The J Train

www.juliealley.com

2012-01-30T14:00:00.007-05:00

Hello Monday! Hello new Julie Alley Photography website.

Today I launch my brand new photography website and just thought I'd put it on the j train for a little additional self-promotion.

This weekend someone asked me how long I've been taking pictures. I had to do the math and it made me feel old to have to say 17 years! I guess one good thing to come with age is experience.

Here is the link. From the website you can go to my blog and facebook page. Thanks for taking the time to look!

www.juliealley.com

Much love,
Julie

Thanks to:
Jimmy (for numerous reasons)
Tara for the logo/pics of me (sorry for stepping on your counter top)
Gary for the beach photo (sorry I didn't ask if I could use it)
Jeremy/Christopher for website help for many years (and for 3X5 cards)
Everyone in every single one of my photos!

I heart Music

2012-01-22T22:11:00.003-05:00

Last night I was driving the van with my two youngest and "Tiny Dancer" (the Ben Folds live version) began to play. The catchy piano melody always evokes emotion. (And reminds me of the scene in Almost Famous.) Anyway, a few lines in I hear a sound behind me and I think I know what it is but I check the rear view mirror to be sure. It is the sound of my baby's hands clapping together. She has a huge smile on her face. No one prompted her to clap or smile or do both at the same time. She's just hanging out in her seat clapping and smiling and feeling good.

I cannot explain how I felt in that moment. The music, the baby, the chubby hands, the 6 toothed smile, the legs bouncing...there are no words. Now this song will forever remind me of my little tiny dancer and her clapping that made me feel good all over.

Music does that. You can close your eyes and hum a melody and you're somewhere else. Of all the things God created music is one of the most amazing. From just a few tones we can make an infinite number of melodies. And they can make you feel things. Even one note played in a certain way can convey a feeling. It is incredible. My cello teacher used to tell me to "make it sing!" And I knew exactly what she meant.

My older kids have been into the Beatles. Tonight the whole family is in the car listening to "Ob La Di Ob La Da" and we're just together. We're in it together. There is no escaping. We're all listening to the same thing. The windows were down, it was loud, it's about a couple of kids running in the yerd-- there is laughing in the song for crying out loud-- it just made me love music all over again.

And then "Julia" comes on and everyone gets really quiet. For the entire song. It's never quiet in the van. It was amazing. They were really just listening.

Then we went to our church Fellowship group and talked about the excellencies of Christ. I'm going to proclaim it. Music! Music is excellent. I am truly grateful for it.

"Every good and perfect gift is from above.." James 1:17

"But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light." 1 Peter 2:9

Happy Year!

2012-01-09T22:17:00.004-05:00

Happy New Year and Happy Birthday Juliet! Not necessarily in that order. Many are confused by the fact that this onesie my sister bought me while I was pregnant was wishful thinking. My due date was December 31, 2010. She was hoping I would not have to carry Juliet beyond my due date and we were all relieved when she popped out at 7:11 p.m. on New Years Eve last year.

So this year New Years Eve was twice the celebration and we could not have brought the new year in any better as we were with friends at a cabin in the mountains of north Georgia. This year I actually stayed up to wince at Dick Clark and kiss my man. Last year Jimmy and I turned out the lights in our hospital room at 11:45 p.m. and went to sleep.

We have been very busy getting back to normal. Today we began school again and I was reminded what home school and normal for me means...Having to call the Dr. because your 4 year old stuck a Q tip too far in her ear and it's been bleeding for 2 days. Having to insert the ear drops. Having your husbands car act weird. Having to deal with mail and papers. Having to do these and many other things simultaneously. We had a successful day and I even took some one year photos of Juliet. (I posted some on my Julie Alley Photography facebook.)

It is definitely bittersweet, the first birthday. My precious angel is getting so big. The end of babyhood forever for me is rearing it's toddler-like head. But to see how much she's grown, how blessed she has been with good health...it is a celebration indeed. Happy Birthday Juliet!

Merry Christmas 2011

2011-12-28T21:39:00.004-05:00

Merry Christmas to all who read the J Train. Hope you had a wonderful Christmas and have a Happy New Year!

Three Black Things

2011-12-14T22:37:00.005-05:00

I'd like to write about three black things in my life today.

1. My bag lady sweater. I'm actually on the third...it seems every two years or so I get a new warm black sweater that I wear constantly in the winter. They begin to look worn and prickly and I wear them long after their life. But it is cold. I cannot remove it. Not even to take a picture of it. And I'm certainly not taking a picture of myself wearing it.

2. Burnt toast. A pan full for the family at dinner. I rarely let this happen. I am still getting used to my radioactive oven. The broiling is even crazier than the baking. Though burnt toast is always a disappointment, it was quite a beautiful black color.

3. This drawing I found when I cleaned out the van today. Done by Libby. Is there anything better than the way you feel when you find a black sharpie? She must have been so excited to find one to use in her sketchbook in the van that she drew this picture. There is nothing more to be said about these wonderful pens and this amazing drawing (by an amazing artist) conveying true love for them.

I love you black sweater. I love you, burnt toast. It's not your fault. I love you, Sharpie. I love you Libby. Thanks for making my day.

Mommy McGyver

2011-12-05T21:37:00.004-05:00

One of my many jobs as a wife, mom, and home manager is to keep track of things around here. I wish I could tell you that I'm one of those people that throws every small loose item away. I'm not. I keep things, knowing that if I throw it away, I will surely need it within 24 hours. It is one of the many points in Murphy's Law of Home Economics.

I am often confiscating things or finding things that are too small and thus a choking hazard. Or maybe it's a small item I don't want to lose. It could be something that seems important but I have no idea what it is. Does anyone else have these items? I have a lot of them. And they do have a home, because though my house does not always appear to be neat or tidy, most of the time I know exactly where everything is. (Except shoes. But that is another post.)

Where is my home for small unclaimed, choke-able, or important (so must be kept away from the children) items?

I'll tell you.

It's the kitchen window sill above my sink.

Why there? Because no one can reach them, of course! And also they seem to go unnoticed there somehow.

Behind my sink is a treasure trove of random thing-a-majigs. Sometimes I can't stand it and I have to clean it off. But most of the time I stare at these things every time I wash my hands and as an artist I feel it is an installation piece representing what's gone on around here since the last time I cleaned it off. Also, I am like a savant, using my sky-high IQ to memorize each and every item so if anyone asks where the chain that came off the fan is, I can retrieve it and thus feel as though I did my job as home manager over and above the call of duty.

As I write, some of the things in my window are: two toenail clippers, two candles, blue hair spray, fake vampire blood, infant Tylenol, a light bulb, disinfecting wipes, a paintbrush, two keys (don't know what they open), some loose change, bobby pins, a comb and hairbrush, soda can pop tops, and a flashlight.

I'm sure MacGyver could power a small town with the items found on my kitchen windowsill on any given day. Or at least make a pretty decent bomb.

Just one more way I can do my job. Because you never know when the power might go out and I will have to pretend to be MacGyver and I'll need some stuff to generate a little electricity. Hey, no food's going to spoil here, I'm collecting some junk in my kitchen window.

The Same Thing Happens Every Night

2011-11-30T00:41:00.002-05:00

In case you haven't read my blog before, I'm a Bill Cosby fan.

Almost every night after dinner I think about his performance in "Bill Cosby as Himself." The part when he talks about the antics of his five children and wife after dinner every night. I used to play the record and listen to it lying on the living room couch. Little did I know I would one day have five kids of my own and go through the nightly routine myself.

Here are some things that happen (almost) every night at my house.

1. Dinner. This includes me asking everyone repeatedly to stop interrupting each other and "please can one person talk at a time!"

2. Someone spills something. You can set your watch by it.

3. Homework. (Not from home school, only the public school kid has to endure it.)

4. Some sort of performance or musical endeavor. Tonight it was freeze dance.

5. The baby crawls around and gets really dirty.

6. Washing. Dishes, people, laundry...it's always at least one of these or all three.

7. Books.

8. Crying. Someone. Every night. If it's not the kids, it's me. On the inside.

9. Me checking to make sure I have ice cream in the freezer for after bedtime. (I actually never have to check. I always know exactly how much I have.)

10. Phone ringing. Usually multiple times.

11. Yelling. I admit it. It happens. Every night.

12. Rocking the baby. Tucking in and bedtime prayers.

13. Someone fools around instead of lying in bed.

14. The clenched teeth threatening. (If no obedience, as Cosby would say, the beatings begin.)

15. Sleep. This does happen every night. I know. I go in there and look at all five of them every night. They sleep. It is like a deep breath. To begin again.

I am thankful that the same thing happens every night. It is the working gears of a family. In the daily routine you build something. But that fleshed out is pretty ugly much of the time.

Thank you Bill, for going before me. For doing the nightly routine and living to joke about it.

"Think I carried you in my body for nine months so you can roll your little eyes at me? I'll roll that little head of yours down on the floor!" -Bill Cosby

Here is a link to the classic bit The Same Thing Happens Every Night.

"Calgon, take me away!"

2011-11-18T13:53:00.004-05:00

A few weeks ago my bathtub was clean. This is not the norm, so I decided to take a bath.

I really enjoyed it. Mostly, the sound of the water slowly dripping from the faucet into the water. There was something soothing about it. But I think the best part about a shower or bath is that unless your house catches fire or someone needs a trip to the ER, whatever the problem is has to wait until you are dry and dressed.

I remembered the Calgon bubble bath commercials from my childhood. The familiar slogan "Calgon, take me away!" that the woman would yell. So I looked up the old commercial on line. It was sort of like that, but not really at all. I do use my time in the shower to escape from it all sometimes, but I don't have my hair bundled at the top of my head 80's style with ringlets cascading down my face. I don't point my toe and slowly lift it out of the bubbles to wash my ankle. I don't have bubbles up to my neck in a bathtub that looks like it belongs in a double wide. I don't "lose myself in luxury" by having soft skin when I get out.

But I understand where they are coming from. Sometimes, when you have so many demands placed on you, being able to close and lock the door in the name of a bath, shower, or even a trip to the toilet is the only escape you have in your day.

