At last!

Snow day.

Bah Humbug, but in a good way. Really.

Dear friends and family. Look at the calendar! It's December 11. Now, look up to the top of your screen. There's your Chrismas card from us this year. What do you mean, that's the card we used last year? Haven't you heard? Recycling is the new black. We're just doing our part. Oh, I suppose I could have made some fabulous and quirky Christmas card over the past two weeks while we were busy installing floors. The truth is, I was far to busy sitting in a corner, banging my head against the wall and wiping drool on my sleeve. Also, I bought two premade gingerbread houses for the kids to decorate this year. I know! No slaving away for two days in the kitchen, cutting Mitch's blueprints out of gingerbread dough, melting candies into stained glass windows. I'm cutting back on things I don't think the kids really care about in favor of actually spending time hanging out with them.

SERENITY NOW!

The goose is getting fat

Look! It's our very own toy soldier. Jack was in the big Christmas parade on Saturday, marching with the high school band. I know he's not in high school, but he's a warm body, and in Coupeville, that's pretty much all you need. Also, when I said "big" Christmas parade, I meant it lasted about 20 minutes, but a good time was had by all, thanks to copious amounts of candy being passed out.

We also got our tree this weekend. Doesn't it look like a wholesome family outing? Picture the opinions of five, um, opinionated people and one sullen adolescent all trying to agree on which tree was "the one". Henry wanted it to be huge, Grace wanted to to be pretty, Olivia wanted it to not be touching any other trees, Mitch wanted it to be architecturally relevant (my words, but that's what I think he meant when describing his opinion of a good tree), and I wanted it to not be a Douglas fir so I wouldn't be vacuuming up needles every day. Jack was cold and wanted to go home, because he's way too cool to wear a real coat. In the end, we got a lovely noble fir, and went home to watch Mitch tinker with our ancient, but architecturally relevant tree stand long enough for the tree to actually fall over on my head. Under the threat of divorce, he finally conceded and bought a new, ugly but sturdy tree stand. Happy Holidays, baby.

All that glitters

Henry's second grade teacher informed me today that she usually only gets the glitter out once a year. Today was my volunteer day. Guess what I got to be in charge of?

Fantasy shoes

I still don't have any floors. I'm trying to be relaxed about having all my furniture piled in one room and walking on subfloors, and as long as I keep taking my beta blocker, it's not too bad. Yesterday, I left Mitch with the kids for twelve hours while I went shopping over in America with Jessica. I'm pretty good like that. He even was able to get some flooring done, which means twelve hours of dvds he is pretty awesome.

Part of my quest yesterday included searching for some cute but sturdy shoes for winter. Shut up. I really do need some practical shoes. Whatever. I found nothing that fit the bill, but I stopped dead in my tracks when I spied these beauties. Of course, having the feet of a transvestite, the saleswoman said they didn't have the red ones in my size, just the black. AND she said they didn't even make the red ones in my size. I felt very, very, sad, like I was six and Santa had brought me a shiny new bike, only to take it away and poop on it and throw it in a fire.

I dropped Jessica off at home, did some more city errands, and hit the ferry. Jessica called me when I was almost home to say she'd spent a lot of time searching the internet, and indeed, the saleswoman was correct. No red shoes in my size. Ever. Anywhere. This morning, I still felt empty inside, so I checked Amazon, just as a last ditch effort, and............................ THEY HAD THE SHOES OF MY DREAMS IN TRANSVESTITE 11!!!!!!!! They'll be here on Wednesday. I'm wearing them to the Nutcracker on Christmas Eve with the family. They'll probably hurt, but they'll be so cute that it will be worth it. And I'm forty, for crying out loud. I need to kick it up a notch. And that concludes three paragraphs about a pair of shoes none of you has any interest in, but, OMG!

Next stop, Depends.

Dear internet,





Yesterday, Grace came home from school and said, "Mommy! Today I asked all the kids in the class how old their moms were and guess what?"

*crickets*

"You're the winner!"

At least I'm pretty certain I'm the least mature mom in the class.

Chicken feed for nightclubs

If we'd never moved to the country, and I'd never agreed to let the kids get chickens, then I'd never know about this product:



You know, it may surprise you to know that I go for weeks at a time without even looking at the chickens, because it does seem I do most of my writing about them. I actually don't give them much of a thought, save for Hef, the rooster. And that thought is that he belongs in a pot of boiling water.

