Give Me An "A!!" (for ADD!)

Marty has a new interest in making letters with his body, a la drunken Eagles fans at the Vet. He is pretty good with the Y, T, X, and O, but some of his other positions leave me rather puzzled as to which alphabet he's using. Anyway, I wasn't too surprised the other day when I was sitting on the couch with my legs bent to the side and he said

Marty: Look Mommy, this is an A

Mommy (looking down at the angle of my legs): Yeah, and if I put my arm like this (across the angle)...

Marty: Yep, that's an A ...

I sat for a second and considered trying to come up with another letter to show him when he continued...

Marty: Yeah, and this is a gorilla!! (pounding his chest, jumping around, generally acting like... well, a gorilla) Oooo Oooo! Can I have a banana? Oooo Oooo!

Welcoming Home Daddy

The Welcome Home sign was a project designed to distract the kiddies so that we would not have to spend five days having this conversation:

Kiddie: When's daddy coming home?

Mommy: I'm not sure. He's going to call us when he knows.

Kiddie: When is he going to call us?

Mommy: When he knows when he's coming home.

Kiddie: Well, when is he coming home?

ETC

We bought the paint and the board and the stencils and the lights and the ribbons and got to work on Sunday. I thought maybe they would paint a red, white and blue collage on the board, and then we could stencil the letters over it for an understated yet patriotic tribute. The kiddies thought it would be a better idea to paint the whole board red.

Apparently the bright red board triggered some sort of latent mental deficiency in me. I knew the red wouldn't dry quick enough to roll blue on top of it and I knew that once the kiddies got the blue paint on their rollers they would paint the whole sign blue. So what idiotic plan did I devise? Splattering the blue paint on the sign, and their shoes, and their clothes, and the ground (through the sheet the board was sitting on). In the 4.5 seconds I turned away from the project, Marty produced 3 huge puddles of paint that were not dry even 12 hours later (hence the fan in the picture above).

After 6 hours in the sun with the fan blowing on it, the blue paint was finally dry. That was when I discovered that the stencil letters we bought were just barely going to fit on the board (and that we were going to have to shorten "Daddy" to "Dad" which they never call him - hopefully he'll know who they mean - and we had no room for an exclamation point - what's a welcome home sign without an exclamation point) so I was going to have to do them myself, much to their chagrin.

To distract them from the fact that they didn't get to paint with the white paint (and to avoid any suggestions of other ways white paint could be added to the sign) I let the girls use a tape measure and scissors to cut the ribbons for the bottom. The tape measure is so popular in our house that the kiddies may each be getting one in their stocking, so I was hailed as a hero for suggesting they use it.

Once the ribbons were attached we added the blue lights by staple gun. We bought the blue lights by mistake one Christmas, and we keep packing the box away every year, I guess in case we decided to celebrate Hannukah. Now they have a purpose.

Then we added the star lights by staple and glue gun. I should film the star lights and add the footage to this site because they twinkle in a most festive manner.

Finally, we added The Entropy Three to the picture. While they can be rather persistent and talkative and loud and demanding they are also three little heroes who have held up this year beyond everyone's expectation.

WELCOME HOME DAD(DY!)

Let's Catch Up

November 22:
Marty and I took, Auntie Kate and Grandmom and PopPop to Lauren's kindergarten Thanksgiving lunch. So that the experience wouldn't be too unfamiliar to Marty, a monsoon was arranged so we had to slog through the puddles like we did the week before at lunch. Neither child of mine was willing to eat the fried chicken, but Lauren was delighted by the canned corn and canned green beans. She was brought to tears by the sweetened iced tea (as was I and the rest of our party. Marty's kool aid was less sweet than the tea). We sprung Aislinn and took the whole family home for a delightful afternoon of hiding from the weather.

November 23:
Thanksgiving day was lovely, though frigid and wet.

November 24:
We all headed to Richmond for lunch with some cousins and a trip to the Duck Pin bowling lanes. Unfortunately, the lanes were closed. Fortunately, the weather had miraculously cleared so instead we headed to Maymont Park for a little hiking and animal observing.