Sometimes I have trouble prioritizing. If I have a minute to do something, I look around and feel paralyzed by all there is to do. Do I plan dinner? Do I clean up my room? Do I pick up the 3,468 odds and ends around the house? Do I do laundry? Do I forget it all and rock the baby? Read books? Do I write a blog about the old Calgon commercial?

I think what I'm realizing is that it doesn't matter. It will all get done, then it will all get undone. Then, it will get done again, and then undone. Clothes you wash will be soiled again. Floors you mop will get dirty again. Food you eat will make your toilets dirty and diapers gross. But in the middle of it all you might get to take a bath and come out feeling a little more like you can handle it all. But I don't want to miss much. So Calgon, take me away, but bring me back soon because I have messes to make and clean up. And make again. And clean up. And make again. And clean up...

Eleven Eleven Eleven

2011-11-11T23:21:00.002-05:00

I just wanted to post because it is the date that it is. I don't have something specific to say. I tried to do it at 11:11 p.m. but I missed it. I was tucking my children into bed.

They just keep growing and I can't make it stop.

I wonder. Have I kept enough of their sweet notes to me? Did I put them in my special papers file? I don't want to forget that they once were little and would bring me random papers that said I love you mommy.

I wonder. When will I stop tucking them in?

I wonder. Is it possible to forget their soft hair and how it smells after a bath? Oh, I hope not.

I wonder. Am I doing enough to show them I love them? Oh, I hope so.

I wonder. Will we be good friends when they grow up? Oh, I hope so.

It happens so gradually but so quickly at the same time. I have always loved children. I am so blessed to have my own to love. And I do love them.

On 11/11/11, but also on every day of every year at every time of day. Did you hear that kids? Even when I'm asking you to stop touching me, or talking to me, or bothering me, I'm totally in love with you. You are even better than a cool day like 11/11/11.

Haus and Hook

2011-11-10T10:29:00.006-05:00

I'd like to tell you about two additions to our family.

1) a dog named Haus (German word for house)

2) a pinball machine named Hook

As if I don't have enough going on in my life. As if I need one more thing to feed and toilet and bathe. As if I need one more thing to break. Or remember to turn off. Or take turns with.

But you know what? I can fight it, and be the wife and mother who complains and whines and lists 100 reasons why we don't need a dog or a pinball machine.

Or I can roll with it and learn to photograph two new things. Pets and pinball machines. I've decided to expand my photographic abilities. And it hasn't been half bad. This is my first attempt at capturing a back glass and I didn't spend much time on it but hey, it's something new. You know...families, kids, babies, weddings, pregnant women, animals, real estate, and pinball machines. There are worse things to take pictures of.

Haus came to us by way of my parent's neighbors...who had other dogs and work during the day and thought Haus would benefit from affection and air conditioning. He is big. A breeding stud with all the right equipment. If he were in high school, he'd be the dumb jock. But who doesn't love the dumb jock? Sometimes the center of the football team can do a little more than throw his weight around. He usually has a gentle heart inside.

Hook came to us for Penelope's birthday this past weekend...not as a gift to her, but on loan for her birthday party, which was a letter P theme. My dad has been collecting pinball machines for about a year now. The kids love to play it of course. Hey, it's good for their reflexes. It is based on the movie Hook, a Steven Spielberg film from 1991. I was a mere 9th grader. Enjoying my year at the top of Junior High. Wearing cheerleading uniforms and taking cello lessons. But I digress.

Just wanted to post what was new around here. Haus and Hook. As the machine says, "What would life be like without Captain Hook?" (...and Haus.) Life would be a little less chaotic but I've never been afraid of chaos. Or Captain Hook. We're not going to grow up around here.

Costumes 2011

2011-10-31T21:08:00.006-04:00

It's that time of year again. October 31st is upon us and bringing with it a desire in my children to acquire candy, candy, and candy. I rarely eat candy. I rarely let my kids eat candy. Yet I go to a lot of effort to outfit my children so that they can get some. Something about that doesn't add up.

Yet it does. It's because I love them. And what mother doesn't like dressing up her kids? Although 24 hours ago I had no idea what two of them would be and only a wig for the other, we somehow pulled it together this afternoon.

Thanks to my sister and nephew Jake for the Einstein idea. Jake was Einstein a few years back.

Thanks to the internet for the jellyfish idea. And to Libby for looking really cute as a stinging invertebrate.

And I do not thank you, Weird Al, for your CD ending up at a garage sale and then into my five year old's bedroom, into his night time music play list, and thus into his mind to dress up as you this year. But I have vowed to not squelch their creative sides, so I let him be Weird Al. (After the photos were taken Jimmy made him a name tag that said "Hi my name is Weird Al" to aid him in answering questions.)

And thank you God, for sending a miracle my way and allowing me to capture Penelope smiling naturally. It almost never happens.

Lastly, thank you Juliet, for being on the exterior of my womb this year, for being such a good baby, and for sitting quietly in your high chair while I photographed everyone outside, then smiling at me like this when I came in. I love all of you!

Doing our Thing

2011-10-10T20:46:00.005-04:00

We live a crazy life around here. I always say this, but can I really back it up? Yes, I can.

This morning I arose early enough to get ready, nurse the baby, throw some yogurt at a kid, and get Jackson to the Dr. at 8 a.m. He is now out of his cast and has only a brace. Yes!

On the way home I dropped him at school. Came home, made bread, did school, nursed the baby, made lunch, and mentally prepared to take the entire family on two real estate photo shoots later today. I was going to pack dinner we could eat in the car along with things for the kids to do. It was raining. Jimmy and I discussed postponing the shoots due to the fact that they may look, for lack of a better word, drippy. We did.

Since I didn't have to go on the photo shoots anymore, my day was freed up and I did some art with the kids, didn't rush getting the baby down for a nap, and laid down for a short nap on the couch myself. (After reading to the children which always causes me to feel like I've taken enough sleepy medicine for a three hundred pound man.)

I woke up to Jimmy telling me we had to do the shoots anyway. People trying to sell their house prepare for pictures. They don't want to have to do it again. I totally get this. I wouldn't want to have to prepare twice. So now, we have to leave in 15 minutes.

The baby is asleep. Penelope is wearing a yellow flowered shirt with a plaid skort, but the skort is on backwards so it's shorts in the front and a skirt in the back. She puts on crocs that are three sizes too big. I tell her to find something else. She wears shiny pink cowboy boots. Cash is wearing clothes that are too big for him. Libby has on a dress that is really too short. Jackson is wearing a dirty shirt which I noticed in the doctors office but didn't want to bring him home between the doctor's and school to change. I demand that the boys pee outside and the girls go to the bathrooms. I am in the kitchen. Penelope goes a little way down the hall, then turns around and comes back and announces to me that she went potty. I bust her. She goes. We start to get in the van.

I am loaded down with my camera bag, diaper bag, a bag of tricks for the kids to do in the car, my water mug, and some Dixie cups so that when someone got thirsty I could offer them a drink of water from my mug in a Dixie cup. It is wet in the garage and there are multiple bikes and toys and well, crap on the floor. I trip and fall. I drop everything. I land on Cash's bike. I lay there for a minute. Jimmy, loading real estate signs, helps me up. I look down and say, "I think I broke my toe." I limp inside and finish loading up. I have to drive. Jimmy talks on his phone way too much to drive. Plus, he had to jump out at the office before our first stop. I've hurt my driving foot. But I am not a wimp. I just try to ignore it.

We have no gas. The appointment is in approximately 15 minutes and is approximately 19 miles out of town. Somehow we go the office, get gas, and get there only 8 minutes late. I limp around the property and we do our thing. The house is vacant. The kids get out and run around. I take five minutes to nurse the baby.

Off to the next shoot. It's off the beaten path. Wasn't even on Google maps. It involved over a mile of dirt roads. The kids take off their seat belts and enjoy the ride. We arrive only five minutes late. I limp around the property. We do our thing. The children stay in the car. There is crying a little. We take off and announce the mud bog ride will begin again. The 3 oldest kids are in the back on their knees, facing backwards looking out the back window and screaming with every bump. At some point Cash says, "Hit it, Dad!"

We go to show a house for another realtor. We don't really want the buyers to know there are five children in the van. While feeding the baby her jar of pears, I entertain the children with a story that ends with "There's water coming out my poop hole!" and this does the trick to keep them in their seats and at a low decibel level. We hit a few more dirt roads and head to dinner at Wendy's. We sit at a circular table and despite the craziness, I am in love with my family.

Then we go to Target. Jimmy wanted one thing (a movie- "Hook" from the $5 bin because my dad acquired the Hook pinball machine from 1992 and he wants to do his homework before the next time we visit) and he was just going to run in while I waited in the car (it was past bedtime for the littles) but I wanted to shop for a curtain rod. We all went in. I limped through Target. We did our thing.

We made it home and I nursed the baby and put her to bed and chased everyone else in the same direction. I finally arrived at my bed to elevate my swollen and bluish toe. I decided to relay my crazy day in an extremely long blog. I am going to bed and will start again tomorrow. I will limp around the house and do my thing. And hopefully not write a long blog about it.

10 years, 10 pins

2011-10-02T22:16:00.008-04:00

For Jackson's birthday this year he wanted to go bowling with the family. Libby didn't get to go because she's staying with my parents for a few days. And Jimmy didn't bowl because of a previous bowling injury. (We bowl all the time. We have our own balls and shoes. I have a competition next week.) Here are some pics and stellar commentary from yours truly.

Cash has his game face on. I was trying to teach them how to get psyched up before a round.

Penelope is a bowling prodigy. We didn't even have to stand around and wonder if it would actually make it down to the pins like you would with a normal three year old. I think she got 6 strikes.

Here is Cash showing off his freestyle form...letting go of the ball from the waist. It's a new technique. I'm trying it out myself. It has increased my average score by 3.7 points in the last three months of practice.

Jackson's face after he got a strike. I am so proud. 10 pins for 10 years. I've been secretly hoping he takes an interest in my favorite past time, but that he actually has is a dream come true. I am so glad he broke his left arm and not his right. That could have seriously damaged his shot at the youth title next year.