"But you always wake up before him!" exclaim my family when I complain or sigh every time he crows. It isn't that I hate him now, it's that I'm hating him in advance of this summer when I don't have to get out of bed in the dark to make five lunches and breakfasts...

Free range and organic, too!

My kids have all grown to love the eggs they collect from the chicken coop every day. When I give them their breakfast choices in the morning, and if eggs are on the list, they all ask,

"Are they fresh out of the butt?"

Because nothing beats eating an egg that is still warm from a chicken's butt. Or so I'm told.

Lego mania

Henry's Lego birthday party on Saturday, in which a blue cake in the vague form of a Lego was served. No reports on blue poop the next day. The pinata was spray-painted, then stuffed with toys and candy. Later, I had to call all the parents to tell them the candy tasted like spray paint and to throw it out. God, I'm awesome at throwing parties.






Henry was beyond thrilled to have both friends from his old house and his new house attend. Sunday, I was in a funk the likes of which could only be cured by viewing Colin Firth movies in which he's wearing tight Victorian era pants or a sweater of some sort. Mitch obliged me by taking all the children to launch a rocket over at the football field.

The Principal's Office.

Mitch and I were called in to the middle school principal's office to meet with both the principal AND the school counselor today. They even made us wait for three terrifying minutes on the chairs I'm sure are reserved for troublemakers. This was my first trip ever to the principal's office (since I'm so good), so I asked Mitch for some pointers (ha, ha, hi honey!) on what to expect.

It turns out Jack isn't getting kicked out of school, but has had some behavior issues related to being bored in school, especially math. Generally, conduct unbecoming a class president. Also, he's been challenging authority and being obnoxious in class. I don't know how on earth he ended up with those two character traits. Why couldn't he have inherited an unnatural love of shoes or extreme skill with a miter saw (I don't really know what a miter saw is, or if it even is a real tool, but I'm sure you get my point.)?

We kicked around ideas after I squelched my urge to scream, "You must have the wrong child! I breastfed him! He's an angel from heaven! I feed him whole grains and have a firm but loving hand in discipline!" Meanwhile, I'm sure my husband was all, "Yes!!! Question authority! Fight the Power!" We talked about moving him up a grade, but first the school is going to try and give him more challenging work. He doesn't want his friends to know he's smart, so we're going to work on How To Not Act Like an Asshole to Prove You're Not Smart at home.

Now I've got to go take three boxes of cake mix and turn them into a Lego brick.

The end of Fists of Fury?

Jack's favorite pastime is pestering Olivia until she flies at him in a rage, all hair and fists and feet. He thinks it's hilarious, and it actually is, but I told him it has to stop. Olivia is enjoying her reputation for being a brute too much. Jack ignored me until this week, when I decided that every time he provokes Olivia, he has to pay her one dollar. Harmony!

That is, until Henry offered to pay the dollar for Jack.

Dear America,

I hate glitter, because it's the Devil's craft supply. But today, I pink puffy heart you with glitter and ribbons and rainbows.

Love, Kate

Vote (and not just for the free Starbucks).

Go vote! Here in Washington, voting is so civilized. No waiting in long lines, you can just pop your ballot in the mailbox. It's heartening, though, to see Americans standing in line for something other than a raincheck for $500 off on a plasma tv. I can't take the suspense. Tomorrow, my day is so full, I will only be home between 4:30 and 5:30, barely enough time to shove food in the kids before we go to Jack's Middle School Band Concert. It's capitalized so you know that it can't be skipped to watch CNN. I'm sure I won't be the only parent with ear buds plugged in to NPR. Well, I probably will, but the rest will be plugged in to some conservative station...

Seven words that annoy me

"I just need to beat this level."

Pop!

Birthday Bubble Wrap from Kate on Vimeo.

We spread bubble wrap on the floor to greet Henry on his eighth year of life. Pay no attention to my messy kitchen.

Eight

Breakfast in bed with Dad, who was busy installing flooring on his birthday. He still sleeps with his stuffed animals tied together with his bathrobe tie, so they don't get lost in the night. I've been told by parents and teachers that when he walks the girls to their kindergarten class, he kisses them both on the forehead. His favorite food is homemade mac & cheese, favorite reads are Tin Tin, Harry Potter, and Captain Underpants. He loves to collect eggs from the chickens, play with Legos, hang out playing video games with his brother, collect the mail, and go on errands with mom or dad (but no siblings). He hates to take showers, unload the dishwasher, collect the newspaper, and ride the school bus. Seven has been a good year, and I think eight will be great.

