Bitten

Here's Jack and his friend Dylan, who spent the week with us while the boys attended sailing camp. Now, he doesn't want to go to Spain for his thirteenth birthday, he wants to build a boat.
He got the award at camp for "the kid they couldn't get out of the boat". It was a long, fun, exhausting week, and when it was all over, he hit the treehouse with his book and fell asleep.

Camping

So. The underlings have been whining about camping again. In case you didn't know, I'm somewhat of a delicate flower, and camping is not part of a delicate flower's repertoire. Another problem is that our tent is only big enough for four. So, my idea was, we go to the campground up the road, I'll hang out and make s'mores or whatever, then, once the kids and husband are tucked into their sleeping bags, I'll go home and sleep. Someone has to keep an eye on the livestock, anyway, right? Then, I'll show up in the morning with lattes and a non-stiff neck. Everybody wins!

But, no.

Yesterday, Mitch came home with a new tent the size of my first apartment. Three rooms! With a dog door! We set it up in the backyard to check it out. There was room for my ginormous airbed with plenty of space to walk around, and two side rooms for the kids. The children got all excited and convinced us we should definitely sleep in it that night. So, we set up all the beds and they happily played in there while the adults drank some wine on the patio. Hmmm, camping isn't so bad, I thought to myself. Then, since there was already an electrical cord strung into the tent for my bed, they decided to bring a tv in there and watch a movie. They spent the rest of the evening doing that while I continued to sip my wine inside, in peace. I love camping! As it was getting dark, Mitch gathered up his pillow and headed out with the dog. I decided someone should stay inside to keep their eye Jack and Dylan, who opted out of the family camping experience due to extreme coolness. I woke up 9 hours later with pillow creases on my face and alone in my bed. I slept so well I even brought a tray of hot breakfast sandwiches and coffee to my sleeping campers. I can honestly say that I enjoy camping, and am going to encourage the rest of my family to sleep in the tent for the rest of the summer. Because I'm a giver, and I want them to experience the joys of the great outdoors.

You take the good, you take the bad...

Things that are making me happy today:

• In every room of the house, there is a tiny little tea party set up for stuffed animals, dolls, Barbies, and even action figures. The ingenuity used to make all these tiny tables and chairs and tableclothes! Wait, has anybody seen my box of feminine supplies?......
• While making his bed today (yes, sometimes I make their beds, just so I remember what they look like when they aren't messy), I found all of Henry's favorite sleeping buddies (elephant, Batman, Curious George) tied together with my bathrobe tie so they wouldn't lose each other during the night.
• Jack's friend Dylan is up for the week while they attend sailing camp, and I heard them giggling long into the night.
• Salt and Pepper Kettle Chips

Things that are a tiny bit annoying today:

• After getting five children sunblocked and fed, dressed and lunches packed for the campers, and all the kids piled into the car, Olivia starts crying that she forgot to eat (no worries, though, because we were in my car, and there's always something edible floating around on the floor--oh look! A granola bar! I think.)
• We had to stop at Walmart to get some more Super Soakers because we might inch above 70 degrees today, and Grace had to use the bathroom. Ick.
• I am a bit of a linen whore. Not as bad as shoes, but I likes me some niiice sheets and bedding. I came across a fantastic deal on some 510-thread count cotton sheets from Amazon, and they had great reviews, so I got them. After washing the sweat of underage factory workers off them a few times, I put them on my bed. And every time I rolled over, it felt like I was getting rugburns. You can imagine how lucky Mitch was to have me waking him up so I could complain about the burlap sheets all night.
• Too many Salt and Pepper Kettle chips. Urp.
  

Inevitable

Seamus is a dog of average intelligence. But, he doesn't shed, so that has always kind of made up for his unwillingness to learn. He finally discovered that we have chickens two days ago. Chickens that we've had for four weeks. Of course, because he's a member of this family, he quickly became obsessed with the chickens. When he's outside, he doesn't leave the chicken coop, and when he's inside, he whines to get back outside. Yesterday, I gave the kids Super Soakers to squirt him with when he tried to get into the coop. We all went inside, and Jack decided to go for a bike ride. One of the kids must have let the dog out without my knowledge, because a little while later, Jack came in from his bike ride, carrying the dog, with tears in his eyes and an ashen face.

"Seamus ate a chicken."

"WHAT? How do you know?" I cried.

"Well, he was inside the chicken coop. He'd tunneled under the fence and had one cornered. I counted, and there's only five chickens. He didn't even leave a foot or a beak."

The other children started getting upset, when Henry chimed in, "I bet it was Barbie that he ate!" Barbie is what Grace named her chicken. You can imagine how the scene went downhill from here. I got the younger kids calmed down and settled in front of a movie while I went to talk to Jack, who seemed devastated that his beloved dog had become a killer of an innocent chicken. I was upstairs in Jack's room when I noticed movement out of his window. It was coming from the woods behind the sports court. What the heck was that?











We ran downstairs..........











Ran outside......

Holy omelette! It's Barbie!!!!!!

She looked like she was returning from the desert after a peyote trip, disoriented and walking in circles, but she seemed fine after flying the coop and hiding in the woods for a couple of hours. Mitch's mission for the weekend: build a Seamus-proof yard for our feathered friends.

