Memorial Day Weekend

It's been cuh-razy here, starting off with the graduation of my youngest babies from preschool. Including the part of the ceremony where Grace exited the bathroom with her dress tucked into her underwear. I saved the day before she went onstage, however, it was all for naught as she lifted her dress anyway. Marci and Mackenzie joined us for the event, and here are the kids at the beach the next day:

Saturday was the Memorial Day parade. I asked the marching politicians, from the curb, if they had any candy. When they said, "sorry!" My other sister, Kim, yelled, "looks like you just lost a vote!"

And here's my man and my boy marching with their team:

Sunday was the girls' birthday party. It was a fairy theme, and yes, I did make those cupcakes. Have I mentioned my obsession with cupcakes?

Here are the kids running for the fairy treasure hunt in the woods at the party:

Getting ready to bash in a fairy pinata. Buying the pinata was not the smartest choice. I think we made the forest fairies angry!

Olivia:

Grace:

Oh yes, and one of our new brood of baby chicks:

What goes around

Me: I don't know what's gotten into the girls lately! They are so obnoxious when we got to the store or the library or anywhere, and I'm trying to concentrate. They cackle and shriek and poke and laugh really, really loudly AND IT'S DRIVING ME INSANE.

Mitch: Welcome to the world I've lived in for the past 13 years.

Still not sure what he meant by that....

Misc. (and chickens are gross)

We enjoyed a hot and sunny weekend. Unfortunately, a fair amount of that time was spent in ferry lines. Saturday, the three youngest and I went down to Seattle for a birthday party at a jumping place while Jack won his first soccer game of the season and helped Mitch build a chicken coop. I know! Chickens are gross! Then, on Sunday Mitch took the boys to the Mariner's while I cleaned the house and the girls messed the house. Mitch and I have decided we're done leaving the island for the summer, because ferry lines suck, and we're hermits now. Hey, at least we'll have eggs to eat. Did I mention that chickens are gross, though? I thought I did.

Today I was volunteering in Henry's classroom. There was a sub, and she was kind of a bitch. I'd heard about her before from Henry, who is a tender heart and cannot cope with being yelled at. I know! He's my kid, he should be used to it! But, I actually don't yell at Henry, because he responds really well to gentle directives and loses his shit if he gets yelled at (I do yell at everyone else, though). So, the kids are all filing back into the classroom after a morning with their reading groups. I notice Henry is not among them. Five minutes pass, and the kids have all gotten their snacks and books out. I step outside the classroom to see if I can find out where Henry is, and I see a bit of orange clothing peeking from around the corner. It's my boy, and he was crying his little eyes out, too scared to go back into the classroom where that yelling bitch was. I brought him back into the classroom, and said, nice and loudly to him, right in front of her, "I'm sure that the teacher isn't yelling at you specifically, she probably is just having a bad day." Then I gave her a look that hopefully said, "yell at my kid and I will cut you, bitch" and went over the days events with Henry, pointing out that he had lunch, recess, and music with a different teacher, so he should be fine. Poor little monkey.

Reading and stereotypes.

Something clicked, and Henry has found a love of reading. Thank you, Magic Treehouse books! He's been reading one chapter book a day, and I am pleased as punch. Meanwhile, there was a discussion at preschool about "girl" toys and "boy" toys, so the girls came home and decided they would try playing with "boy" toys and got out Henry's matchbox cars:

Nighty night, baby Matchbox cars! I hope you're cozy-wozy in your widdle beds and wake up comfy womfy.

Stuff and things.

• Olivia cut her hair. Now she has bangs. Real purty ones. My fault, I guess, because I forbade her from cutting the dog's hair ever again.
• Mitch is going to be late tonight. My car, which he drove to work, has a flat tire. It's pouring rain and he's parked in the mud, and we have AAA, but AAA is for pussies, so he's going to change the tire in the muddy rain.
• Henry got hit by an errant baseball and had to have his orthodontia reworked.
• After we painted and decorated our tv room, the kids have decided it's more fun to watch television in Jack's stinky, messy room on a 19" screen.
• Henry closed his bedroom door in order to keep the dog from eating his action figures. Unfortunately, the dog was under his bed when he did it. Nine hours later, we discovered said dog and a floor full of action figure body parts.
  