Give me something good to eat. Please.

"Trick or Treat!"

I have a houseful of cranky, under-rested, over-sugared kids, but who doesn't? I have no pictures of Jack's Halloween costume. He went as a "Cereal" killer, which involved a lot of boxes of cereal in which the characters had their eyes "X"-d out and little plastic knives and arrows. It was clever, but he recycled it before I got a picture. Henry went with a buddy, our first time without him for Trick-or-Treating, and I didn't like it, but he had a blast, and so did the girls, who attended three parties in one day.


Bacon and Eggs, and his best friend, Toast


Something tells me we're not in Kansas anymore



A sweet flower fairy


The Sorting Ceremony


Trying to make a candy angel.

Dinner conversation

Kate: Grace, what was the best thing and the worst thing about your day today?

Grace: We played volleyball in PE. It was fun.

Henry: Did you make a goal?

Jack (laughing): It's not called making a goal, Henry!

Olivia: Yeah, it's called making a basket.

Grace: The worst thing was that Olivia was really mean to me in PE.

Kate: Is that true Olivia?

Olivia: Yes. Can I have some more mashed potatoes?

Finding your kids' currency

I have lots of pics of our weekend to post tomorrow, but I just wanted to say that I am so incredibly awesome. Jack's room was getting filthy. Beyond filthy. I've asked him repeatedly to clean it himself and he comes up with all these ridiculous reasons why cleaning is redundant, unnecessary, and interferes with his homework (as if he ever actually did homework). So! I just finished vacuuming his room and am taking ten bucks out of his allowance for a cleaning fee. Guess who's going to start cleaning his own room now?

A dumb, weird day

I spent my morning counting thousands of stupid box tops for the school, then picked up the girls for swimming lessons. They are learning to dive, and they love it, so that was a good part of my day.

Now, I'm not sure if I've mentioned it or not, but I HATE Wal-mart. Oh, I have mentioned it? Well, nothing's changed. I had to go in there today to buy some Halloween cupcake things for the kids' parties at school. While I was staring intently at the piles of orange and black crap, Olivia said, "Mommy, Grace hit me!"

"No, I didn't!" Grace said. I wasn't even going to respond, because I knew Grace wouldn't be crazy enough to engage in combat with a bonafide Tasmanian Devil. Anway, this woman, a complete stranger, came up to Grace and started wagging her finger in Grace's face and telling her not to be a liar. Grace was in tears before Olivia came clean and said Grace only pretended to hit her. I told the lady to back off, threw the damn cupcake liners back on the shelf and left. Effing Walmart.

On the way home, my cell phone rang.

"Mom?" I could tell it wasn't good news.

"Yes, Jack?"

"I've got detention, so you'll have to pick me up today." Wha, wha, what? It turns out that all he's been doing in school for the past two months is twiddling his thumbs because he worked ahead last year and now is completely bored. So he's started acting up. The last and only other time Jack's been in trouble in school was back in kindergarten when he arrived late, couldn't find his teacher, so he just decided to walk home.

Stupid day.

A glimpse inside Grace's head

"Mommy, I really want to have some friends from my school over. They don't believe I live in a palace."

"Well, that sounds great, I'll just have to get their phone num.....what do you mean, they don't believe you live in a palace? You don't live in a palace."

"Well, I mean, it looks like a palace, but they don't believe me."

"What about our house makes it look like a palace?"

"You know, the things on the outside and the pond. It looks like the thingie the handsome prince has to ride over with alligators in it."

"Well, Grace, do you think a handsome prince is going to ride his horse past our water feature and up our front porch to rescue you from your life of misery?"

"No, Daddy would shoot him."

Forty one

One of these sleeping beauties is 41 years old today. And not in dog years, either. I honestly don't know how he puts up with me, but he does, and I feel pretty lucky. Happy Birthday, light of my life. When are you going to finish the floors exactly?

Laborers for hire

Will work for goldfish crackers

The Chicks Next Door

A short time after we moved here, Jack and Mitch began pestering me to agree to getting some chickens. "No, they stink." I said.

The next summer, we had six baby chicks. They grew into big fat hens, and you know what? They stink.

Next, Mitch and Jack decided we needed a rooster so they chickens would be motivated to lay more eggs, because nothing motivates a girl to have babies like having a guy bossing her around. "No, they make too much noise," I said.