A group shot. Penelope has moved up to a 10 pound ball. I've been practicing with her in our new yard.

Here are some shoes someone left out. We of course have our own that we bring. I don't know how anyone can expect to decently bowl with shoes like this.

We do have the best cheerleader in the world. I made sure she sucked her left thumb so as not to damage her right thumb for her future career in bowling.

Here is Justin Beiber demonstrating how he follows through when he bowls. They had instructional videos by multiple pop stars that you could watch while you bowl.

Here's the final score. The machine was broken. My score was 292, not 92. I haven't gotten a 92 since I was a toddler. You can't rely on computers. I keep my score in my head anyway.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY JACKSON!!!!

this : this : : that : that

2011-09-29T21:43:00.003-04:00

I used to write songs. When I had less interruptions, more time, and a chance to use my brain to think about things other than laundry, cooking, and home school.

I always wanted to write a song with la-la's. Or doot-doot's. Or dat's. Or la-de-dah's. I thought I'd really have arrived if I knew when to put something like that in and not have it sound stupid. You know, a song like "Piano Man" by Billy Joel. It's not like he couldn't think of good lyrics so he stuck in some la's. He just knew when to sing without trying to say something. To showcase a melody and not worry about lyrics. It really makes the song.

There is an analogy here.

menial tasks : life : : la-la's : song

The la-la's (or doot's or whoa's) in a song aren't communicating any kind of message. This is how I feel about this stage of life. I spend a lot of time on menial tasks like cleaning, wiping various surfaces (and bottoms, noses, and faces), doing laundry, etc. These every day tasks seem meaningless.

I'm talking about the daily grind. The trenches of family life. Not trips to Disney World or family vacations or big birthday parties. The everyday tasks I do all the time. They are catchy. And they get stuck in your head. With them, life is just better.

The best part of these songs are the skat vocals that seem to be filling up space. But it's in this space that I see some of the best moments. When I'm helping someone get dressed or brush their teeth or cutting their food...and they look at me and melt me with their cuteness. I get to take care of them. I am giving them a sense of security and protection. These menial tasks are not meaningless. They fill the space of my life. They make the song.

Songs I listened to while writing this blog:
Piano Man - Billy Joel (la-dee-dah)
Livin' on a Prayer - Bon Jovi (whoa-whoa)
Dreams - the Cranberries (ah...)
Galaxies - Owl City (dat dat)

Inevitabilities

2011-09-12T22:24:00.008-04:00

*Please excuse the poorly oriented photos in this post...they came from Jimmy's phone and getting them off was approximately forty steps and I'm tired and don't need any more steps.

When you're raising kids, there are certain things that simply have a high probability of happening. Some things are just inevitable. Some of these things are good. Cute girls in ballet outfits. Handsome little boys grabbing your face and calling you precious. Funny words when they're learning to talk. Adorable handmade cards you can't bring yourself to throw away.

Some of these "inevitabilites" aren't so desireable. Ear infections. Poop in various places. Tantrums. Yelling. Tears. Separation anxiety. Bleeding. Drooling. Various bodily fluids. Potty training. Vomit. I'd like to continue with this list because it's kind of fun and I like lists. But I have a story to get to.

Our latest inevitability? Broken bones. This past Wednesday Jackson fell off his skateboard in our driveway and broke both bones in his lower left arm. It was pretty cut and dry, really. When your kid's arm looks a little bit like a half cooked noodle, you take them to the emergency room.

Jimmy took Jackson in, and I came later after my friend and then later my neighbor took over with my other kids. When I got there Jimmy was worried about the others and wanted to go home and let them know Jackson was okay. They were fine and already asking if they could sign his cast. So Jimmy stayed a few more minutes before going home and I stayed with Jackson for the duration.

At this point Jackson was in a lot of pain and just trying to keep still. We had to wait for quite a while and they were unable to get an IV in Jackson so he had no fluids and no pain medication. He was saying all kinds of normal things you say when you're in pain and waiting. Everything from "What's taking so long?!" to "They're so MEAN here!" I really felt for him.

Though I did break my own left arm when I was a kid (so did Jimmy actually) I couldn't remember much except that it did hurt pretty bad. But of course my most recent experience with pain is childbirth. But when you're sitting with your nine year old in the ER you can't say, "Buddy, just get the epidural, you don't have to endure this." Instead you push his wheelchair two feet from the television and try to distract him with "Minute to Win It."

To make a long story even longer, we finally got called back and six needle pricks and four nurses later Jackson finally got an IV into his "tiny veins." Ah, morphine. Then it was the orthopedic surgeon who numbed Jackson's arm with a blood pressure cuff and medication. At this point Jackson was much happier and waving his broken arm saying in a drug induced voice, "I can't feel anything!"

I wouldn't let Jackson watch but I did (though it was slightly disturbing) and the surgeon twisted, turned, squeezed, and pulled on Jackson's arm to set the bones. We heard them crack a little. Which, even when it's happening to you, can be funny if you're full of medication and you can't feel it.

Then one more x ray to make sure it worked and it did. Jackson has been doing great and mastered playing video games with one hand the next day. He went back to school today and did great.

As for me...What's harder than taking care of five kids? Taking care of five kids when your "right arm" has broken his left arm. I'm glad to take care of him though. He's a great kid and we're so happy he's on the mend.

School pics and updates

2011-09-02T20:52:00.003-04:00

We started school this week. I feel good to have a week under my belt and to have the ball rolling. Jackson started at public school last week, so he's got two weeks done. His transition has been very smooth. He seems excited about school and his assignments so far. The last two summers, I've done an update on the kids. So here are their "school" pictures and some notes about each...

Penelope
Age: 3 1/2
Current faves: peanut butter spoon, using the computer, yelling at everyone
Last seen: yelling at someone

Penelope started preschool (two days a week) yesterday. She seemed to do fine and when I picked her up I asked her question after question, even though she seemed annoyed. She finally just said, "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!"

Cash
Age: 5
Current faves: rubbing up against me and Juliet, peeking out of his bedroom door (he can do this while still technically staying in bed), eating and drinking
Last seen: hiding inside the ottoman and knocking--the first time he did it made me go to the door twice to see who was here

Cash has begun home school and is doing great because he is a very hard worker. He has learned to ride without training wheels since we moved and gets around our neighbor's pool like a fish.

Libby
Age: 7
Current faves: writing and drawing, bike riding, taking care of Juliet
Last seen: carrying Juliet around

Libby continues to amaze us with her bright and creative mind. She is a tremendous leader and helper to her younger siblings. She is a lot like me and I love to have someone on my side around here. She recently got her first loose tooth.

Jackson
Age: 9 1/2
Current faves: music, riding the bus, playing with our neighbor, asking me questions
Last seen: getting me to sign school papers (all of a sudden my autograph is in high demand)

Jackson is a great kid and we're proud of his transition to school. He embodies the phrase "inquiring minds want to know" and I'm sure would read the National Enquirer if we let him. He still loves reading and answering the phone. I miss him as my personal assistant during the day.

Some outtakes:

This is definitely going in her wedding slide show one day.

This was one of many "dude" poses he gave me.

I didn't put Juliet in here since she's not a student yet and doesn't have a school picture. Currently, she's being cute, looking cute, acting cute, and getting kissed by someone approximately every five minutes. We love each other around here. I feel very blessed. I can't believe another year has gone by. I've thought multiple times this summer that if I could freeze the ages of my kids, I think I'd do it now. But the J train continues to clamber down the track, stopping for no one. If you see us passing by, the steam from the train is coming out of my ears.

Duck for Fat Albert

2011-08-26T08:23:00.008-04:00

I shouldn't be writing. I should be accomplishing something. But today is the last day of summer for me...I start home school on Monday. So while my husband is in the next room watching Fat Albert with the kids, I'm going to do this.

This is my new oven. My new, forty plus year old oven. It is in my new house. My new, forty plus year old house. This house feels very much like home to me, since it was built in the same decade as the house I grew up in.

And this oven is the very model my mom used to cook with when she first moved into my childhood home.

Now let me tell you a little bit about me and cooking. I like to cook. I think. I can't quite remember what it's like to cook for normal people. People who are not children. And my kids aren't even picky. But they do have the normal restrictions most children would have...nothing that's too mixed up together, nothing extremely spicy, nothing that looks weird.

Not to mention the fact that cooking takes some level of concentration. Whether you're trying to follow a recipe or sort of making it up as you go along, you need to be in the groove. Be devoting your mind to the task.

Now I don't have to tell you how hard it is to do this when you have the chaos around you that I'm dealing with here. I find myself interrupted by everything from scraped knees that need bandaged to "MOM! CAN YOU WIPE ME?" to phone calls to random messes that need attention. How am I expected to cook with all this going on?

This is why pretty much everything I make lately is just okay. Edible, but not excellent. I hate it. I want my kids to remember their mom being an awesome cook. Instead, they beg me for Mac n Cheese.

I'm hoping the G.E. wall oven will turn things around for me. I love this oven.

It gets hot quickly. It doesn't make the kitchen terribly hot. It is vintage and thus stylistically cool. It must have cooked amazing things over the years. It's the same type of oven my mom made our Thanksgiving dinners in. (Until they remodeled the kitchen in the late 80's.) It is mysterious, since it has no window in the door.

And you know what else I like about it? It tells me what temperature to cook things at. Because you know me, always roasting duck. Or lamb. Or veal. I'll have to use the trusty internet to find out how long to cook these things, but at least I have the temp.

So here's to my wall oven from the '60's. May it be my culinary good luck charm. May I look like June Cleaver or Donna Reed with a small waist and fancy apron as I use it, saying to my husband "Hi Dear" and giving him a generous yet conservative peck on the cheek as I pull a double crusted pie out of the oven. May it take my "okay" meals that I put into it and magically change them into savory dishes worthy of a cool vintage wall oven.

Fat Albert's over. Thus, so is my blog. Hey Hey Hey, Julie's cooking up a feast today. Maybe even Fat Albert will love my cooking.

