21 in dog years

What's the best way to celebrate your third canine birthday?

1. Chase deer out of your front yard.
2. Go to the most awesome off leash dog beach in the world with your mistress and her PMS hair and all those kids who drop yummy stuff on the floor.
   

3. Chase dogs and sniff their delectable poopy butts.
4. Hang with the boy who let's you sleep nose to nose with him on his pillow.
5. Take an impromptu ferry ride to pick up the boy's buddy and get lots of admiration from fellow travelers. Looking Feroche! of course.

6. Home again, home again. Jiggedy jig, to eat a birthday cheeseburger.

Swimmers

Well, I don't know what happened during their week off from lessons, but they both were swimming like fish yesterday. Well, like a fish and a, uh, beetle turned upside down on it's back and tossed into the water. But it's major progress for Miss Grace. Finally! And can I get an A-MEN!
This is her favorite outfit (for this morning, anyway). It all goes together in her mind. She also spends most of her time having imaginary conversations with her friends on her toy cell phone.

Yesterday, my delivery of Moon Sand (30lbs on major sale from Amazon) came. I had asked Mitch if he would be willing to make a little frame for the bin so the kids could stand next to it and play, but he just looked at me like I was crazy. Well, look who had the last laugh. And all I needed was some Home Depot buckets and duck tape. The look on his face? Priceless.



And finally, I won't show a picture of my checking account, because there's NOTHING to see in there, folks, just kindly move along, but Hellllooooooooooooooo Gorgeous:



It turns out no one was willing to start ordering pizza from the local pizza place after I've spent years lovingly cultivating each family member's favorite pizza. Like potato with aged white cheddar, rosemary, feta, and cracked pepper, lightly drizzled with olive oil.

He's a lucky man

Me: "Why are the girls not in their pj's? What is this poor parenting?"

Mitch: "Uh, I was busy cleaning the kitchen and you were surfing the internet for Jeez-Its."

My amazing weekend

We had a busy, busy weekend of not leaving the house. Well, Jack did ride his bike into town (on the road!) for the first time ever. He called, as instructed, when he arrived safely. He had bought an ice cream with his own money, but he was wondering if I would pay him back for the water he bought, since it was my fault for not reminding him to bring one. Seriously. Meanwhile, Mitch and I were busy gardening. At around 2, the kids were really getting loud with their complaints of hunger, so I threw some pb&j sandwiches at them for their first picnic of the year. I thought it was feed a cold, starve a fever, but if it's both a cold and a fever, I'm pretty sure it means you can feed them late.

Dang, I'm an amazing mother.

On Friday, Tragedy (yes, with a capital T) struck. I was teaching Jack how to make pizza, and for no apparent reason, my beloved mixer broke. I must have called Mitch at work five times freaking out or giving him internet-researched tidbits about broken mixers. I'm sure he was wondering why, with four sick kids, I was giving him updates about a mixer rather than our kids. But they can't make pizza the way my mixer can.

R.I.P.

Spring

Freshly tilled, ready and waiting to be planted. Those potatoes in the foreground were dug up by my sick kids today. Leftovers from last summer's garden. That's right. This is the country, and in the country there are no sick days. Get your coughing butts out there and dig up them potatoes.

The stinging nettle. The bane of my existence. In case you couldn't tell (with my new camera, you can even tell that I need a manicure!)

Dinner.

I made her some special chicken legs, but I don't have the heart to wake her feverish adorableness. That is too a word.
Shut your piehole.

Things I know right now

• If you wash all the bedding, including comfortors, pillows, and mattress pads, a minimum of two kids will wake up sick in the night.
• If you are on the first day of Spring Break, and you have all sorts of fun things planned, a minimum of two kids will wake up sick in the night.
• If your eleven year-old unloads the dishwasher, you won't realize that he misplaced the coffee maker lid (which you MUST have for the machine to work) until 5am, when you absolutely can't even think where to look. Aha! You say, but this lady has four coffee makers! I'm out of pods for my single serve machine, I packed up the espresso maker weeks ago, and the french press is dumb.
• Google sent someone to this site yesterday when they were searching for the phrase "using first pee of the morning to whiten teeth".
  
• The french press is dumb AND messy.
  

Lunch Lady . Happy April 1

This morning, Jack was dejectedly munching away on his eggs when the phone rang.

"Coupeville Middle School? Who could that be?" I said. Why, it turns out that I GOT THE LUNCH LADY JOB!!! Jack put his head in his hands, but I overplayed my enthusiasm and I could see it dawning on him that today was April Fool's Day. He did concede that this was my greatest prank ever. And that's saying something.

The Set Up

About two weeks ago, I was reading the local island paper.

"Hey Mitch! Coupeville Middle School is hiring a Lunch Lady for the next school year. That could be a perfect job for me, because I'd have the same days off as the kids, and I'd be done working by the time the girls get home from kindergarten."