Yesterday was a big day for our chickens. One of the hens laid our first egg. Yay! Sadly, though, a hawk got one of the hens. Boo! That evening, Mitch brought home a rooster donated by his assistant and chicken goddess, Linda. And he's cute. Yay!

Henry named him Hef. Yeah, like that Hef.

But he makes too much noise.

First apartment

I've been trying to clear out two main floor rooms so we can begin the task of installing new flooring. Yesterday, I put the girls' kitchen center and little table in their room, and set it up like a little studio apartment. I had visions of them inviting me in for a tea party. They squealed with delight when they saw it, shut the door on me, and I haven't seen them come out since.

*sniff*

My Triangle

Not to mention the hypotenuse...

Hick Weekend

I harvested the last of my vegetables from the garden and we moved the chicken coop to it, so they could clean it up and poop everywhere. Next year, we'll have delicious, chicken poop-covered veggies. The chickens were so excited by the bounty that they were running around like, well, themselves with their heads cut off. There is no end to the fun to be had here in Coupeville.

Yesterday we did the annual trip to the pumpkin patch. A good time was had by all.

Why I pink puffy heart Sesame Street

Dog poop and chickens

So, I got a new pair of shoes. I wish the story ended there, but of course it doesn't. We were in a rush to get out the door for school this morning, and the only shoes I could find were my new ones, which really didn't look great with the sweats I was wearing, but who am I trying to impress, anyway? As the girls were loading into the car, I noticed the chickens making a lot of racket. Every instinct in my body was screaming to just ignore them and get into the car, but of course, I went to see what the problem was. It turns out that SOMEONE forgot to feed and water them yesterday because he was too busy not doing his homework, and they were freaking out. Henry and I were rushing to take care of them without getting to school late, and in my haste, I stepped squarely into a giant pile of dog shit. So, at least my new shoes go better with my sweats now.

Popcorn, anyone?

When our country is on the brink of financial ruin, what do smart people do? Refinance their house so they can do some remodeling, that's what. Because nothing says Depression like new cherry floors, stainless steel appliances, and Corian countertops (granite emits radon now, adding to the long list of Things That Can Kill You or at least Cause Kate to Lie Awake Obsessing About night after night). We couldn't configure two ovens into the kitchen without removing a wall and spending six months under construction, a prospect that made my eyeball twitch, so the compromise was a convection microwave. At three times the cost of a regular microwave, this caused my long-suffering curmudgeon of a husband no end of grumbling. But! I can cook three pizzas at once! In theory, anyway. After a lot of trial and tribulation, the micro-oven was finally installed late into night. I awoke the next morning at 5:30, anxious to try out this fancy new oven. I cooked one tray of cupcakes in the old oven, and one in the convection microwave. I didn't need to read the directions or anything, because, hello? Cupcakes? I can make them in my sleep. The billion dollar oven cupcakes are on the left, in case you can't tell.








And.......








Drumroll, please.........





At least the new microwave makes a mean bag of popcorn. And it's shiny. Pay no attention to the bottom right corner of the picture.

Tea Party

We've decided not to have a Halloween bash this year, what with all the home remodeling projects we have going on and just being tired in general, but Mitch opened up the Halloween decoration boxes and let the kids have at it. I don't think he's ever been prouder when he saw this adorable creation Olivia set up by herself. A skeleton tea party! Complete with a baby skeleton. How cute is that? Sooo cute.

Misc.

I don't post for a week, and then two posts in one day. It's feast or famine, here. I've felt completely overwhelmed this week with a sick kid, the stupid PTA and their stupid box tops that I'm in charge of, soccer in the howling, freezing winds, and a lot of other things that I can't think of right now, but you can bet that they're equally annoying. My house looks like a bomb went off in it and half my kitchen appliances have been removed to make way for the new ones. Some of which aren't even here yet. Mitch just told me we're having his entire family for dinner tomorrow night. I hope they like whatever they're getting on my non-existent appliances. I've heard you can poach salmon in the dishwasher! Whatever, I'm so happy that my girl isn't going to be permanently deaf that nothing is bad news right now. Except our retirement accounts, but isn't everybody's? I can just be grateful that we tend to put most of our eggs in the real estate basket. Oh, wait... Also, I have a huge mosquito bite right in the middle of my forhead that looks like a mutant boil. So, so pretty. Ramble much?