Mother's Day

I was dubious about how my mother's day would play out when I awoke to the wail of "WILL SOMEONE COME AND HELP ME WIPE MY BUTT?" Followed by a little barf. Also, Mitch was ticked off last night when I confessed that I had actually dropped my cute , expensive cell phone in the toilet rather than what I originally led him to believe, which was that he got it wet while doing dishes. But, he forgave me and Olivia felt great after she cleaned out her system, and there was breakfast in bed, including, but not limited to, bacon. The day turned golden at the involvement of bacon. And homemade cards and tulips picked from the garden.The girls kept themselves busy having an egg picnic (we love our eggs, here), and a wedding for the potato heads. Note the toilet paper scotch-taped to Mrs. Potato Head's, um, head. Also, you may have noticed that in nearly every picture of my daughters on this blog, they are wearing their pajamas. We're lazy and we like to be comfortable. I have no comment beyond that, really.
The kids all played and left me alone to garden all day. Mitch had made a lot of extra pancakes for breakfast, and any time a kid said they were hungry, he just pointed them to the stack of cold, leftover pancakes on the counter. An interesting method, but I had the day off, and wasn't about to offer anyone anything healthy, so there it was. Yum!
I would have to say it was my best Mother's day ever. I didn't have any grand expectations this year, but my day turned out so peaceful and relaxing. I am sitting here right now drinking a little champagne while my husband cooks Thai mussels and salmon. My kids are still in their pjs and I have dirt under my fingernails from weeding. Happy Mother's Day to all you moms out there.

Elementary

I spend a lot of time in the elementary school here, volunteering and doing various things with Henry. More often than not, the girls are with me, and they know the school like the back of their hands. Today was their preschool field trip to the big school to see the kindergartens, and I didn't give it a second thought until their preschool teacher began discussing how big they were getting, and how proud they should be of themselves, etc. before we left preschool. I must have got some glitter in my eyes, because they sure leaked after that. The field trip was like seeing the elementary school for the first time. Both the girls and I were visibly nervous, and they held fast to each other, which was funny, because last year they walked into Henry's kindergarten every day like they owned the place. They got more confident as we walked through the school, even stopping by Henry's classroom, walking in, and yelling "Hi, Henry!" to him. It was a good field trip, but it wiped Olivia out and I had to carry her back to preschool.

When we got back, I got a call from the school on my cell phone. No, we didn't forget a four year-old. Henry got suddenly very, um, earache-ey? headache-ey? after he saw us walking though the school. I had no choice but to go back and assess him. He was so forlorn and miserable-looking that I took him home. I cancelled swim class, though, because if he's coming home sick, he sure as heck isn't going to have any fun. He sitting on his bed right now. Not having any fun. Dammit.

The girls have fallen asleep on the couch. The last time they took a nap in the middle of the day was a couple years ago. Either everyone is coming down with some sickness, or kindergarten is already kicking our ass.

Update: Henry made a miraculous recovery due to the loving ministrations of boredom and denial of screen. He asked if he could go back to school, but I said no, and gave him a heap of chores to do since he was feeling so great all of a sudden. Score one for moms.

Poop, sports, eggs, poop, shoes.

It's May and crazy. Baseball, soccer, a BIG birthday coming up, the end of school, swimming lessons, and regular stuff are keeping us busy. Certainly too busy to keep the house clean. Because normally, I keep it SPOTLESS. Henry has a big project at school. All the kids picked an animal and they're doing presentations on said animal at the end of the month. Henry picked gorillas for his animal, but he was having a hard time thinking of a hook, something the other kids would think was cool. That was until Google showed us a video of a gorilla eating his own poop.

I've never seen a kid have so much enthusiasm for school work.

He's loving baseball, and actually getting a lot of hits. The other day he asked me the difference between an Umpire and an Empire, and I came up with the lamest joke, but he hasn't stopped retelling it, because apparently, it's funny to a 7 year-old boy. The difference between an umpire and an empire? An umpire calls strikes and the Empire Strikes Back. I know, groaaaaaaaaan.

