school, and Mitch, the other kids, and I went to town. The kids had a screamin' good time and Jack came home with a pillowcase full of 7.5 lbs. of candy, including a single, unpackaged cookie that someone gave out. Also, one of the houses the kids went to was giving out apples. The kids were polite about it, although Henry did show them he had no eating apparatus with which to eat an apple. Below, Capt. Jack Sparrow and a buddy are partaking in a bit o' rum.



Sugar overload

Today is hippie day at school, and this is how Jack left the house at 7:30am.

Shiny Shoes.....

Last night was Jack's middle school band concert. Have I mentioned that he's um, playing the trumpet? You know, the one that sounds like you're backing over a burlap bag full of geese with your car. My friend Beth sent her boy Hunter up for a weekend a while back and sent his trumpet along, so I could hear them practice in stereo. It was freaking awesome. Anyway, he put on the outfit I had to buy him at Suckmart, because he forgot to tell me they had to wear specific clothes. He absolutely about shit himself when he saw the shiny, black $4 Walmart shoes. When we got to the auditorium, he refused to get out of the car for a long while, because not only was he wearing shinyfreaking shoes, I had also made him tuck in his shirt. Anway, I reached into my parenting bag of tricks and pulled out my mean voice, and out of the car he trudged. The same thing that sucks about living on an island with only one store is also what's awesome about it: all the boys were wearing shiny $4 shoes! His face lit up like, well, a pair of $4 shoes when he saw that, then, as soon as he was out of my reach, he untucked his shirt and went to join his posse. The kids sounded pretty good, actually, to us parents sitting in front of them on the bleachers, shielding our eyes from the shoes.

Yay for today, it's Halloween, and I'm sooo ready for it to be over. I feel like I've been beaten with a Halloween stick over the head too many times this month. I'll post pics of the kids in their costumes tomorrow, when, hooray, we get to start getting beaten over the head with the Christmas stick!

We woke up on Sunday, looked around us at the mess (we did clean up the food/drink mess Sat. night), and said, "EFF IT! Let's go to the zoo." We had lots of stuff people left behind to return to Seattle anyway--coats, shoes, costumes, and a kid. So we spent a gorgeous day looking at lazy zoo animals. I felt like crawling into the gorilla habitat and eating my belly button booty right along with them, so lazy did I feel.

So! Like a bucket of ice water in the face was my Monday. When I dropped the girls off at preschool, another mom asked me if Jack had his outfit ready for the middle school band concert tomorrow night. "Huh? Wha?" Apparently he needs black slacks and shoes and a white shirt. Of course he does, and we were in Seattle all day yesterday where they have real stores. After a nightmare trip to SuckMart, I ended up with some nice, shiny, $4.00 shoes and some kind of pants made of a very interesting, um, fiber? Then, home to clean up party debris. Orange marshmallows, chewed up, ground into the carpet. Some black sticky something or other, also in the carpet, and also some glow-in-the-dark necklace juice dripped all over the house. None of this was really a big deal, we hate these carpets and it's just more incentive to replace them with more kid-friendly floors, like Teflon. But the VERY best part of my day was when I heard a commotion from the bathroom from the girls. Yep, shit all over the walls again.

Edited to add: In the last 30 minutes, the dog came in from rolling in something rotten and dead, from the smell of him, opened the garbage cupboard, pulled the trash out, and knocked the contents all over the kitchen floor. Grace's comment? "Oh, boy, mommy is going to say S-H-I-T for sure!"

The party.
Because my camera is so lame (hint, hint, Mitch), you can't see it very well, but we got a bunch of these classic portraits remade into ghoulish faces. MWAHAHAHAHAAAAA...
The garage became an awesome place to bash each other with light sabers and try out their glow-in-the-dark jewelry, but hey, it was all worth it because, now? I can finally park my car in there! If only I had the remote control for the opener...

Billy Bones greets the guests.
A frog, a princess, and Wonder Woman with her belt around her armpits.


How may I serve you, m'lord?

Vittles. Here's what was a success, judging by what was leftover: Pumpkin pasties--I made over a hundred and there were six left. Spicy noodles, Long Pork (I didn't know this, but that's what cannibals call human flesh. I used chinese bbq pork since I didn't have any human meat on hand), and surprisingly, the shrimp brain was even well dug into. Every kid that walked by gave it a good poke, too. Also, I went through three big batches of Grandpa's Toes (mini corn dogs with the top shaved off to look like a toenail). Not too successful was the bat wings (chicken wings), but they were kinda hidden behind the booze in a crock pot, trolls' ears (tortellini salad), and vampire's trail mix. I think the scabs (dried cranberries) were a turnoff.
The world's cutest Batman and hottest Robin.
This is Ian, such a diehard Avatar fan that he shaved his head bald for this costume. Oh yeah, and the kid without any teeth and the bloody knife is Henry. None of my kids were in their costumes for more than 10 minutes--too much running around to do.
Rowrrrrrrrr!!!! Hot Vampiress Beth and adorable witchy Celia.
The cutest royalty at the party, Gary and Bernetta.