Henry has actually become quite the little soccer player. Only, he's a foot taller than all the other kids, so I guess he isn't "little". This is the first season he's ever played a sport where he wasn't daydreaming in the outfield. Snack is still his favorite, though, and he still cries harder than the kids he accidentally kicks (out of guilt). He's also loving school this year, which makes me want to piss myself with happiness after last year. He's even started riding the bus again. Sometimes, I spy on him at recess when I come to pick up the girls from kindergarten. I'm amazed that he's running around in a pack of boys, pushing each other and having fun.

Grace spent the week at school without her other half, and has done amazingly well. The bully hasn't bothered her at all. Nana had the wonderful idea that since Grace had such a gentle nature, she should look into the bully's eyes the next time he pulled something with her, put her hand on his arm, and say, "Please stop that. I don't like it." She did it last Friday, and not only did the bully stop AND apologize, but now she has him sharpening her pencils. Oy.

Jack is at the age where he thinks we suck, and we force him to be respectful or we'll take his bedroom door, so that's been fun for me. I just carry around a screwdriver and do really embarrassing things, daring him to mouth off at me. There's a new kid at his school who is apparently giving him a run for his money in the academics department, and Jack's actually been cracking his books this year. He's also taken Henry under his wing and teaching him the Ways of the Tightwad.

Olivia just walks around saying, "I can't hear you." Before anyone has even said anything.

Ears.

I've spent this week home with a sick, feverish kid. When I asked Olivia if her ears hurt, she said no. Today she woke up pretty much completely deaf. Dr. Google said it might be meningitis or worse, so we took her right in, thoughts of teaching the family sign language, hearing aids, etc., churning through my mind. Turns out she has about the worst ear infection the doc has seen. In both ears. He asked her if they hurt.

"What?" is what she said. Of course. She'll likely not be able to hear well for a few weeks, which is a problem for her twin sister, who really LIKES TO BE HEARD.

Cooking 101

The shirt says, I WAS RAISED ON THE STREET. Because my little munchkin is one tough cookie.

I've started teaching Jack to cook, so he can win friends and influence people. Or, " score points with the babes" as he defines it. Whatever. I wanted everone to like his first dish, so we went with Swedish meatballs and pasta. Who doesn't like meat and balls mixed with carbs?

When it was time to cook the pasta, I had him fill a big pot with water and told him to add a dash of salt.

"Oh yeah, is that because salt is ionic and will affect the H-bonds between water molecules and make them weaker and make it easier for them to break apart into the gaseous state, so it boils faster?" says Mitch's son.

"Nooooo, it's because salt tastes good. Now shut up and cook." Okay, I didn't exactly tell him to shut up. But I wanted to.

Whatever the reason for salting the pasta water, Jack's first dinner was very tasty, and every bite was eaten. Because it was perfectly seasoned.

Misc. with a side of snot

I was just cleaning pictures of my camera and came across these photos of my mud-loving girls, taken the last hot weekend we had, before everything got gray and windy. My girl Grace loves the feel of mud on her feet and stood inside her mudpies all day.
When I brought Olivia home from school with a headache, Grace wasn't about to be outdone. If she'd had a turban, she would have worn it. She declared she was too "weak and exhausted to go to school without Olivia". I was too weak and exhausted to argue with her, so we all stayed home and watched the Wizard of Oz studied academics.
Mitch took the boys on an 8 mile hike to some caves, and when they got home, I heard repeated accounts of how I "would have fuh-reaked out, mom, it was so dangerous in those caves".
The girls were none too sick to put the garbage cans away, in their cheetah print robes, of course. I rounded out the week with a trip to the ER to get an injection of my favorite migraine cocktail. Now we're all on the mend, wading slowly through rivers of drying snot.

Pears.

"Mommy, these apples taste soooo much like pears!"

"That's because they are pears, Grace."

Mother of the Year

All of the kids felt crummy this morning, with various stages of the cold the new school year brought into our home. Jack was the only one with a fever, and the girls were begging to go to school, and Henry decided that since there were no video games on sick days, he might as well go to school with the girls. Jack settled onto the sick couch while I ferried the youngest three off to school. I checked the girls in and went out to the playground to check on Henry one last time before I went home. He was sitting down with his head in his hands, so I convinced him to ditch school and come home with me.