Jack is enjoying soccer. Last weekend, he volunteered to play with the opposing team, as they were short a few players and he scored the winning goal against his team. Bitter suh-weeeet. Also, he has decided he wants to build a chicken coop and start farming some organic eggs. I agreed under the caveat that I would not clean anything or have anything to do with the chickenshit. We all know how that rule worked out for me when we got a puppy a few years ago. But I do loves me some organic eggs.

The girls are busyplanning their flower fairy birthday party. Five years old already! Also, they are in dire need of shoes. I've ordered some online, and tried buying some, but they are so freaking picky about wanting their shoes to be snug, that I keep having to send them back. One of the things about living on an island that drives me crazy. Limited shoe options. Olivia has taken to wearing an old green pair of Jack's hiking boots everywhere she goes. They look great with all her pink dresses. Grace just keeps cramming her feet into her old pink shoes, because Olivia's old shoes, which would actually fit Grace, are blue and green, and that would never coordinate with her wardrobe. She has learned the old rule of beauty being painful sometimes at a very early age. I'm tearing up now.

Yee. Haw.

I have a new favorite show. I was up until 1:30 this morning watching a marathon. It's called My Big Redneck Wedding. Who knew they made camouflage-maternity-wedding gowns? And pretty much every wedding ends with a mudfight and everyone drives ATV's to the ceremony. My favorite scene was a bachelor party in which all the groomsmen and the groom threw bottle rockets at each other at close range in the dark. It's almost too much awesomeness for me to behold.

Seeing red

The tv room. It's 2pm, and yes, my daughters are still in their pj's. I consider it a head start on getting ready for bed tonight. I'm an economizer of time. Too red, do you think? I haven't decided, but since I'm in there maybe 10 minutes a day, what do I care?

Tiptoeing through the tulips.

Why, yes. We are giant dorks. That's how we like it.

As American as....

There's just something so stinking cute about baseball and little boys. It makes me all warm and fuzzy. And then, when he gets home, he's always hollerin' for eggs. Because eggs are what tough guy baseball players eat when they're done with a game.
When we were on our way home, I asked the girls if they had fun at Henry's baseball game. "Henry was playing baseball?" Sez Grace. Sigh. I wish I was making this up. That's their friend Morgan on the left. She could be one of mine.

Two rides.

Yesterday our preschool went on a field trip to the fire station. I left my camera at the school, and it's very unfortunate, because I would have really liked to have pictures of the uh, fireman firestation. All the moms eagerly volunteered to be strapped into the board, but alas, I was at the back and wasn't picked. The moms agreed that it was our best field trip yet. Then the firemen drove us back to preschool, riding on top of the hoses, down Main Street with the lights and sirens blaring.

Today I took the girls to Burlington because I had to make a dreaded, long-overdue trip to Costco. It's about 75 minutes from our house, and usually I bring a movie for the girls to keep their car-sickness prone eyes trained up to the screen, but I forgot. Aaaaaaaaand I'm sure you know where this is going.

They lasted until we were pulling into our driveway. Another 30 seconds and I would have been home free. I felt the splat against the back of my seat just as I was pulling the key out of the ignition. A little sympathy barf to go with it, and we were golden. But luckily! It was Mitch's car.

He let me use it so the girls could watch a movie on the long drive.

He survived.

Coming into the bay (he's the blondie in the blue and yellow vest)

My cutie McCutiepants arrived safely home yesterday. He had perma-grin for at least an hour, maybe more, until he remembered that he's an adolescent, and has to be sullen and put-out. They camped both nights on the uninhabited James Island, and apparently all the kids had free reign of the island, a la Lord of the Flies. I'm pretty much positive there was no teeth brushing, let alone Purelling of hands, but I'm willing to just let go of that. The rest of the family is mostly happy to have him home because they no longer had to listen to me saying things like, "I wonder what Jackie is doing. Do you think he's cold (or hungry, wet, lonely, etc.)?"

We spent most of the weekend painting. One coat of primer, three coats of REDREDRED in the tv room. It's a good thing we don't work on projects together too often, because I'm not sure our marriage could take it, and that's all I'm sayin' about that.