Baby Mine

2011-08-21T00:12:00.004-04:00

Baby mine, don't you cry
Baby mine, dry your eyes
Rest your head close to my heart
Never to part, baby of mine

From your head to your toes
You're not much, goodness knows
But you're so precious to me
Cute as can be, baby of mine

Little one when you play
Don't you mind what you say
Let those eyes sparkle and shine
Never a tear, baby of mine

If they knew sweet little you
They'd end up loving you too
All those same people who scold you
What they'd give just for
The right to hold you

Baby mine, don't you cry
Baby mine, dry your eyes
Rest your head close to my heart
Never to part, baby of mine

I've been singing the song Baby Mine* to Juliet lately...I haven't been able to remember all the words so I listened to it tonight and looked it up. I know it by Allison Krauss but it was originally in the Dumbo soundtrack and nominated for an Academy Award for Best Original Song that year (1941).

...been meaning to write/post about Juliet for a few months now but life has gotten in the way. She is extremely good natured and nothing but a blessing every single day. She loves to rock and listen to my singing with her ear to my chest. As long as I'll keep singing she'll stay that way, sucking her thumb and warming me in every way. It doesn't even matter to me that on the other side of the locked nursery door there is another child (who used to be good natured and a blessing every day...just kidding...sorta...) pounding on the door and calling my name. I just keep rocking and singing to Juliet and we soak up the moment for a little longer.

Sweet baby Juliet...rest your head close to my heart...never to part...baby of mine. I love you!

* Music: Frank Churchill • Lyrics: Ned Washington

Life without Internet

2011-08-10T21:14:00.002-04:00

Hello blog! We have been without phone and internet for about two and a half weeks...due to the move and other obstacles. I didn't really notice it much for the first five or six days. Then, I sort of wanted to look some things up and check mail and watch Netflix. But we have survived and broke the internet fast and I'm watching Father of the Bride on Netflix while writing this blog. Why don't they make movies like this anymore? ("Welcome to the 90's Mr. Bahnks.")

I was still writing blogs though. In my head. Here is a list of everything I would have blogged about if I'd had an internet connection. And time. We've been pretty busy working on moving out and moving in.

1. I would have blogged about how much dirt and dust was unearthed when we moved the furniture. I could have stuffed a small pillow with all the dust balls.

2. I would have blogged about finding an uncountable number of dried boogers on the walls when cleaning the bunk room in our old house.

3. I would have blogged about my kids watching Annie for the first time and Cash saying to me, "Mom, I gotta go baf-room" and somebody answering "When you gotta go, you gotta go!"

4. I would have blogged about Penelope's current cute words like "prastic" (practice) and "berember" (remember) and me catching her saying "Boys go to Jupiter to get more stupider." (I said, "We don't say stupid," and she said, "I didn't say stupid, I said stupider!")

5. I would have blogged about life without internet. How you feel a little "stupider" than the rest of the world because you don't have a wealth of information at your fingertips. When I was growing up, we went to the set of encyclopedias and dictionary. We used cookbooks. Now, I can google "what to cook if you only have a can of chicken soup a sweet potato and some grapes" or answer questions from the children about presidents or bugs or Bill Cosby with the click of my mouse.

6. I would have blogged about how hot it is. How I want to take a shower every five minutes. How my kids have enjoyed riding their bikes in our new driveway and playing outside but they come in looking like the orphans from Annie and smelling like kid sweat and the outdoors.

7. I would have blogged about how the stuff from my old house fit in there like a puzzle. There was only one place each piece of furniture could fit. And now, I keep moving things around trying to figure out the puzzle of this house. And how can we move from a house with no garage to a house with a two car garage and have it full of junk? How I'd like to throw it all away sometimes instead of find a place for everything. And about how hard it is to get to all this organizing when you have five children!

8. Lastly, I would have blogged about how cute my baby is and how she's growing up so quickly and how I can barely get time with her because everyone loves her so much and kisses her constantly. She is a precious gift.

The kids have done great with the move and though it has been crazy we have been brought closer as a family (much of that is due to life without internet too) and I am grateful for our new house and neighborhood. We love it here. We have great neighbors all around. I am trying to hide the crazy madness that is my life. I don't want to bring the neighborhood down with my semi-white trash family. Don't worry mom. We have stopped throwing our dirty dishes in the yard.

Goodbye Sunset Lane

2011-07-16T16:48:00.021-04:00

I can't believe I have missed the entire month of June and most of July! But I have a good excuse. We are moving to a new house. Well, new to us, but over fifty years old. I love old houses though, just like the one we currently have. We have done a lot of work to our current house, and I've wanted to make a collection of "before and after" photos. The reason I've never done it is because I don't feel like I have finished our house here. But guess what? It's too late. I'm walking away. It is what it is.

Today I took pictures of our current house to use on a "for rent" advertisement. We are hoping to get it rented as soon as possible. I decluttered, defurnitured, dekidded, and got a little depressed. I love our house. I hate to say goodbye. But our new house is bigger. And it has more space. And it's bigger.

And it has more space.

Here are some pictures to try and show the before and after. And I want to make sure I say thank you to everyone who has helped us make Sunset Lane look this good. Some of you will see yourselves later in the renovation pics.

These first three pictures I took to show a friend our new house back in 2005. I had painted the kitchen purple. Not my best color choice, but not too terrible.

Before:
This is the best I can do of the kitchen "before" because my husband took a sledge hammer to the wall before I could get my head and find my camera.

After:
The living and dining rooms were floor to ceiling real pine paneling. Not attractive, but I appreciate real wood. So it took me until 2008 to take the step of dealing with it. And I wanted the kitchen open to everything. I needed to be able to see Penelope in the high chair while I was cooking. So we took it out, knowing my dad would rescue us of course. And he did. Of course. The before pictures are from Libby's first and fourth birthdays. We began right after her fourth birthday, in June of 2008.

Before:

My mom is holding Libby in the above picture.

After:

So after we took out the walls into the kitchen we lived with only the dining room done with the paneling in the new way. For like a year. Then we tackled the living room in the same way.

Before:

After:

The bathroom looked like this when we moved in. We painted, updated the fixtures, and took out the tiny medicine cabinet. My dad built me a cool shelf. I couldn't have done any of my home renovations without my dad. Thank you Slim Jim!

Before:

After:

We did other work in the house. Like adding a wall and making a great room into two. But I don't have pictures at the ready about that. But that was pretty darn cool too. Here are some pictures from all the work. We have worked on this house. I love this house. I had three babies while living here. I walked around the circle with heartburn that could make me breathe fire. I labored in the shower. I have nursed approximately 5,376 times all over this house. I have cooked terrible and wonderful things here. I have yelled. A lot. I have cried. Walked the hill around the block numerous times. Sometimes pushing three kids. I love it here.

But our new house is bigger. And it has more space.

And it's bigger.

So here are some pics from all the work. I am willing to work. Work is good.

Brian Janek. Always willing to destroy your house at no charge.

Can you see Andrea's face in this? It says "What are these crazy people doing?"

I guess we took out the wall and then lived with exposed wires from the ceiling and patched up countertops through the next Christmas. It's all kind of a blur. We were under construction a lot.Then came cutting the paneling one third of the way down and drywalling where it used to be.

Slim Jim made and laid the beam. It is now my favorite part of the house. I like to look at it just as much as I like to look at the television. Can I say thank you to my dad again?

Yes, here are the exposed wires. So safe.

Andrea may have thought we were crazy but she came to help turn the crazy into something cool.

Here is my friend Sandra helping with the million and one coats of primer and paint it took to cover the pine. See my patch of blue where she is working? I was trying it out. I labored over the paint color choice.

Here I am, committing to the blue. It was such a payoff after working so hard on the white. I picked well. I still love it.

Here is my awesome husband Jimmy who is always up for a home improvement project. At first he wasn't sure about my vision, but he totally trusted me and after the dining area was done, he pushed me to move into the living room. He was very encouraging.

Are you wondering what in the world my four children were doing during this whole process? Me too. We were crazy. They were running around and getting yelled at, basically.

I guess I'm at the end. But the end of the work on this house is only the beginning of the work on the next. It's already begun. I am thankful for an able body and family and friends who help us with all our crazy ideas. I hope you think they've paid off as I do!

I love you Sunset Lane!

Life Sucking Goldilocks

2011-05-30T23:08:00.004-04:00

Tonight we took a family trip to the home improvement store. Myself, Jimmy, and our five offspring. There was purchasing of paint, the use of the public restroom, people taking off their shoes, and the regular behavioral issues involved with shopping carts and merchandise you don't want to have to purchase. I never thought we'd make it back to the terribly hot van. It was, in three very sarcastic words, lots of fun.

As we were navigating our way to the checkout, Jimmy turned to me and said, "Do you sometimes feel like the kids suck the life out of you?" He wasn't angry. Just contemplative. And, thinking of my breastfeeding infant, I understood (dare I say more than him) what he was saying. And then I thought of pregnancy. Even more life sucking going on. In the car he referenced Indiana Jones. And what happened when that guy looked at the Ark of the Covenant. As if the children cause our true selves to completely melt off our skeleton. And while the kids add numerous blessings and complete bliss to our life, it can still feel like that at times.

This afternoon Libby brought me a story she and Cash had worked on together. It was called "Goldilocks and the seven Alley's." It involves the Alley's going off to Publix and a girl named Goldilocks coming to their house while they are gone. I will quote from page four:

"Then, inside, Goldilocks saw sandwiches. They looked very yummy. And there was milk from mom's breasts." (drawing of a bottle)

She then proceeds to eat four peanut and butter jelly sandwiches which are "too yucky." Then, she tries two ham and cheese which are "too gross." Then, a picture of Goldilocks drinking from the bottle... "'this milk is just right...' Goldilocks said not knowing that she was drinking from mom's breasts."

The Alleys' come home and are happy to see Goldilocks, and ask her to join them to eat. But "Goldilocks ran away as fast as she could feeling very, very, very sick."

And the last page says...

"When Goldilocks was gone for good, all of the Alley's, EVEN JULIET, was scratching their head."

After family outings Jimmy and I may feel like we've been sucked dry. Meanwhile, our kids are so full of life and creativity it makes us scratch our heads in wonder for real.