About an hour later, I got a call from the school secretary: "You have another soldier down. Olivia just threw up all over the hallway." Three minutes later, as I was walking through the school doors, Grace was coming in from the playground with the playground teacher, blood pouring from her nose. She fell and hit it on the monkey bars. I carried my vomit and blood covered babies out to the car and went home, feeling like the worst mother ever. Checked on the dinner in the crockpot, which I had forgotten to plug in! Four hours ago! Parasites!

Oh, and the washing machine is broken. Someone left screws in their pockets again. Barfy, bloody laundry! Grace came and sat in my lap with a very sad face, "I thought this would be a great day, but it is making me want to cry." Thank God I have a secret stash of chocolate that we could sneak behind the sick kids' backs....

Parasites, of course

Mitch is a lot more lenient when it comes to what he let's the kids watch on TV. And by that, I mean, I've walked in on him and Henry watching a cage fight, and he had Jack hooked on roller derby before he was out of diapers. A few weeks ago he let all the kids watch a show on the Discovery channel. Sounds educational, right? Well, it was. Very freaking educational. It was all about parasites, and how easy it is to get them from uncooked food and other sources found in the far reaches of our planet. The program also showed the removal of 12-foot long tapeworms from people and the various effects of parasites on the human body.

Now, ever since Henry viewed that program, he is completely OBSESSED with getting parasites. He won't pet the dog. Every plate of food that is set in front of him has to have been cooked to 165 degrees, and if it's meat, he actually will get the digital meat thermometer out. The lice lady at school came to check the entire student body last week and Henry nearly fainted during his hair check. This is my life, would you like a plate of bloody meat from the jungles of Africa? Served by a clown with really sharp teeth?

Friday, finally

It seems like Monday was a century ago. The boys have settled into their school routines pretty easily, although Henry is wiped at the end of the day. Putting clothes AND shoes on every day, let alone only getting one breakfast instead of First Breakfast and Second Breakfast has done a number on him. He likes his teacher, though, and more importantly I like his teacher (well, yes, it is all about me, why do you ask?).

Kindergarten has proven to be tricky. I can't believe we've had to deal with bullying already (no, Olivia was NOT the culprit), but for the past few days, at least, all has been peaceful and, as Grace says, "glorious" at school. I've been unbelievably proud of how my girls have stuck together and looked out for each other.

I'm sure you're wondering what I'm doing with all my free time. I walk the dog and my fat ass, look at shoes online, and think about cleaning stuff. In a weak moment, I agreed to an untold number PTA volunteering positions, and that is taking up a lot of time, so I can't really get the house too clean. That's my story, anyway. Also, I'm very busy stalking the playground to make sure no one is messing with Grace. Fortunately, there is a walking trail next to the playground where I can look like I'm just another fitness-conscious mom, rather than a psycho stalker who's ready to go all, "The Hand that Rocks the Cradle" on a certain bully.

Another one rides the bus

The girls begged all weekend to ride the bus to school today, despite Henry's best efforts to dissuade and disillusion them. He agreed to go along, though, you know, just to make sure no one offered them a cigarette.
There's a kind of parent known as a "bus chaser". It appears I am that kind of parent. Shut up.

Yep, I'm still on their tail.......

They arrived safely at school, although it appears Olivia moved to her own seat and Grace has acquired a seat-mate. I can't wait to tell Mitch that Grace was sitting with a boy on the bus.
And, like a total dork, there I am to take picures like a stalking paparazzi.

KinderEffingGarten!

They woke before 6am, which wasn't a problem, as I had been up for hours. Olivia wanted a hair-do. This may not seem like a big deal, but it's pretty much the first time in her life that I haven't had to wrestle her to the ground just to comb her hair, let alone put anything fancy in it. She picked the biggest, brightest hair-bows we had. They walked around all morning with their backpacks on, until it was finally time to go. Mitch kept giving me sympathetic looks and I kept giving him the finger (okay, it was behind his back--sorry, babe).
Here they are about to enter through the doors of The System. I am still feeling pretty calm at this point. I'm even feeling optimistic that the waterproof mascara was for nothing.
They settled right in. I noticed that they had been placed at opposite sides of the room, but they seemed okay with it. This is the point where Mitch saw that a.) they were happy, and b.) I was about to lose my shit after all, so we hugged them goodbye hastily. He steered me out of the room quickly and I blubbered all the way to the parking lot. We were going to go out for breakfast, but the last thing I wanted to do was sit down and talk about this new chapter in our lives, so I sent him packing off to work and I went and ran errands.
They seemed to have had a wonderful first day, with a few exceptions. Apparently, I gave them two of Olivia's jackets and they had a fight and burst into tears at the end of the day, but I think it was probably due to the stress of keeping it together for several hours that sent them over the edge. Also, Grace had a hard time with the rule of raising your hand when you have something to say. "Mommy, that is a dumb rule. My hand was tired all day because I always have something to say." Indeed.