We also discovered that all six of us enjoy buffalo burgers last night, as Gary and Bernetta had us all over for dinner and mojitos. But not the kids, of course. No mojitos for them. They did get to bury a dead bird, which appeared to have been the highlight of the weekend for Henry.

Anddddd, he's off.

Mitch climbed up here (Deception Pass bridge) to wait for Jack's ship to go under so he could get a picture.
That's my firstborn, can you see him? By the cabin in the red hat. I wonder if he's cold or missing his mama. More importantly, Where do they poop?

Big Boy Trip

Tomorrow, I'm packing my boy off with 14 middle schoolers and four chaperones for three days on a 52 foot historic sailboat, so he can learn to sail, camp on various small islands, and come home stinky. One reason I love it here~ the cost of this trip? 25 bucks for food. It'll be a long weekend without him, because I'll have no one to laugh at my jokes. And I'll have to unload the dishwasher by myself, and no one will be too cool for cuddling. Also, after about 12 hours, the dog will stand by the window and whine until he gets home. That's real annoying.

Honey Bucket

Tonight was Henry's first baseball game. Well, second, really, but the first one was snowed out. Ahem. Anyway, it was a great game. The sun was finally out and all the kids seemed to be having a very good time. At one point, Grace had to use the bathroom, so I had to take her to the dreaded Honey Bucket. Now, I have a real problem with germs. I know! How can this be with four kids, and living in the country, too? But, it is what it is.

Olivia came with us, and while I was helping Grace (that is, making sure none of her bare skin touched ANYTHING), I told Olivia to wash her hands. I was holding out my Purell to her (Yes, I keep hand sanitizer in my pocket. Shut up.), but paying attention to Grace. I turned around to see why she wasn't taking the Purell, and there was Olivia, scrubbing her hands with the dirty urinal cake.

I passed out cold.

Dumb

It was a big, dumb weekend. Everyone was in different stages of this crud that's going around, there was snow murdering my innocent seedlings, and Mitch decided it would be a good time to wire the tv room for surround sound, so there was dirt everywhere. Why? Because you have to go UNDER the house to wire it, and everyone wanted to go under the house (except me, duh). All the furniture and toys from the tv room are spread all over the house, so there's piles of crap and dried mud everywhere, because we're painting next! RED!

Also, Olivia decided to tramp herself up in my bathroom while I was out trying to save my plants. I didn't take a picture, because my instinct was to keep her from thinking it was cute (which it was, in a hilarious, garish, hooker-clown sort of way). So, I washed her face, but painted her toenails and gave her some chapstick so she could feel four year-old fancy. Jack is still not back in school, but Henry and the girls are, so yay.

On the bright side, nobody barfed!

So wrong

Still snotty

This virus that's been keeping us down came back to our door this week, so it could kick Mitch and I in the ass. Oh, and Jack? Here's a kick in the ass for you, too, since you have WASLs at school this week. Now, did I get everybody at least once? Good.

Mitch would like everyone to know that there is a silver lining to all this snot and fever. It took my voice! Croak.

Also, we're expecting snow tonight, because I packed away all our warm coats for the summer (and when I say, 'packed away', I mean 'shoved in the back of the closet with my foot'). Oh, and I spent two weeks carefully setting out tender flower seedlings and planting my vegetable garden, so, yay. Snow.

Update: "Mrs. Henrysmom? This is Joyce, from the elementary school. Henry is here in the sick room with a fever."

Crusty

Well, if you want something done right around here, you've got to get some Duck tape and orange buckets and do it really wrong. Within about 12 hours, Mitch built this table for the Moon Sand bin, because he couldn't bear to look at my contraption (see below to refresh your memory). I know, I'm awesome. Next, I think I'll replace the ugly master bath lights with Christmas lights and a staple gun.

Today is the first day back for the kids after a nearly two-week long spring break. Of which we had about 1 and a half days where no one was sick. The girls are both on their second germ love-in, in fact, and are staying home from school today. Crusty, boogery goodness. They've watched The Red Balloon about 6 times in the last few days. I highly recommend this little French movie from the 1950's. It's short, and there's no dialog, but it's a great film. And it will make you feel like you're exposing your kids to art, rather than parking them in front of the tv so you can go check out gofugyourself.com without them snotting up your clothes.

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.