"Wow. That does sound perfect. You could...."

At this point, Jack comes running into the room, protesting and basically losing his shit.

Over the next week and a half, Mitch and I would discuss the pros and cons of me being a Lunch Lady, but only when Jack wasn't in the room, and in hushed voices (making sure he was in earshot, though).

Tonight:

"I had my interview today. I think they really liked me (Jack is near tears at this point). When I asked if I could dress up like the kids on Spirit Days, they could tell I'd be really enthusiastic" (he's practically having a seizure ).

Jack spent about 20 minutes trying to talk me out of it, and then I said, "don't worry about the kids not thinking you're cool, Jack. I'm going to buy some really hip clothes like the kids are wearing these days and I'm going to speak their lingo so they think I'm one of your peeps."

By now, he's on the floor, twitching and writhing.

To be continued tomorrow.....

With these shiny shoes I watch thee wed.

Ah, wedding season has arrived. Mitch's family is very big, and most of his zillion nephews and nieces are of marrying age, so we generally go to 3 or 4 weddings (at least) every year. The girls think this is awesome. The boys? Not so much. They've all learned to make a mad dash for the tables at the reception to see what treats are spread about. Jackpot with personalized M&Ms! And, below. Wedding. Cheesecake. When I saw that, I wanted to marry the bride.

The girls popping wedding bubbles with a second cousin.

I was snuggling Mitch just the way Olivia is, above, and as soon as she saw me move away, Little Electra took my place.

Dear God,
Why are weddings so long? Why is there so much talking? Why does it take so long to get to the cutting of the cake? Why does my mom make me wear my shirt tucked in and these stupid, shiny shoes? When will it be my turn to play Tetris on mom's cell phone? How many times can I get away with asking if we can leave yet before my mom makes me do the Makarena for punishment? Love, Jack


Yesterday we spent the day spring cleaning, hauling 8 bags of clothes/toys out of the kids' rooms to pass along. Jack said it was a great day.

Mother Nature

Watching the snow fall. Today. On the seventh day of spring.

Mad Skillz

This morning, Olivia made a flying leap and grabbed her rain coat off of a very high hook.

Kate: "Wow, Olivia, you've got some skills!"

Henry: "I don't have any skills."

Olivia: "Yes you do! What about picking your nose with your tongue?"

Nothing says Easter like a baby pig

We spent the weekend happily frolicking with cousins and grandparents in Spokane, and while Mitch and I were out looking at RVs (no, we did NOT buy one), Uncle Mark and Nana took all the kids to a farm that is owned by a friend of Uncle Mark. Jack, who will do anything for a buck, dove into piles of pig shit to grab this baby pig on the $5 bet that he couldn't catch one. The real loser of this bet was poor Aunt Kimmy, who had to launder six kids' pig-shit-covered clothes. Below is a picture of Grace after she got completely stuck in pig shit, stepped out of her boot, and stuck her sock into it. A wonderful time was had by all, and my children have been begging me for a farm ever since. Also, nothing says spring like an Easter egg hunt while it's snowing. Or a leopard print thong inside a plastic egg.
My new camera was waiting for me on the front porch when we got home last night, and soon I will figure out how to use it. Yay!

Done making stupid pledges

Well, in January I pledged to go a whole year without buying even one pair of shoes. I lasted until March, so that's not too bad, right? Plus, they were on sale, so basically I had to get them. I still haven't bought any kitchen gadgets. Except the blender, but we make smoothies nearly every day, so I had to get that. Also, I've still cut way back on my latte buying. With the money I save on that alone, I deserve new shoes. Also, they're hiking shoes, and they're not even fashionable, so actually they don't even count.

Shut up.

I can't wait until she's sixteen.

Hallelujiah! My crappy camera broke! Dang. my trusty camera broke. I don't know how it happened. My loving husband finally opened his wallet enough to let the moths fly out and get me a new one. But he didn't pay the extra forty bucks for rush shipping, so it'll probably be a week before I get it. But yay!

This morning, I noticed Olivia lying flat on her back, wiggling up some new jeans that were given to her by a friend with an older, super-hip daughter. They're shredded, sequined, and embroidered. She is in love with them, but they're very, um, snug. Finally, she got them up over her hips, sucked in her gut, and snapped them closed. Then, she stood up, squatted, and did a little booty dance.

"Olivia, what are you doing?"

"Just settling my booty into these jeans."

The Wearin' O' the Green

She dressed herself for school today. Pretty much everything she owns that's green, she's wearing. Olivia is wearing no green today, and if anyone tries to pinch her, she'll stick a fork in their eye. She is boycotting St. Patrick's Day because that damned Leprechaun broke into our home last night and filled the kids' shoes with chocolate gold coins (which was okay) and drew magic marker green mustaches on everyone while they slept (which was not). And the green milk? Uh, no thanks. Fortunately, we have extra kids who enjoy a good prank now and again.