This party goer had a little too much rum.
The cemetery by daylight. Much better at night with the strobes and music.
Someone dropped a Bouncy House on the Wicked Witch of the East!
Yum! You know you wanna try it.
Mummy, brain, eyeball, and kid decorated cupcakes.

I was the last person to take a shower this morning, so it was pretty much cold when I got in. I washed quickly and stepped out, only to hear Grace's voice: "Daddy, Olivia needs more wipes!!" I am frozen, listening. When I hear Mitch's voice say, "Olivia, get back in the BATHROOM! YOU'RE GETTING SHIT EVERYWHERE!! SEAMUS! NO! BAD DOG!!!" , I decide a nice, cold, shower will be invigorating and step back inside.

The schools here have an online grade system where you can check on your child's progress, so I finally got around to getting my password and checking on Jack about three weeks ago. He's my easy kid, so why worry, right? Ahem. So I was a little stunned by a bunch of C's and an F. Since he comes home from school and claims to never have homework, and in fact, I haven't seen him crack a book since school began, let's just say we had a little discussion. And a big loss of screen privileges. And oh, the injustice of mean parents who think 'average' isn't good enough!!!!! So yesterday: "Mom, you said if I brought my grades up I could get my screen time back, so will you check?" So, I checked, and what do you know, he did it (I'll overlook the B+. For now.) Did it require much effort on his part? Not that I noticed. But he gets his computer back now, and he can go back to watching "The Office" on Thursdays. I'm easy like that.

I had a discussion with Henry's teacher about why he hates school so much and she seemed very distraught by it. The next day when I picked him up, he said his teacher had a private discussion with him, and moved the kid that was sitting next to him (the biter), and "now I like school, mom". So I'm very annoyed that the teacher isn't listening and is just looking for a quick fix. A friend who's son is in the same class did some fishing for me and he told his mom that Henry finishes his work before everyone else, so I'm inclined to believe he's bored. But! I'm willing to see if the idea the teacher planted in Henry's head works and tricks him into thinking he likes school. But I'm not holding my breath.

This morning, Mitch attached a giant plastic skull to the grill of his car to bring Jack to school. MWAHHHAAHHHAAHHAAAH

The Faces of Four

The Face of Forty
Happy Birthday, Babe

I like how the Wicked Witch is situated in this picture. Like she's casting a spell on his forty year-old face. He'd better watch it or I'll make him clean up his room. But I wouldn't want him to trip on the stairs and break a hip. Yep, that's why the twins are crying. Because I'm an evil mom who makes them clean up their messes, and instead of helping, I take their picture when they start crying. Gotta go to the store now and buy some Depends for my mate.

The kids and I went to a Halloween party today at Henry's friend Abby's in Shoreline while Mitch helped his mom move. Jack went to a Haunted House with Hunter ( but he assured me he packed an extra pair of underwear in case it got too scary). Henry looked adorable in his Jack Sparrow costume and no teeth. He even had me paint some chest hair on him. He was very excited to see apple bobbing at the party, and was the first to try it. Just scroll down a bit to refresh your memory, and think about Henry trying to bob for apples. After many, many attempts, he admitted defeat, saying "man, I suck at this." Then, he stood by watching the other kids doing it, and saying stuff like, "Thelonious, you're going to get sooo sick from all those disgusting germs in there that you're going to be in bed for a week." And, "Abby, I saw some kid hurl a big snotty goober in there where you just put your mouth."

He may not know how to party, but he knows how to party poop!

Grandpa came for a a visit! You can see how the girls felt about that.
Henry tells Grandpa all about his first-grade woes. And cashes in $$$.

Actually, Henry had his first good day at school yesterday. He got a perfect score on his penmanship test (previously the best he had gotten was 2 out of 7). We've been practicing every day after school. I personally think penmanship isn't that crucial and definitely shouldn't be graded, but whatever. He worked his butt off and it paid off for him, and we're very proud! This morning he told me he doesn't want to be home-schooled, so I think that is a very good sign. We are still going to explore the option seriously, though.