A Beginning for the Bennages

2011-05-28T13:42:00.008-04:00

Today some of our very good friends moved from one corner of America to the other. The Bennages have relocated to Redmond, Washington. The J Train among others in Tallahassee have been sad to see them go, but are excited for this new venture for them.

We have known Christopher and Sandra for over 15 years and count them as family. Our kids love each other and even tend to argue like siblings at times. Christopher played bass in our college band, the flying j's. Sandra and I are most definitely kindred spirits. (And I am posting this partly because she is among the handful of people who read this blog!)

Here are some pictures from the last few weeks trying to party and hang out with them before they left. In junior high when someone would move away we'd all get in a big hug circle and cry to "Friends are Friends Forever." It wasn't quite like that, but it was the adult version. We love you and will miss you!

"Cast your bread upon the waters, for after many days you will find it again"
Ecclesiastes 11:1

The Middles

2011-05-18T13:52:00.005-04:00

If play is a child's work, these kids need a raise. Or maybe time and a half. Heck, they should be CEO of the whole company. At least they deserve a promotion. If play is a child's work, these kids live at the office.

I used to refer to Cash and Libby as "The Preschoolers." But when Libby hit kindergarten, that no longer applied. So I started calling them "The Middles" because they were (duh) the middle children, and because they play and pretend together constantly. They need to be grouped together. When I was pregnant with Juliet, Penelope began anticipating her transition to becoming a "middle." She has joined in without the smallest bit of difficulty.

Since Cash is truly in the very middle, we call him King of the Middles. Libby is the queen, and Penelope is the princess. I love these three. They are together all the time. I cannot make it clear enough how often I would easily be able to catch them in the same frame with my camera. They are as close as siblings can be. They really love each other.

And then there are the fights.

Because of their close proximity in age and physical space, they are really good at fighting. They scream and yell at each other. They push each other. They snatch things from each other. They wrestle. They spew ugly words when they have been wronged. And I get to deal with it day in and day out.

I am often getting up at 6 something in the morning because already they are fighting when they're supposed to be lying in bed quietly until 7:00.

The middles are often playing "family" which involves Penelope whining like a baby (fingernails on a chalkboard) and calling Libby "mommy."

Other middles activities include, but are not limited to:

swinging

taking baths
playing outside with bugs

playing games or doing puzzles
drawing
playing school

generally causing a racket

reading
taking care of Juliet
(sometimes reading and taking care of Juliet at the same time)

fighting with each other (just making sure I got that point across)
pretending with toys

dressing up
eating constantly

being cute while doing all of the above

I love the middles. As anyone who you adore, they make me crazy and fill me with joy and wonder every day of the week. And they are loud. Luckily I can get a bit of a break when I put them to bed every night. Yeah, so they can hang like sloths from their bunks and generally ransack the room with stuffed toys while they disobey, get out of their beds, and have a dance party. I don't want to know. After bedtime what happens in the bunk room stays in the bunk room. And I stay on the couch at least long enough to eat a snack. And if it gets really bad, Jimmy and I look at each other and say, "Let the beatings begin!"

Because every middle child needs a beating every once in a while. (I'm the baby of the family. Jimmy is a middle.)

Tooth Trauma

2011-05-10T11:12:00.009-04:00

Last week was absolutely crazy. Things around here are always pretty wacky, but last week topped the charts. As my dad once said when we were packing up to leave his house after a visit, "This is like herding cats!" And that's how it is around here. Trying to make order out of chaos. And chaos always wins.

Anyways. A week ago today Penelope was running in a church fellowship hall where Libby takes ballet and she fell on her face. She busted her lip. Normal kid injury around here. As I was trying to stop the bleeding and assess the damage another mom said, "Her tooth is on the ground over there." And it was. The whole thing. All the way to the root. I couldn't look.

My poor sweet angel. I felt so bad. Of course this happened at 3:45 p.m. right before we were leaving, and I had an infant at home waiting to nurse at 4:00. I knew dentists stop answering their phones at the end of the day...all of this made for a stressful trip home. But I made it (after driving like a maniac) and spoke to a pediatric dentist at the eleventh hour (4:45 p.m.). There was nothing to do right away, just take care of her best I could. We went to the dentist the next day.

She slept with me in my bed that night and only cried out a few times. I awoke to her looking like this...
This look says, "Mom, why are you taking my picture instead of getting my breakfast?"

I thought she looked like she belonged on the Simpsons. Jimmy was calling her Angelina Jolie. So then of course we moved to Octo-mom.

This is how it looked on the inside. I've made it really tiny so you can't zoom in on the disgustingness of it all. Okay, I thought I made it small. Just don't click on it.

And here is the tooth.
I will not be like TPW and comment about my cuticles. But they are terrible. I am aware.

She is so little she didn't even ask about the tooth fairy. Being a photographer I immediately (as she was bleeding all over me) thought, "I wonder what the last picture I took of her with all her teeth was..." and then there I was photographing her tooth. It is very surreal. When a piece of your child is lying behind them on the floor, it's just weird.

I know what everyone is saying. It's just a baby tooth. She has another one. But when your fat lipped three year old sweetheart is asking you "When am I going to get a new tooth mom?" you don't want to have to say, "In about four years!" But kids are resilient. She is fine already. Here is a picture I took just a few minutes ago.Her lip is still a little swollen but obviously much better. She has breakfast on her face. This is life.
And showing the gap. She is still cute toothless. As if I ever doubted that. You are one tough cookie, Penelope!

The Bathroom Gecko

2011-04-22T23:52:00.003-04:00

We have had a gecko living in our bathroom for over a year. I see him every once in a while, scurrying away as I move the stool or get a towel from the closet. He is like our family mascot or something. Why? He must be a fan of ours. Who else would stick around? And even more, who would want to live in a bathroom shared by 7 people, about half of which cannot bathe themselves?

And another thing I think about our gecko friend. What must he eat to survive? I keep thinking he'll starve but still he appears now and again. There is a lot of stuff in the bathroom. A lot happens in there. But there is absolutely nothing edible in there. Does he drink drops of water from the floor? Eat flecks of poop? Strawberry toothpaste for dessert maybe? One has to wonder.

After I saw him tonight I began compiling a list in my head of things he overhears in the bathroom.

"I went poo-poo!"
"Mom!............Mom!...........Can somebody wipe me?"
"I need privacy!"
"I told you not to follow me in here!"
"I'm taking a shower, I'll be out in a minute."
"I need toilet paper!"
"It says to wait three to five minutes." (that's a joke)
"Middles in the tub!"
"I get the front!"
"Okay, stand up, it's time to wash your bodies."
"You're getting me wet!"
"Do washing machine!" (a washing game we play)
"Do you're my baby boy (or girl)!" (a post bathtime song we sing)
"Wash your hands!"
"Wash your face!"
"Brush your teeth!"
"Hurry up!"
"What are you doing in here?"
"Mom, don't put that wipe in the toilet or you'll have to call the plumber again."

Nakey Baby

2011-04-21T11:06:00.005-04:00

It is hard for me to capture my babies smiling and be behind the camera at the same time. I figured I could get a bunch of Juliet if I tried when she was naked because she loves being naked. She flaps her arms and does her legs like she's on a bicycle. So here she is in all her glory, cuteness, and squishy baby-ness. What am I going to do when I don't have a cute little baby to put on my blog? It's going to be sad! But I am enjoying the now if it all. Here's to precious baby smiles!

Monsterisms

2011-04-19T23:21:00.002-04:00

A couple of things...

Today I realized there is a monster living in my house. It has three heads, seven arms, and poopy drawers. It's name is Laundry. This monster is never defeated. I try to slay him with my determination, organization, and soap. But still I am overtaken by his sheer force. He is darks, lights, whites, towels, sheets...socks that hide under the couch. He fills up my baskets and overflows onto the floor. He is a growing mound of dirty underwear, sweaty t-shirts, poopy baby sleepers. No matter what I do, he is winning all the time. And just when I think I've got him by the throat, I head to bed to find a mound to be folded that I forgot I put back there earlier in the day. Even clean the monster rears it's ugly head.

Time is passing and my children are growing up. I try to make it go just a bit slower but a day is a day and a minute is a minute and time is passing at the same rate it's always been. This is an "ism" I've been telling myself when I think things are going by too fast. I tell myself that time has always gone at the exact same pace. There's nothing I can do to slow it down. It just seems like it's speeding by. It's not.

My mom also gave me a good "ism" a few days ago. She said, "It's not so much what you've got as what you do with what you've got." This has encouraged me in quite a few ways.

And I'll end with this quote I came across...it speaks of the wonderful mess that raising a family is. I'm so glad we're together.

"The web of our life is of a mingled yarn; good and ill together." -William Shakespeare

Now Hiring

2011-04-08T21:26:00.003-04:00

Personal Assistant

Seeking intelligent, effective, and agreeable individual to help with personal needs, household needs, and business needs. Hard working individuals not afraid to get dirty or raise their voice need only apply. Not looking for people who are above performing any simple task such as bottom wiping, nose blowing, or toilet scouring.

Other skills, duties, and traits I am seeking in applicants:

-able to do laundry
-in shape, able to lift 40+ pounds
-washing dishes
-grading papers
-singing songs, knows at least 50 children's tunes
-library skills/book reading
-excellent communication skills
-chauffeur
-data entry/sorter
-organized
-tickle monster
-standard phone etiquette
-extremely patient
-personal chef
-tech support
-photography assistant
-changing diapers
-party planner
-good listener
-able to tune out crying
-occasional wet nurse
-100% available all hours, all days, with ability to travel on short notice

This is an excellent full time, long term position and a great opportunity for someone who thinks they want to have a bunch of children.

Salary: you can keep whatever you sweep up in the dust pan or find in the washing machine.

Waldo Flea Market-Part Three

2011-03-31T18:53:00.005-04:00

Are you getting tired of the Flea Market yet? I am, but I'm going to finish what I started. Only one more post and we'll complete our tour.

An array of belt buckles. Worthy of a locked glass case? Not in my opinion, but I'm not making any judgements here.