November 25:
I chain Auntie Kate to my shed and will not free her until she has cleaned and organized at least half of it. Within 2 hours she has completed a chore that I have spent the past year avoiding.

November 26:
Most notable event: trip to Baskin-Robbins/Dunkin Donuts where Aislinn, Marty, and I had ice cream and Lauren had a pumpkin muffin. After I tasted it I could do nothing but weigh the pros and cons of buying every last pumpkin muffin in the place and stashing them in my freezer. Even now I feel a little bit of panic knowing that the pumpkin muffins are only a temporary addition and soon will be unavailable. Maybe I should go get them...no I shouldn't...maybe I will...no I really can't....

November 27:
The HP calls from Turkey, so we know he is finally on his way home. Because I am so funny, I e-mail everyone with the question: How is the HP like the Pope? My answer was: He's in Turkey. Some of the other answers included,"he likes to put funny looking things on his head and likes to sing in Latin," "I hear he can also celebrate mass in Latin," and "he's lived in Germany ....and would wear a long white robe if it were fashionable (ala Homer Simpson in his muumuu)"

That's it for now. The kiddies and I are working on a secret project, but I can't post it because the HP may be lurking around online somewhere on his layovers or during his out processing in Georgia. Stay-tuned (I'll try to keep up with the posting).

Now I'm a Lutheran

Until Verizon stops trying to kill me slowly by a stress-induced heart condition, I'll be publishing my posts by nailing them to my front door.

Mother Daugher Luncheon

Lauren has been asking, and asking, and asking, in a persistent manner that is hers and hers alone, if I would come and eat lunch with her at school. In theory there is nothing wrong with this request – I like her, I like lunch – but in reality, lunching at the school involves a lot of logistics (getting lunch and then to school on time), heavy–lifting (that would be Marty), and time (Lauren’s lunch starts at 11:25, Aislinn’s ends at 12:45 – you didn’t really think I’d get away without sitting with both did you?). Her requests had reached such a fever pitch that I realized that I was going to have to get there some time this week. Yesterday I wanted to have my free 5 hours to myself (to rake, what a moron I am) so I told her that Marty and I would come today.

What is wrong with me?

Here are a few tips for people who want to go to lunch with their children:

Don’t bring the little brother who would much rather be at home playing circus train and eating powdered donuts than sitting in a noisy cafeteria eating a turkey sandwich.

If you must bring the little brother, make sure it is not raining.

If it is raining and you must bring the little brother, bring a little wine in your water bottle.

Today we had an unannounced and unnamed hurricane. For now I will not contemplate what it did to my raking job of yesterday. Instead, I will only mention the huge lakes and streams it produced in areas that were formerly known as parking lots and sidewalks. Oh, and the wind that shook the car and threatened to yank everything I was carrying (including Marty) and deposit it into one of the new bodies of water.

Marty and I went to Subway for 3 overpriced (and ultimately undereaten) children’s meals to take with us to school. We slogged our way to the office and signed in, and then found Lauren and sat down to eat. I attempted to start some witty conversation, but Lauren immediately interrupted:

Lauren: I don’t like juice boxes

Mommy: Well, why don’t you go get some milk then?

Lauren: Come with me

Mommy: No because then we’ll have to take Marty and he doesn’t like the noise as it is. Try his juice box. Maybe you’ll like it.

Lauren: I don’t like juice boxes. The first grade is leaving, now it’s not as noisy. You can carry Marty and I’ll hold his hand and he’ll be fine.

Mommy: There are a lot of people in line

Lauren: Please, please can we go get milk? Please, Mommy, I really don’t like juice boxes (note to readers: insert your own variation of these phrases and repeat until hoarse)

Mommy: All right, let’s go

Ten agonizing minutes later we were back at the table for lunch. Marty had had enough of the cafeteria and Lauren was ignoring her sandwich to eat the lettuce discarded from Marty’s sandwich. Against my plans for being the nice mommy at school, I had to lower the boom and demand regular eating. Eventually they got into the swing of things and we all had a nice lunch.