In other Whidbey Island news, we had the world's shortest windstorm and power outage yesterday. As Grandpa and I were walking to meet Henry's bus, we heard a "CRACK" and a tree came down in the road right behind us. Mitch came home early and all the men in our little development came running with their toys chainsaws and gleefull smiles. Within minutes, their fun was over and the tree was cleared away. The power outage lasted less than an hour, which made me happy, although we were prepared with our lanterns and grill. Since moving here, whenever the forecast is for wind, I send the kids to school in layers because we inevitably lose power. Whose bright idea was it to have all those powerlines above-ground?

I was making my bed this morning and I heard fighting and screams from downstairs. Grace comes storming upstairs, crying.

"I hit Olivia, AND SHE HIT ME BACK REALLY HARD!!!!!"

So, you know, I laughed. Tattling on someone because they hit you harder than you hit them? That's just funny. Then, Grace stormed into her room to have an Indignation Meeting with her Barbies.

Save for the third grade (Mrs. Palmer, you may kiss my cottage cheese ass), Jack's always thrived in public school. Loved the structure, loved the rules, pushed himself to excel. We've never had a worry about him, in fact, if he brings home anything below an A grade, we worry that something must be wrong.

When Henry was about 18 months old, I distinctly remember watching him pull out all the drawers in the kitchen to use as stairs so he could reach the toaster. To put my credit card in. To just see what would happen. A drawer left slightly open: Jack would always close it. Henry would always dump whatever was in it out on the floor and see what he could create. In the years that preceeded Henry's entry into the system, Mitch and I would frequently discuss how Henry would handle the rigors of traditional education. Last year, kindergarten, he loved. Half day, no desks, lots of free play. This year, not so much. I've been spending every spare free minute in his classroom to try to determine why he hates school so much. He's not disruptive in any way, he's polite, he's not aggressive. He's just bored. The time wasted in getting all the children on the same page seems to be the biggest problem.

So! There is a program here that is run by the public school that is an arts-based home school program. The student attends core classes three mornings per week, and the rest of the education is provided by the parents. The families get to pick all the rest of the curriculum (approved by the program, of course). They also get to pick elective classes, like tumbling, music, piano, clay modeling, etc. The parents generally are present for many of these classes. If I can figure out a way to continue working in the girls' co-op preschool, we're thinking of taking Henry out of public school and do this amazing and terrifying (for me) program. With the girls on the cusp of kindergarten, the words of Michael Corleone keep running through my head "Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in..."

We had a great time at Sherman's pumpkin farm yesterday. The kids got to ride a trolley to their field to pick pumpkins out and no one even cried!
The kittens were popular with the younger kids.
Launching pumpkins into a neighboring field was popular with all....
Will the real jack o-lantern please stand up?

With the exception of one little thing, today has been a really good day around here. The little thing was this: I'm listening to Matt Lauer talk about yet another school shooting as I'm brushing my teeth, then I grab the three youngest and head out to Jack's school. I forgot to send him a note for missing school yesterday and that's just the kind of thing that stresses him out. I. Broke. The. Rules. So, we head to the school, which is a beautiful, brand new school, and right out front on a new little monument thingie was spraypainted: "JUST WAIT.....". Of course, Matt Lauer is still fresh in my mind and my throat gets clogged with my gut. My dilemma was, do I mention it when I go in to the office and risk looking like the overprotective wacko that I am (yes, my kids are forced to wear helmets when sledding on hills with trees), do nothing, or make an anonymous call to see if the message was seen as a threat? I passed the buck to my long-suffering husband to investigate, as he has contacts at the school.

Since we got the Bouncy House, I've been getting a lot of sleep. The kids are so tired from bouncing all day that they've been sleeping 11-12 hours a night. God Bless the Bouncy House. The girls had a great day at preschool today, then we went to Henry's school to drug him up a little so the spacers the orthodontist put in yesterday don't make him too achey. We found him on the playground, surrounded by a group of kids anxious to see the bloody holes in his mouth. He was having a great day, too, I could see. He took his motrin and bounded off to his soft lunch of soup, pudding, applesauce, and yogurt. And! No school tomorrow!

Update: I ended up calling the dean of students and he told me it was a rival football team that painted the rock, and the rock is there for the kids to graffiti on as they please, so, basically, I am a nutjob.

Well, he survived. It's a good thing he's going to be a pirate for Halloween. Look at that top row. In his hand he's holding his five teeth. It went so much better than I thought it would, probably because the dentist made me wait out in the waiting room. So, he's expecting a BIG wad of cash from the Tooth Fairy tonight and he's getting used to soft foods. Apple, anyone?