Mitch and Jack spent the entire day in Bellingham at the History Day presentation on Saturday. This project has been a thorn in all our sides, but especially Jack's, as he has not had any free time for weeks. His team was the only one who gave an audible cheer when they didn't win (meaning, more work for the state competition).

Yesterday, we almost got another dog, but I changed my mind at the last minute and bought three boxes of Girl Scout Cookies instead.

Plumbing excitement (I almost wrote excrement!)

Yesterday we all slept through the alarm, and it was a mad rush to get lunches packed and everyone out the door. Just as Mitch jumped in the shower, there was an ominous sound from the downstairs bathroom.

BLOOOOP.



BLOOOOP.


BLOOOOP.


I went to check it out just as the water in the toilet started flowing over the top of the bowl. The plunger didn't work, so I yelled for Henry to go get Mitch "and don't forget to tell him it's an EMERGENCY!!!!! Now run!"

Mitch came thundering downstairs, covered in suds and completely naked. He starts plunging away and Henry. Is. Dying. He positioned himself well out of Mitch's way and dropped to the ground, clutching his stomach in silent laughter. It turns out we had a clog in our septic system, so it wasn't as bad as we thought.

Later that morning, the girls' preschool teacher is holding up letters for the kids to guess and name some words that begin with said letter. She held up an "S" and all the kids shouted "S!". Then Grace yelled, "Septic!" and Olivia yelled, "Sewage!" I wanted to yell, "Shit!", but I didn't for obvious reasons. I didn't want to confuse the preschoolers with the "sh" sound.

Henry still hasn't stopped grinning at the mental image of his Dad in all his sudsy, naked glory.

Dumbass

Last night I was still battling the chills, so I found an old heating pad. And when I say old, I remember using said heating pad as a little girl. Do they even make heating pads anymore? Probably not, because they're DANGEROUS for stupid people like me. I laid it across my stomach and set it to high. Ahhhh. Blissful warmth. I kept it on there for a good long time, too, but I turned it off before I went to sleep, because I'm no dummy! I wouldn't want to burn myself.

This morning I woke up and my stomach hurt. A lot. Damn, I thought to myself, am I ever going to shake this bug? I got ready for my shower and glanced in the mirror. Hole. Eeee. Crap. Such an angry shade of red all over my lovely, squishy mid-section. I would post a picture, but then not only the proof of my idiocy would be there, but worse, the horrors of bearing four children would make you lose your breakfast. How on earth am I going to roll my stomach up to stuff it in my jeans today?

27 Dresses

On Saturday, I took the girls to Mount Vernon for a birthday party, but I'm not driving over an hour just for a birthday party, so I decided to let them pick out some fancy dresses for an upcoming wedding/Easter/their birthdays. We went to the mall (Woohoo! Real stores! Suck on that, Wal-mart!). They both fell in L.O.V.E. with the same dress. You would think, great, how easy, I can just buy them matching dresses, but NO. They don't want to match. That's for losers, not almost-five year-old twins. They were reaching near-hysteria over said dress, so we left the store with no one getting a dress. Five stores and 26 dresses later, we were back in front of the original dress, because Olivia spent two hours convincing Grace that she looked way cuter in the pink and green plaid dress than in the coveted flowery dress. Plus! it went with her hair! Grace, never one to make waves, tentatively agreed to get the second choice dress. I was ticked, because I really wanted them both to have the dresses of their dreams. They're nearing the age where they'll think fancy dresses suck, and I'm trying to get the most out of these girly years, here. Grace convinced me that she did love her dress and so I relented. We then went to the shoe department, and damn if they only had pink sparkly ballet flats in Grace's size. Karma, she can be a bitch. Overall, they were both pleased when we left the store, Olivia resigned to wearing the gold glitter shoes she already has.

The birthday party was at one of those giant playland places. Think McDonald's Playspace on steroids. It was kind of what I thought hell must really be like. About 90 degrees, hundreds of screaming kids, crappy pizza. It made dress shopping with the girls seem like a day at the park.

Yesterday we went down to Seattle for another birthday party. This one was for Mark, a big boy of 39. A good time was had by all, and just as we were getting off the ferry for home, I started getting chills. By the time we pulled into our driveway I was full-blown sick. I spent the night in bed, you know, unlike the rest of you, who probably spent the night doing fun things. Miraculously, though, I don't feel too bad this morning, so yay! Jack also woke up in the middle of the night with a migraine, and between all that and the time change, our house was a pretty grumpy place this morning (Although the girls have been skipping about, singing, "We got a flu shot, we're no-ott siiiiii-ick!"). Only Henry went to school.