The banner says, "Mr. Bill's Cheep Thrills...BLING FOR A BUCK...and electronics for a little more!" I want to know the difference between "cheep" thrills and "cheap" thrills.

I don't want to judge or make fun of these people, but please tell me who would want a rebel flag with a dog in the middle of it flying outside their house? The flag on the right says, "Rebel Pride."

Now we are in a section that is a huge metal building with more stuff made in China. This is three or four times the size of the other parts I'd already been through and showed you. I thought I had seen all the good stuff from our friends in Asia but there was more. Here is a cool 80's net glove.

And more fake Sharpies! Only this time, I couldn't even decipher their slightly different spelling...here, I'll zoom in...

Is it Shaurie? Or Shonrie? Whatever the language, they still make me drool.

I found it interesting that the Chinese are making U.S.A. #1 key chains. And even more interesting that they are all covered in a thick layer of dust.

This is one of my favorites. Super Glue, Super Glue, Super Glue, and Special Glue. All exactly the same, except for the name. Which would you choose? I would have a hard time deciding. Super and Special are both excellent adjectives.

And as I was leaving this area, I saw these next to each other and thought it funny. Then I realized they'd both be good wedding presents, so maybe this is the wedding gift section?

And in it's own tent, "Redneck Country!" I didn't go inside. I just didn't want to.

There was this one lady there who had her booth tables full of scissors in these neat black boxes. I LOVE SCISSORS! I talked to her. She was nice. She said a PhD student from U of Florida had written a paper about her and hung out with her in her booth for three different Saturdays. Pretty cool. If I could have a collection at the Flea Market, I'd be proud to sell scissors.

Would you like a concrete giraffe for your yard? Pretty cool sculpture.

And I took this on the way out. So you'll recognize it if you're ever on highway 301 and you want to stop through.

In closing I just want to say that I am not judging these folks who sell, buy, and hang out at the flea market. They are, many of them, hardworking people trying to make money to feed their families. I appreciate that. It is still fun to people watch and giggle at the funny signs and wares you see when you go there. I bought quite a few things that I couldn't buy anywhere else but there. And that makes it a special place. But in truth, it's a special place that I only need to go to every two years or so. Everyone needs some cheep thrills once in a while.

Waldo Flea Market-Part Two

2011-03-30T18:10:00.006-04:00

There were quite a few other interesting things in the "Made in China" section as I'll call it. I spent a good number of minutes photographing the Sharpie wanna-be's and began to notice I was hearing a constant drone that sounded like a toy. I thought it was a gun of some sort. I had seen some earlier. Little machine guns that make an artillery type sound when you pull the trigger. It sounded as if one of them had gotten stuck in the on position somehow. I followed the noise, only to discover that the gun sound was not a gun but this...

The noise was supposed to sound like waves on a beach, I guess. Not quite the paradise I think I'm ready for...a light up picture that sounds like an annoying gun toy.

Couldn't resist the juxtaposition of an electric Jesus next to a dog collar. Because earlier at the flea market I saw the sign "Dog spelled backwards is God" in one of the puppy booths. What I didn't see until later was what's in the top right corner of this photo. Here, I'll zoom in...

It's Art! To suit both refined and popular tastes, no less! An apple clock is definitely on my list of both refined and popular art!

Or, if you prefer fake pets, here's a couple of birds.

Some hats...just one of the many exploits of the rebel flag seen at the flea market. I like "Choppers till you die"...since people with a death wish ride motorcycles.

This is in a different "Made in China" section. There were a couple. A huge bin of fake crocs. And I turned to my right, without moving my feet, and shot the next bin over...

A huge bin of bras, four to a pack. I thought they looked very similar to the crocs...colorful and cheap. I don't know if you can tell what they are...I had to use my flash because it was very dim in this section. This probably tips sales in their favor. If you can't see it very well, you might go ahead and buy it. Then, wonder what the heck you were thinking when you get it out in daylight.

We are now entering the animal section of the flea market. You want chickens? There are dozens.

This looks like a bird for a magician. I know it's a terrible picture, but he was moving around a lot.

I shot this from my waist without looking through the viewfinder because I was being watched and didn't want to get in trouble. Maybe the pig has an agent or something and I need to get permission...

This is where I saw the "Dog spelled backwards is God" sign earlier in the morning before I came back with my camera. Maybe they had sold their holiest dog and didn't want to false advertise.

I'm not a member of PETA or anything, but I hated seeing these guys all scrunched together in here.

A baby pool full of rabbits. When we were there in the morning, Penelope kept smacking this one rabbit on the back and he'd hop away. She thought that was so funny so she kept doing it until I pulled her away. PETA...Penelope Exercises The Animals?

Waldo Flea Market-Part One

2011-03-29T22:31:00.005-04:00

This past Saturday Jimmy and I went to the Flea Market in Waldo, FL. My parents live just south of Waldo and we were visiting and needed to get out of the house for a bit. My mom buys produce there from local farmers so she gave us some money and her list. We took our three middle kids. I was amazed by what we saw. So much so that I went back later with Jimmy and Jackson and brought my camera. How much fun it was to feel young again, looking at things through my camera and not through the eyes of a mom who is worried her kids are going to touch chicken poop (or anything else there for that matter) and then put their hands in their mouth.

I have looked at pictures of funny signs from foreign countries. I have lived in the south my whole life. But I never knew that all in one place I could see funny grammatical errors and spellings and rebel flags and cute puppies and, well, lots of junk. If you don't believe the south will rise again, just go to the Waldo Flea Market. It is a step into a different culture.

I took a ton of pictures. I am going to show them in the exact order in which they were taken. This is what we saw when we walked in one of the side entrances.
It's nice to have you back, but enter at your own risk...

Maybe you need a concrete sculpture of a caroler dressed warmly for the yard outside your trailer in the summer heat of Florida...?

They have a huge hardware store...my dad has bought plenty of parts/hardware, etc. from them. But I found this sign funny since there are like blades everywhere you look. Jackson of course did the kid thing and tried on sunglasses. You know you can never resist trying on glasses.

The sign says, "We have straw hats and others inside...essential oils & roll on perfume." Roll on perfume? Sign me up!!

You could buy boiled peanuts from "The 3 Flamingoes." As you can see, they have salted, valencia, cajun, bar-b-q, and garlick with a "k". Yummy!

I appreciate this...they want to help people stick to their budget I think. I like the glitter tape around the edges.

I've actually never heard this one. I didn't pick anything up. I didn't want to have to buy a oil and vinegar dispenser or porcelain soap pump.

Now I know where to go if I need to buy a stun gun. Seriously. I might need one some day.

Sunglasses anyone? We have a few.

Or belts? They ALL have shiny jewels on them! Pretty!

We now entered one of the many sections of the flea market that are full of boxes and the boxes are full of items that are made in China.

Because women and men alike need a camo tank top. Note how it says "AMERICAN" across the top.

Or maybe you want First Quality tanks. They give you medium sized biceps and make you feel as if you're floating in the clouds.

You can imagine how excited I was to see this next item...

Shoupies!!!!! Actually they're called SUPER Shoupies! Tou Wen Zi Fine Point Permanent Marker SUPER Shoupies! Love it.

And underneath those...

Shizixing SUPER Shinies! Does it get any better than this? Well, we will all have to wait and see. My flea market trip wasn't over yet, but I'm tired for now. I will go to bed dreaming of Super Shoupies and Super Shinies.

Um, I forgot the title...

2011-03-21T20:50:00.004-04:00

I'm feeling old, tired, and stupid. I'm going to write a blog about it. Put that in your laptop and smoke it.

I am a huge advocate for breastfeeding. I have nursed all five of my kids. I was asked recently why I do it. I wanted to ask back, "Why wouldn't I?" One of my main reasons is because of the proof that it increases their brain development. I know their brain is still growing just like the rest of their body and who doesn't want to help out their child in the "smartness" department?

I've heard that everything has a price. Well, the price I've paid for my children getting breastmilk and better brain cells is the total and utter decrease in my own brain activity. My children may be getting smarter, but I am quickly going down the path towards total idiot. I can't remember words. I mistake imaginary characters for real people. I forget important numbers. I purposely put something in a safe place so I'll know where it is only to discover I can't remember my safe place. I stare at people while they are talking to me and I don't hear anything they're saying. I can't answer questions without the help of an encyclopedia. And when I open it, I have to strain to remember alphabetical order. Sometimes I make mistakes when correcting my kid's schoolwork. They are so excited that I have missed something. I am thinking about all that sweet breastmilk I sacrificed for them, and now they want me to do multiplication too? Go get a calculator, smarty pants.

Is it just the breastfeeding? Or is it my age? Is it both? When did I get older? How did I get here? Since when did the "classic rock" station fill up with songs from when I was in sixth grade? Since when do I think that 40 "isn't that old"? When did I start saying things like, "I just need a little peace and quiet" with my forehead all wrinkled up? How long have my hands looked so old and sad? And I won't even begin to ask about my body. After five children I'd like to zap my skin with an amnesia gun and make it forget the stretching out and in, out and in, out and in...will someone hit the reset button please?

I know that young, fun Julie is in there somewhere, but she doesn't change diapers, wipe cracks, do tons of laundry, and buy things in bulk. So she hasn't come out to play in a while. But that's okay. Adult mommy Julie can be fun too. She can make scrambled eggs. And give a fun bubble bath. Every once in a while she can still write a witty blog. And she's highly entertaining if you want to laugh at someone who can't remember her kid's names or where she's parked her car when she's standing right in front of it.

Top 'o the mornin' to ya

2011-03-17T10:18:00.003-04:00

We don't celebrate St. Patrick's Day but we do try to wear green if we go out in public. I don't want strange old ladies at the library or grocery store pinching my children. So here's Juliet's green. This shirt was given to me by a friend. She apologized because it was a six to twelve month size and she knew Juliet would only be two months when St. Patty's day came around. But if you're an Alley, you can fill out clothes that are a bigger size with no problem.