After lunch Marty and I went to walk with Lauren back to her classroom (lookee here, another bad idea). Her teacher had to run to her car and asked me if I’d walk the kids back. As soon as the teacher turned her back the little Kindergarten boys started smacking each other in the back and trying to knock each other over. I hate watching other people’s kids. Before we managed to disentangle ourselves from the Kindergarten, the principal came over the PA system to tell everyone who had not eaten lunch yet to go to the cafeteria, get lunch, and then return to their classrooms. So when Marty and I got back to the cafeteria, all of the 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and 5th graders were making their way in too.

Marty loved that.

No, actually he didn’t. I’m no expert, but having half of the school report to the cafeteria at the same time does not seem like an efficient or sensible thing to do. Then again, I’m not a professional administrator. Apparently the logic was that if the power went out due to all the wind, some kids might not get lunch, but if all of the kids were crowded into the cafeteria when the power went out, somehow they would all get lunch.

I’ll try not to drag out this tale any longer. We finally met up with Aislinn and went to her room to sit with her while she ate. All of the girls were saying how cute Marty was, so he immediately began to cry. Once he calmed down and the girls started to ignore him, he launched into a song and dance routine, now oblivious to everyone staring at him.

We slogged back to the car, buckled up, and cranked up the Cars soundtrack. The whole ordeal took a little over 2 hours, but it finished me for the day. Marty got to watch a lot of TV and I sat and read Sunday’s paper.

Next time we’ll … check that. Next time I’ll send Daddy instead.

Happy (Belated) Birthday to Me

Last year my birthday weekend coincided with what we thought was the HPs exit to all things Afghanistan (as it turned out, he was able to come back for a few days and have Thanksgiving with us). My parents and three out of four of my brothers and sisters (four having visited a week or so earlier) came for the big farewell which also included a cake for my birthday. It was one of Aislinn's most memorable and favorite weekends. This year, as my birthday approached, she thought about last year more and more and wanted to throw the same party, with all of the family at our house.

I didn't want to discourage her, but I really didn't think my birthday was going to draw in the visitors this year, and we all needed to go north for haircuts, so I told her in passing that she could call her grandmother and arrange my birthday celebration.

Did she ever.

Not only did she invite everyone, but she decorated the house with streamers and balloons and flowers, and orchestrated (to an excrutiating degree her grandmother might say) present-buying and cake-baking/decorating. Unfortunately, I was too slow on the button to get pictures of everything, but here are some of the decorations:





And some flowers from the HP:



It makes me a little sad (but not surprised) to think that the happiest day she can remember is a year ago. But it makes me a whole lotta mo happy that at seven she can already plan a kick-ass party.

Comic Genius

Mommy: Knock Knock

Marty: Who's there?

Mommy: Boo

Marty: Boo who?

Mommy: Oh, don't cry Marty!

Marty: HAHAHAHAHA! My turn, Knock Knock

Mommy: Who's there?

Marty: Joe

Mommy (I can't imagine where this is going but I guess I must play along): Joe who?

Marty: Joe mommy! HAHAHAHAHAHA! PopPop taught me that!

Finally, Vindicated by the Schools

I know there are many problems your children can cause at mealtime. Some kiddies won't eat their vegetables, some won't eat anything at all, some are ridiculously messy, some are ridiculously gross. My children do not have these problems.

They are unable to sit in their chairs. It's not that they run around during meals, usually they stand right next to their chairs. Sometimes they have one foot on the chair and the other foot on the ground. Either way, I find this situation rather irritating because I don't really consider it an unreasonable request to sit in a chair for the 12 minutes it takes to eat dinner.

On a regular basis I tell them that they would make great pilgrims. Their response is usually a rather eloquent "Huh?" Then I explain that the pilgrim children had to stand at dinner because there weren't enough chairs. Their response is usually a super inquisitive "Can I have some more milk?" (that they have no intention of drinking but that is a nerve plucking to explore in another post).