Olivia was ticked off that recess was only fifteen minutes and declared that she hated recess because of it. Also, they couldn't BELIEVE that one of the kids thought the sugar and cream bowls in the play tea set were CUPS! I said that maybe this little girl had never had a proper tea party and perhaps we should invite her over for one. The idea of never having a proper tea party shocked them into silence. Olivia said she made a friend, which I'm sure wouldn't have happened if they'd been placed next to each other in the classroom, so I'm filled with hope. We sat on the couch and they climbed on my lap when we got home. Olivia asked me to squeeze all the love out of her guts because it had been hurting her a little all day. *sniff*

Gratuitous cute shoe shot

Transitions

The boys are almost through their first week of school, and I guess if I had to define the transition, I would say it was going "as well as can be expected". Like most things in our family. Henry's new attitude is helping. He's going outside his comfort level and playing with new friends. His new teacher has rules and expectations and organization. Which, for Henry, is going to be huge. His need for order may or may not have something to do with being raised by a control freak.

Jack is trying something new this year, too. Not shoving all his papers into the bottom of his backpack. So far, he's only tried putting things away neatly once, but, you know, baby steps. By far the biggest transition is at home. We have decided to eliminate tv and video games completely on school days. In previous years, it was allowed, but limited to one hour total screen time each day. Out of boredom, the poor children have been forced to interact with each other, read more books, and go outside.

My comfort level has also been tested. My tendency toward agoraphobia gets pretty severe during the summer months, and going out of the house several times a day to drop off/pick up kids and interact with grown-ups in a way that doesn't bring shame upon our house is always a challenge.

Tomorrow, the girls start kindergarten. They say they are excited, but Grace won't poop and Olivia had her first vomiting migraine yesterday, so obviously they're a little nervous. Today was their orientation/meet n' greet with the teacher, who mentioned that she doesn't have parent helpers until October. I volunteered to stand in the corner and hold the kids' coats or something, and I could tell she was mentally clicking off a "crazy" checkmark for me. Like that would stop me. I scoped out a place in the bushes outside the window where I can hide and spy. That is, before I go home. By myself. Just me and the dog.

Alone.

Oh, and Mitch, don't think I'm going to have any extra time to do the dishes, because I'm going to be bereaved.

Two down, two to go.

For the first (and undoubtably the last) time of the school year, Jack was up early and ready to go without getting yelled at to get out of bed. When he got home, he said he wasn't sure why he had been excited about school, because it was the same old boring stuff, and how was he ever going to get enough sleep? I think it was a good day, though, because he was pretty chatty and happy when he got home. They put him in the wrong math class and he doesn't want me to say anything because the class he's in is super easy and he wants to "coast" this year. Niiiiiiice.
I loved Henry's teacher, but when Hen walked out of school today, he had the Sad Clown Oil Painting face on. Recess wasn't fun, school wasn't fun, his best friends were in other classes. He rated it a "5" out of 10. After he ate something and played quietly in his room awhile, though, he upgraded it to a "7 or 8" and did say he was sure it was going to be better than last year. Which isn't saying much. But! We're working on a new attitude! With exclamation points! And unicorns and ponies!

Fruits of our Labor Day

My oldest and my youngest. Sand gets in her shoes, you know, and luckily her brother can help her out.
These are Henry's potatoes, which he grew and tended. We had Mark, Jess, Lucy, and Sylvie up for the weekend and served these potatoes, which were quite delicious. Would taste very good with, um, a chicken or two in a pot. I'm just sayin'.
The requisite last trip to the ice cream shop in town (that is, before school starts. We'll probably be there again tomorrow for the "first-trip-of-the-new-school-year ice cream"). See that long hair on my seventh grader? It's gone now. His Dad cut it off. I'll post pics soon.
Flying our Dumb Pteranadon Kite. Which doesn't fly very well. Santa? New kites, please. Except for Grace. She wants a pink I-pod and she will "absolutely die" if she doesn't get one. School starts for the boys tomorrow, and the girls start on Friday. I'm totally not okay with it.