I know what you're thinking. How do you do it, Julie? How do you cope every day with so much cuteness oozing from your baby? Well, it's not easy. I try to handle the overwhelming desire to just get into bed and snuggle with this angel until I can't lie there anymore. She is more precious than a pot of gold. We love her!

GROSH!

2011-03-11T21:55:00.005-05:00

I have done my dear Libby a disservice by not blogging sooner about her writing. Libby is a writer. And illustrator. She is so productive it would put any artist to shame. She is constantly fleshing out her creative ideas and putting her imagination to pen and paper. We are all entertained by it. The bunk room is, as Jimmy put it, "a story graveyard." Libby has used approximately 2.5 reams of paper so far this school year. She writes. And writes. And draws. And writes and draws some more.

Lately it is comics. They are so genius and funny I have finally saved a few back and photographed them tonight to share on the blog. Hello, hello, hello...

Here's another one in the "comic world" series:

These next few were done in pencil so I've tried to make them easier to see. This first one is quite long, about dog and cat. Here is the cover and the first three frames:

And this is a cover I found on the floor...she never wrote the comic (on to something else I'm sure) but I love the name "Evil Dr. Mean Guy." And I'm sure he would be defeated by "Super Kid."

Libby, I think you're a super kid! I love you! Mom

A time for Windex

2011-02-25T23:55:00.003-05:00

Since Juliet was born I am very often asked, "What's it like with five?" And I haven't come up with a response. I think people are just being polite and don't really want a response, but I've been trying to come up with one with no luck. Today, I figured it out. Mostly, it's the same only you add breastfeeding and diaper changes and middle of the night feedings. What's the same? What it's always been with kids. A dichotomy. Wonderful and overwhelming all at the same time. There are times you want to pluck your eyes out, and times you're winking at someone. Times for hugging, times for a spank. Times for eating, times for pooping. Times for laughing, times for crying. And all of these can happen simultaneously somehow. It is irony at it's best. And it is life all around me all the time.

What made me come up with this amazing insight to such a flippant question? It came through Penelope. Today we were cleaning up the house. This means I was trying hard to make sure no extra messes happened. Penelope got the Windex off the counter and began to spray (a lot of) it on the french door rectangular windows. When I discovered what she was doing I said, "Stop!" and went to get a paper towel. No need, she was rubbing it around with her bare hands, then rubbing her hands on her shirt. As I was tearing off the paper towel she said, "I'm washing the index, Mom!" And there it is. A time for a mess, a time for something really cute. What's it like with five? It's awfully good, terribly terrific, and there's lots of laundry.

Aliens and Terrariums

2011-02-15T21:31:00.004-05:00

Last night when I went to bed I decided I was going to wake up and do something fun. The weather was supposed to be perfect so Cash stayed home from preschool, we abandoned normal homeschool work ("Just do your math") and the kids and I built a terrarium. I intended to take pictures of every step but I forgot. I've got a good excuse(s). I was dealing with four loud children who seemed to think they knew exactly how to do something they'd never done before. Plus, they all had hammers and were flinging dirt.

Meanwhile, I'm shushing everyone so the baby wouldn't wake up, doing constant laundry (can't suspend laundry day, sorry) to the tune of my dryer which squeaks like 200 fingernails on a chalkboard, and I cut myself on an exacto-knife. So the camera kind of took a back seat.

But here are the steps we used to build our terrarium. And the pictures of steps I did remember to photograph. A friend recently gave us his aquarium so that's what we started with.

Step one: Fill the bottom of the aquarium with dirt. That little plastic container on the side is cut on the top and half the remaining bottom of it acts as a little ramp a creature could go down to get inside the little "cave".

Step two: Add a layer of rocks. We didn't have rocks (and I don't take all five children to the store to buy rocks, puh-lease) but I did have some tile under the house so we used hammers to break up the tile into small pieces. The children totally should have been wearing eye protection and Cash and I both cut ourselves on tile, but sometimes you just live on the edge.

Step three: A layer of spanish moss. There is plenty of this in my yard.

Step four: Put a bowl for a little pond.

Step five: More dirt.

Step six: Plants! Plant them and water them. Add whatever bugs or worms or caterpillars or centipedes the kids can find. Jackson found a lizard, put his hand down into the terrarium to let him go in and the lizard ran up Jackson's arm and leaped as far away as possible from our terrarium. The lizard is no dummy I guess.

I'm going to get some more plants and hopefully one of the boys will catch a lizard and make it stick. It was a beautiful day and fun to be outside. And tonight for dinner I made chicken with onions on top and rice. Penelope looked at it and said, "I don't want aliens!" We gave her chicken without aliens and the kids went back outside to play. I love nice weather!

Pics, nips, and quips

2011-02-14T19:25:00.007-05:00

Here are Cash's nipple tattoos which he applied on Sunday morning before church. I made him put on his nice shoes, all the while he has tattoos on his nipples. We can try to impress, but underneath it all, we're pretty much as wacky as Buzz Lightyear on our chests. (I had a cute pic of him in his underwear showing tattoos on his arms and legs as well, but I'm trying to keep a little of his four year old dignity intact.)

Here are Libby and Cash at the "Sweetheart Tea" at Preschool on Valentine's Day. Cash chose to bring Libby. I have to admit I encouraged him in that direction. But if anyone deserves to be called his sweetheart, it's Libby. She has been an amazing big sister to him from the beginning. Penelope wanted badly to be in the picture but I wouldn't let her. I told her I'd take a picture of her after I did them.

And this is the expression I got. Typical Penelope. Obstinate but so cute doing it you almost forget. Almost, Penelope. I said almost.

I also wanted to record a few funny things that Penelope says. I don't ever want to forget that she calls pajamas "ja-mammas" and yesterday she asked for a "garoney" (baloney) sandwich. A couple weeks ago Libby had a friend named Lily over. Penelope was asking me where Lily was. It took me the longest time to figure out what she was saying because her "l's" are "w's". So she kept saying, "Where's Wihwee?" I finally got it when she said very emphatically, "Wihwee! Wibby's friend!" Last night she wanted to play with her "Princess hunnel." She meant tunnel. It's a collapsible contraption you can crawl through. And if she messes her pants and I'm about to discover it she says very quickly, "I don't care, Mom." And when I see what she's done I realize what she's talking about. When it comes to pooping your pants, I do care. But I know they'll grow out of poopy pants, funny words, and nipple tattoos. Until then I get to love and live with it all.

Newbie

2011-02-02T22:00:00.005-05:00

Here is my precious newborn baby. Can I just say that there is nothing like it? Holding and loving a newbie. Feeling them against your chest. Kissing their soft skin. Listening to their little breath and feeling it against your lips as you kiss them. Holding out your finger so they can clutch their little fist around it. It makes my heart full of life and hope. My sweet girl is one month old and has been really good and is getting so big already. Here she is hanging out in her crib.

I was lucky to get a smile in her sleep.

Here's the peanut gallery who had to view every picture on the back of my camera as I took them.

Juliet and Cashy-boy. All her big brothers and sisters like to hold her and kiss her.

And this is what she looks like most of the time...she lays on the floor and watches all the chaos that surrounds her!

Sweet angel! We love you!

For the love of Toast

2011-02-02T21:33:00.003-05:00

I love toast. I truly do. Is there anything better than bread and butter? Oh, wait. There is. Toasted bread and butter. I eat it at least twice a day. Too many carbs for you? Not me. I will be morbidly obese before I give up toast. I'm not real into food, but toast I can get behind. The appliances on my counter? A bread machine, and my four slice toaster. (And down at the end, the microwave.)

My toppings of choice? Well, there's just butter, of course. Then there's cinnamon sugar (with butter first, of course), honey (with butter first, of course), peanut butter (butter first still), and jelly (I always apply butter first of course). For lunch I often eat sliced cheese (on top of toast with butter) or yogurt (on top of toast with butter). Yummy! (And for those of you who are worried, I don't always use real butter. A healthy spreadable margarine will do too. But the best choice is butter, of course.) Okay, enough about how much I love it. On to my point.

Now. There is something about toast. You must butter it while it is hot. And you must eat it right after buttering. Otherwise, you've compromised it's ability to completely satisfy. And I never trust the toaster. Even if I've scientifically set the toaster, I'm always using different types of bread and so you never know when you might have to manually override the toaster and pop it up yourself. So I keep watch while it is down. Oh, the patience it takes to wait for the perfect browning. Nothing beyond a deep sepia color. Move into the chocolate browns and you've let it go too far. But don't pop it up while it's still just warm bread, you're making toast here!

Okay, I've digressed again. I could write for a while about toast. My point to all of this was that these days, I've been ruining toast. I push down my toast in the toaster and cannot wait for it. The baby is crying. Someone can't reach the light switch. Someone spills their milk. "Mom! I went poo-poo!" and so on. I think I have time to wipe a crack or locate shoes or switch out laundry while my toast is down. I abandon it. It burns. Or worse, it pops at the perfect browning but no one is there to butter it and it sits there and gets cold. Oh the tragedy.

I know one day I'll have all the time in the world to stare at my toaster and butter and eat it promptly. And that I'll wish I had children pulling on my legs asking for a piece. But for now, I just wish my little munchkins understood the sacrifice I make every day (at least twice a day) when I walk away from my toaster with my bread in the vulnerable position. But you are worth it, little ones. And you're probably the only thing to me worth burning toast for. (Don't tell them, but sometimes if I mess up my toast I offer it to one of my kids so I can start again. Hey, it's the least they can do!)

The Minivan

2011-01-27T21:16:00.006-05:00

If you've got kids, what goes on in your vehicle is a lot of things. In mine, it's messy, loud, stressful, fun, loud, tired, joyful, sad, excited, educational, loud, crazy, and loud. But you know what? It's my van, and it's my business. It's between me and God what goes on in there. Once I close those sliding doors the world outside doesn't have to be a part of my transportational chaos.

Until today. Could you imagine someone revealing an unknown audio recording of the sounds of your van- recorded randomly without your knowledge for an undetermined length of time? This happened to me today. Twice. Jimmy and I and the kids were out running errands and Jimmy made a phone call on his cell phone, unintentionally leaving his phone on after voice mail picked up on two different calls. So there sits his phone in the middle cup holder of our van, recording everything that's going on. Luckily, the calls were not to any of his clients so we're good there. And he actually got a compliment from his co-worker who listened to a few seconds of her "live in the Alley's minivan" message. She heard some whining and said we were patient with it. Whew.