Aislinn has been in school since she was three, and Lauren since she was three and a half. At no time during these 6-plus years of schooling has any teacher or any book about Thanksgiving mentioned this little bit of pilgrim child trivia. I was beginning to suspect that I had been fed bad information in my childhood. Until today, when Lauren was giving me a rundown on the hardships of the pilgrim children: they had to wear the same clothes every day; they had to do jobs that grown ups do; and (drumroll) they had to stand at the table during dinner.

Although I was hoping to have the newly (all things are relative friends) painted bench all polyurethaned up for Thanksgiving, now I'm thinking maybe I'll have the children stand through dinner. They seem to enjoy it, and it would make the whole thing much more authentic (up until the point where we eat the pumpkin-pecan semifreddo for dessert).

Election Day Picnic

Today the girls left the house at 10:30 to check in with their new best friends down the street. Yesterday, my neighbor and I had talked about taking the kiddies on a picnic today. However, when I woke up this morning after a crappy night's sleep (thank you Marty) and saw that it was rather overcast outside and the forecast was for rain, I thought maybe the picnic would be cancelled.

When oh when will I ever learn?

When Marty and I finally arrived at the neighbors', the picnic preparations were in full swing. Since it wasn't actually raining and since it wasn't cold outside, I decided to trudge back to the house and make three turkey sandwiches, peel the last half a cucumber and last carrot, pull out the last 3 Capri Suns and surrender to the inevitable picnic.

I'm glad that I did. Good things about this picnic?

• The playground where we held it has no swings.
• The playground has a covered picnic area that is within eyeshot but almost out of earshot of the play equipment.
• The picnic started so late that the kiddies were actually hungry and ate their lunches.
• It's been so cold lately that their weren't any bugs.
• The friends we brought with us were so entertaining that the kiddies forgot to check in with me every 90 seconds.

Other things about the picnic?

• Aislinn collected a bunch of Heineken bottle caps from under the tables. She says she is going to make a snowman out of them, but I think that is the sort of snowman only her daddy would truly appreciate (note to self: make sure Heineken bottle caps are not in her book bag).
• Marty actually at a turkey sandwich for the first time in over two months. He has eaten nothing but grilled cheese or mac-n-cheese for lunch since Labor Day.
• Lauren actually wore long sleeves (after an extended argument) and a jacket and kept them on the whole time we were there.
  

Bad things about the picnic?

Although it started to rain when we were rather far from our car, and although
during the rain, Lauren and then Marty (like a pair of lemmings) slipped and fell from the same playground staircase, and although Marty missed his nap (not wise given the aforementioned crappy night's sleep), I'm going to say there were no bad things to report from the picnic.

Election Day Schedule

Some candidates probably find election day to be a long day. Let's see if they can top this:

12:00 - 12:48 - Quiet sleep (at the time, underappreciated)
12:48 - 3:30 - Attempt to quiet a crying Marty, make 5 different trips to his room and finally bring him into my bed
3:30 - 6:45 - Get repeatedly kicked and head butted by Marty
6:45 - Get rousted by girls who on the previous school day had to be rousted by me at 7:30
6:45 - 10:30 - Serve 3 rounds of breakfast, negotiate wardrobe with Lauren, boot girls out of house
10:30-11:15 - Bribe Marty with chocolate milk and internet access to let me take an uninterrupted shower
11:15-11:16 - Stand wistfully staring at bed and weigh repercussions of just lying down and napping
11:16-2:45 - Picnic and attendent activities
2:45 - 3:45 - Run home, grab voter card and grocery list (suspiciously doctored by Aislinn), run to vote (Marty takes a 48 second nap that begins just as we park at the polling place) and hit the commissary (since our house is without any food that one might find in the produce section)
3:45-4:45 - Homework
4:45-6:15 - Baths, dinner, treats, get ready and leave for CCD
6:30-7:30 - Bath for Marty, CCD for girls
7:30 - 8:00 - Pick up girls from CCD, get jammies on, teeth brushed, books read
8:00 - 8:15 - Discussions with Lauren regarding the fine points of the construction of the (6-year-old) "What Makes A Rainbow" story book
8:20 - Freedom and Chardonnay

Why Can't I Watch 8:00 TV Shows?