The Blonde chain of command

Kate: "Grace, will you please put this book upstairs on my nightstand?"

Grace, walking into playroom: "Olivia, mom wants you to put this book on her nightstand."

Olivia, carrying book to Henry, who's watching tv: "Henry, mommy wants you to put this book on her nightstand."

Henry: "Grace, mom wants you to go put this book on her nightstand."

Grace: "Okay!" And scrambles up the stairs with said book. Oy.

I pink puffy heart Mr. Clean

Does anybody know what is in this? It's a freaking miracle product. So far it's gotten Sharpie off of the wall, that crusty ring of stuff off of my enamel cooktop, ball point pen off of Olivia's swimming doll (unfortunately the head still rolls off when she starts swimming), and untold grossness off of the shower doors. I'm thinking of dumping Mr. Mitch in favor of Mr. Clean.

Sick Day.

Ah, Spring. Henry was up at 1:30 and 5:00 this morning with a headache and allergies. Since my own head weighed about 75 pounds, you could say it wasn't the best night. When I walked into the tv room to nudge him into getting ready for school this morning, he was sound asleep. I called the school, and he woke up just as I was getting off the phone. He started crying and saying he was "Fiiiiiiiiiine! Please, mom, I don't want to miss school!"

"Why, Henry?"

"Because it's fun! And it's boring here."

Yes, this is the kid that is known for hating school. I think I must be doing my job well if he thinks it's more fun to go to the torture that is first grade than to stay home with me.

Week in Review

It's been a busy week, here in good ole' Coupeville. My oldest child has gotten his first F on a test, and also a D+ on a test, so I guess he's improving? He's working his butt off on this History Day project which finally ends at WWU next weekend, and you can bet he's trying to blame his poor academic performance on it. So, between the alarming slip of Jack's grades and Henry's ambitions to destroy his school, you could say we've had better weeks.

The girls are busy planning their birthday party, which isn't for three more months, so, you know, they'll be really ready, I guess. They're also swimming during the day now, because Henry is starting baseball next week in the evenings (coached by the broken-bodied Mitch). Now that Grace has moved up to level 2, she thinks she no longer has to even attempt to put her face in the water, and she spends her whole lesson avoiding my murderous gaze.

The dog seems to have rolled in something really, really dead, and Project Runway is over. Sadness.

Sigh.

"Mrs. Henrysmom? This is Henry's teacher? Mrs. Soandso? I was wondering if you could stop by for a moment today to discuss something with me."

Crap. Crappitycrapsticks. I get to the classroom and Mrs. Soandso has a very serious face.

"On Friday the children were talking about what they wanted to be when they grow up, and I really hate to have to tell you this, but Henry said he wanted to be be someone that demolishes schools." Then, she sits back a bit so I can fully comprehend the shock she's wearing on her face.

I didn't exactly burst out laughing, but I did bite my lip pretty hard to keep myself in check.

"I see. Well, as long as long as he's been able to talk, Henry's had the dream to be a wrecking ball operator, but more importantly, his Dad's job is basically demolishing schools and rebuilding them. I think it's pretty safe to say that Henry in no way poses a threat to the safety of this school, if that's what you're worried about. I think he's just combining his dream job with his desire to follow in his father's footsteps." At this point, the students had all filed in and I noticed Henry listening very intently to this conversation. And if that little shit didn't have the cat that swallowed the canary grin on his face...

Pretty far from Wisteria Lane

This is my Wisteria vine. I pruned it. Too much, do you think? The only thing I can move freely is my fingertips from all the gardening I did, so Lucky You, dear readers reader. That took me most of the weekend, but we did do other things as well. We had bacon. Jack had his buddy Dylan up from Seattle, and they were Very Big Boys and went to the Mussel Festival by themselves with their Big Boy cell phones. Then, they came home, walked down to the beach, and caught some baby eels in a jar. Dylan cut his finger, and he wrote "I'm going to get you" on a rock with the blood. They played some video games, too, so all the important bases were covered: independence, blood, video games.

Haircut

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

Victory!

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

Crybaby

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

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

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

Hey, Al Gore, look at the bright side!

Dear Global Warming:

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

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

Signage

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

God Shed His Grace on Thee

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

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

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

Charlie, that REALLY hurt!

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

The only thing missing is Juan Valdez sitting on my counter

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

Laying down roots

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Working their fingers to the bone

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

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

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

Timber!

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

Bangs

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

One Hundred

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

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

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

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

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

Glue and hearts and love and butts

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

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

I pink puffy heart Valentine's day

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

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

Trying not to float away

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

Headed for the slammer

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

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

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

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

Windy miles an hour

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

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

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

Wednesday already?

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

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

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

Mr. Mom

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

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

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

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

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

A Distant Third

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

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