Greenish thumb

I've gardened more this spring than I have in the past 39 years combined. I even have tendonitis in my wrist to show for it. Everything around the house is looking pretty good, and the vegetable garden is even thriving. I had a fantasy of growing my own organic vegetables and was feeling pretty smug about my carbon footprint (ignore the fact that we have an enormous SUV, we hardly ever use it anymore, anyway). Here's the thing about growing your own food that I hadn't counted on. There is a lot of dirt and creatures involved. And the vegetables have slug holes and unidentified spots on them. In the grocery store, everything is plump and beautiful and clean. Now, logically, I know that taking a bite of a chemically treated piece of lettuce is worse for you then an organically grown one, but, like, there's holes in it, where a slug was slithering accross it. Ew. So, I scrub and cut around the holes and curse this crunchy lifestyle. I've gotten really good at lobbing slugs way out into the woods, though. Just wait until I start complaining about eggs that come out of poopy chicken butts.

Happy F-Day

I've added this picture of Jack in his soccer tournament to illustrate how his busy day began. At 7:30 am on Saturday. When we got home after a day of soccer, we made him mow the lawn without pay, even though "all of his friends get paid at least twenty bucks for mowing their lawns!" He couldn't give me anyone's phone number so I could confirm that, though, so, here he is, mowing the lawn for free.
On Sunday (Happy Father's Day to you Dads out there!), I put the kids to work in the garden. Jack and Henry are only required to care for their designated rows, so it wasn't too traumatic.
The girls kept busy giving the chickens rides in the wagon while Mitch practiced chipping (or something with a golf club).
Here, the chickens are given their final wagon ride to their new home. Cluck cluck cluckity cluck rhymes with....
The day was finished with some kind of charred beast and cherry pie, of course. My man is an amazing father. Even if he lets his 11 year-old drive the tractor when I'm not even allowed to touch it.

Schooooooool's out..... fo'...... summah!

I had my camera on the wrong setting, so you can't tell much from this picture, but the halls of the elementary school are lined with parents, cheering as all the kids exit the building, blowing bubbles, silly string, and blasting music. Then, as the buses pull out, all the teachers are lined up, cheering and waving while the buses and all the cars honk their horns. Today is another one of those days where I love living here (check back tomorrow, though, I'll probably have thought of a reason I don't like it again).

Banana

Henry: "Jack, may you please hand me a banana?"

Jack: "May you please? I don't even know what that means. I'm not handing you a banana until you ask for it properly."

Henry: "Will you please hand me a banana, butthole?"

Field Day...

...was off to a bad start. The pouring rain caused Henry's group to miss 1 1/2 hours of play, then, when it was their turn for the fire hoses, there was an emergency and the firefighters had to leave! Sad, sad, faces. What do you mean, by 'fire hoses', Kate? Every year on field day, the firefighters come and let the kids turn their firehoses on each other, which is about as awesome as you can get. Sometimes, I think it's the only reason we still live here. Anyway, the kids put on their happy-ish faces and got down to business:
A blindfolded spray bottle fight did a pretty good job of soaking them. A bonus is that now I don't need to give him a bath.
Wait.........



What's that sound?









Is it a siren?





It is!!!!!!!!!!!!!!






Woooo Hooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And now they don't need enemas, either.

School zone

I snapped this picture of Henry at school. Only 15 hours left, when you add it all up. Which he makes me do every day when he gets home. His face is pointed toward the window, but he looks a million miles away.

The chicks are getting to be chickens. Please pass the hand sanitizer.

Too exhausted to think of a title for this dumb post.

Oh, hi there! I've been busy and uninspired and exhausted. The boys and I went to Spokane for my brilliant, handsome, and funny nephew's graduation (hi Scott, I hope I didn't embarrass you when I yelled "I LOVE YOU SCOTT!" in the middle of the ceremony). Also, I missed sweet Nora's college graduation from Dartmouth. Meanwhile, Mitch took the girls to his nephew's wedding. In which they wore their clunky Keen's with their pretty dresses (but I'm sure everyone could see that Dad was in charge for the weekend) and they had a wonderful time. This is the last week of school (yay!!!!!) and sports (double yay!!!!).

The chickens are getting their feathers (still gross) and Seamus got into the girls candy stash of tootsie rolls and barfed everywhere, so it's pretty much business as usual around here.

Politics

Jack: "I don't think I'm going to run for anything again."

Me: "Really? Already disillusioned with politics? Why?"

Jack: "I found out I actually have to do stuff."

Conversation from the backseat.

Jack: "I've never seen a real drunk person before."

Henry: "Do we live in the same house?"

(In my defense, Henry thinks I'm "drunk" if I let him watch Jack play a video game with a little fighting in it so I can have some alone time with my husband. And a glass of wine. Whatever. Shut up.)

He won!

When Nana was asking him what he would do if there were kids smaller than him who were getting bullied, he replied, "Take their lunch money. They've gotta pay taxes like everyone else." Yep, he really is all mine. He knows just how to push her buttons.

Also, I asked about the speeches. "Well, one girl's speech was really long and talked about the budget and a bunch of boring stuff, and the other girl's speech was also really long and talked about what qualities made a good president and how she possessed all those qualities."

"What was your speech?"

"I told them that 'if they voted for me, all their wildest dreams would come true.' I think it was about 45 seconds long."

Five

Yesterday
------------------------------------------

Today

*sniff*

Yep, He's mine all right.

Me: I saw so-and-so at the baseball game tonight. Does she still have a crush on you, Jack?

Jack: (groans) Mo-om!

Me: Do any other girls have crushes on you?

Jack: Of course! All the girls and half the boys are in love with me.

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.