Exhibit A: I am lying down with Lauren, having read her book, fixed her covers and kissed her good night.

Lauren: Can I ask you one more question?

Mommy: No

Lauren: Please, just one more thing and I promise I’ll go to sleep.

Mommy: What is it?

Lauren: How long is the night?

Mommy: 12 hours

Lauren: How long is the day?

Mommy: (…)

Lauren: Please, just one more thing and I promise I’ll go to sleep

Mommy: (…)

Lauren: Please, just one more thing and I promise I’ll go to sleep

Mommy: (…)

Lauren: PLEASE?

Mommy: This is the last thing. If you say anything else I’m leaving.

Lauren: Okay, I promise. How long is the day?

Mommy: 12 hours

Lauren: What happens if the night is longer than 12 hours?

Mommy: Good night Lauren

After I climb to the top bunk, confiscate Aislinn's books and lie down with her, it starts again.

Lauren: What happens if the night is longer than 12 hours?

Mommy: Go to sleep

Lauren: What happens if the night is longer than 12 hours?

Mommy: Go to sleep

Lauren: Please, just one more thing and I promise I’ll go to sleep

Mommy: What

Lauren: What happens if the night is longer than 12 hours?

Mommy: If the night is longer than the daytime is shorter. Good night.









Lauren: How does the daytime know to be shorter?

Mommy: Pass the Benadryl (or mallet) please.

Weekend Update

This was a weekend to lay low, cancel plans, and annoy my sister Erin. Fortunately, now the buddy boy is feeling much better, not so snotty and much less coughing. The sad and now faceless jack-o-lanterns have been put in the trash (and I cringe to think what the squirrelrats will be eating out there tomorrow morning). They even carried away one of the pumpkin lids. How is that possible?

On Saturday we drove 8 dozen chocolate chip cookies to the school for the bake sale at the fall festival. Marty and I waited in the car while the girls delivered them and then we all went home. 45 degrees is too cold for a fall festival, a winter carnival maybe. We did not go to the zoo to see the new Asia trail. We probably will not get to see it any time soon, because I don't know how the HP will feel about participating in those family sleepovers we've been having in Erin's studio apartment. (Of course next year when Erin is married and living in a house, we'll be such regulars she'll probably rue the day she ever gave us her address.)

Someone is coughing in the back now, and I'm betting its Aislinn, completing the five-day cold trifecta. Fortunately, she loves medicine, so I am not anticipating taking any second hand.

Get Well Soon

When the Buddy Boy is sick, his eyes are even bluer than usual because they are so glassy. His nose runs, and since he is new to wiping his own nose, he wipes it on his sleeve, on the furniture, and most often, on me. Ever since he kicked the chronic ear infections two years ago, he's been so healthy that last night I couldn't even place his cough until I was standing outside his door, because I rarely hear it. He gets a raspy voice, which I think he kind of likes because sometimes he complains that his voice sounds like a girl (he'd like to be a 3 year old James Earl Jones). But the most obvious sign that Marty is sick is the stillness. He sat on my lap reading books this morning, then stood there as I got him dressed, and went off for a nap without complaining. Not a single dance routine or rendition of "Cutting and Being Old." Yesterday he was bouncing on the trampoline and singing, and today he is wiped out (but not unhappy).

Hopefully he's got what Lauren just had, four days of coughing and then a miraculous recovery. I don't like the stillness.

I also don't care for the familiar taste of Robitussin being spit back in my face.

Why I Hate Squirrels

October 31:



Look! How festive! How Halloweeenie! How bright and glowy!

November 1:



Ew.