But oh, the horror! It really gave me a reality check. I would hate for people to hear some of the not so nice mommy moments I know I've had in the van. Some of the questions I answer to the best of my ability but probably not so wonderfully because I'm distracted by driving. How often do I say, "Don't pee, you can hold it, just pee in the bushes when we get home" or (after I'm already out of the driveway and down the street) "Buckle up--Now!" or other such embarrassing things.

But when I really stopped and thought about it, I wish I had more recordings of our rides in the minivan. I have had to answer many a question in the van. Buckle down a child with a five point harness without much to do and they ask all kinds of interesting things. The minivan houses the soundtrack to our life--there's always music going. Our outings are full of everything that happens when you are in close quarters with people you love. So...good times, laughter, and fights. These things are what makes us a family. But please Jimmy, no more unknown recordings. Because you never know when I might need to scale the back seat to help someone pee in a cup.

B is for Beautiful Buttons Blog

2011-01-21T12:54:00.008-05:00

One of the secrets of my home school is my mom, the queen, the primary grades teacher of 27 years. She taught mostly kindergarten, and saved many of her files, from a to z. I went through them when Jackson hit pre-K, and have benefited ever since.

The most favorite thing I gleaned from her past as a teacher were coloring pages of the Letter People. I used the Letter People when I was in school, and can remember how much fun they were. My friend Noelle and I whom I went to school with from K to 12th grade, used to sing "Mr. M has a munching mouth" into middle school.

My kids LOVE the Letter people. I start doing a letter of the week when they are in PreK, so this year it's for Cash. Every week on Monday I reveal the letter, shape, color, and number of the week. By far the most anticipated event is which letter it will be this week. And, in turn, the coloring of said letter person on Thursdays. Cash wants to color the letter person all week, which is why I make him wait until Thursday. It gives him something to look forward to. We also look up online the movie (which are puppet skits from the 70s) and song (I download the MP3) every week. Even though Cash already knows his letters and their sounds, we do it anyway. They love the personification of the letters. It is really exciting for some reason.

This week is letter B. Mr. B. has beautiful buttons. I happen to have a jar full of eclectic vintage buttons that came from my Granny's estate. I got them out and we had fun doing sorting activities with them. Afterward, I suggested we turn Cash into Mr. B. and cover him with buttons. The kids thought this was a great idea and I ended up doing it to all of them. You know you have boys who are growing up when your 4 year old tells your 9 year old he's going to put buttons on his privates. Thank goodness I only have two boys and not five. So here is Cash, posing as Mr. B. Happy letter learning to all those preschoolers out there!

The End of an Era

2011-01-18T22:02:00.004-05:00

We have been going to Family night at the Chick Fil-A in the Tallahassee Mall here for years. You get a free kids meal with the purchase of a value meal. And all the kids get free ice cream. This saves us about 12 bucks every time we come. It's Tuesday nights. This means that every Tuesday we decide to go (which is most Tuesdays) I get to use the hour from 4-5 p.m. when I'm usually cooking dinner, to clean up the house and catch up on other chores. It also means we get home right at bedtime and kill the witching hours out at the mall. The way I figure it, we make money on the deal. If you figure in what we would pay for groceries at home, the utilities we save by using the mall bathrooms for 2 hours, what it would cost to pay someone to do the cleaning up I do every Tuesday afternoon, and the time kill, it is totally worth it.

Through the years the mall has had its ups and downs. I remember the Tallahassee Mall being cool when my sisters were in college here. I even played miniature golf on the course behind the mall which is now overgrown bushes we drive by every week. The mall got a movie theater shortly after I came here for college and had a surge of good years but since we've been going there on Tuesdays it has begun to decline. This is good for us because the mall is like a ghost town and the kids can be a tad disruptive (because my kids always max out at "a tad disruptive" --right) and you don't feel like you're bothering anyone. We invite friends. We put together 8 tables. No one cares. Imagine our disappointment when we found out last Tuesday that the mall is going up for auction and Chick Fil-A has decided to pull out and will be closing on March 31st.

I have tried all week to put it out of my mind. I planned a big "last time" party event in my mind for sometime in March. I figured we'd invite everyone who ever came with us to the mall. It seemed so far away. Unfortunately when we arrived at Chick Fil-A tonight we found out that it was the last "kids eat free" night. It is the end of an era. We can still go to the mall until the end of March of course, but it will not have as much appeal--having to pay full price.

This evening the children were eating and hanging out with their friends. Unaware that their sweet hook-up of nuggets, fries, and ice cream once a week was coming to an end. I gazed at their innocent faces. They smile, dip their fry in ketchup, and laugh, fully oblivious of the implications this has for us. It is completely and totally sad. Little Juliet slept in her car seat and I looked down at her sweet innocence. She will never know the good times at the T-mall.

Other restaraunts have kids eat free deals. Even other Chick Fil-A's in town. But we own the mall. It is our space. I have come to enjoy the smell of the questionably nasty food court. The eclectic music they play. The stuffiness of the mall as they try to save money on their utilites by raising the thermostat. Too bad it didn't work. I would have endured even hotter temperatures to prolong kids night a little longer.

So I will recite the cliches you tell yourself when change like this occurs. The end of one thing is always the beginning of something else. At least we still have each other. Everything will work out in the end. When God closes a door, He always opens a window. All's well that ends well. Eat more chicken!

Scoot n Zoom

2011-01-15T13:18:00.007-05:00

Sometimes I think about the fact that by having five children, I've increased my chances for experiencing familial injuries. If I only had one kid, the probability of me visiting the emergency room and doctor's office would be much less. But as it is, we've actually only visited the emergency room with a child once--last Wednesday when Penelope busted her chin open on the wood floor due to an accident on the "Scoot n Zoom" toy she got for Christmas. These toys are great. A huge hit. But for some reason it locked up on her and she went over the front.

Penelope was a really good patient and as you can see from the pictures, is very proud of her stitches. (And also has really clean nostrils!) :-)

The Dream is Alive

2011-01-09T21:33:00.003-05:00

It is time I devoted a blog to my wonderful husband. He has been really incredible this first week of my post-partem recovery. Being married to Jimmy is nothing if not eventful. He is always fun and makes me laugh all the time.

This past week was not without Jimmy excitement. It began on Wednesday morning. My mom and I returned from taking Juliet to the pediatrician and Jimmy's first question to me (with a panic stricken tone) was "Have you seen my phone?" He was referring of course to his Blackberry, which he needs for all things real estate. The phone was lost. We retraced steps, looked everywhere, explored all possibilities. We couldn't find it anywhere.

Meanwhile, since he was handicapped as far as work goes, Jimmy decides to cash in some lottery tickets he got as a present from my brother in law for Christmas. We do a $3 Christmas in my family. Your gift amount cap is $3. So Jimmy got three scratch-off lotto tickets. With those three he won $4, so he bought four more. Then he won $21. He pocketed $10, then bought 11 more. He's still going. Coming back from the convenience store saying things like, "The dream is alive!" Currently, he's $1 in the black.

During these crazy escapades to the corner store to cash them in, I'm begging him to stop. I mean really, is there ANYTHING more white trash than playing the scratch off lottery? I think it is pathetic, sinful, stupid, ridiculous...need I go on? Yet I love my husband and his excitement for the game seemed to make him happy and was a good distraction for a man forced to stay home phoneless on a rainy day with his recovering wife and mother in law.

Late Thursday afternoon he figured out where his phone was. He had placed it on top of the van when taking Cash to preschool on Wednesday morning. So it had traveled a few places and of course it had rained so it was soaked. Since then it has sat in rice, baked in the oven, and been taken apart and put back together countless times by my determined man. He's been unable to get it to work completely, but it lights up so I believe there is hope.

Tonight in the van Jimmy turned up a little Guns N Roses. When I was a middle schooler, Guns N Roses for me, a Christian music youth groupie, was like one step above full out Satan worship. Now, I allow my husband to play it loudly for my children. Even with a newborn sleeping in the back. This is only because I love him with my entire being and see that he loves music, and that it makes him happy.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I don't really approve of the lottery or heavy metal music, but I fully approve of my husband. He loves me and he loves our kids and he showed that multiple times this week, while being very entertaining in the process.

Juliet Hope

2011-01-08T10:53:00.003-05:00

Juliet Hope Alley

December 31, 2010
7:11 p.m.
8 pounds 4 ounces
20.4 inches

Birthing Technology

2011-01-01T20:34:00.004-05:00

Well, baby Juliet has arrived. I gave birth about 24 hours ago on the last day of 2010. Still in the hospital but wanted to record some thoughts about this experience. I feel free to express myself because I'm pretty sure no one reads blogs anymore due to the hated Facebook. (No offense to anyone who uses it. I love you. I hate Facebook.) And even tweeting has not made it to our family. I love birds. I do not like to tweet.

I felt as though this was the first birth experience that was filled with technology. I'm kickin' it old school, pushing the baby out and all without the help of a robot or anything, but meanwhile my husband and those around me are connected at the hip to the internet and cell phones.

It started when Jimmy decided to post on Facebook that I was in labor. Little did we know, Jackson had already logged in at home to his Facebook and informed all his Facebook friends of our new status. He got a talking to for that one. Then, as we were in the labor and delivery room, Jimmy decides to try and Skype with Jackson and our other children (and my dad who was home with them) and talk to them while I'm having contractions. (I could only tolerate this because I ended up getting an epidural.) Don't I leave the children at home during labor for a reason? If I wanted them in the delivery room, I'd bring them. I don't need them "skyping in" while my body is doing it's work.

Although a little disconcerting, the Skype thing was pretty cool. I could wave at the kids and tell them I love them and reassure them things were going fine. When Juliet was born, Jimmy called them up with the laptop and showed them their new pink naked baby sister on the warming bed. Meanwhile, I'm after birthing and doing things that come after birth (was that vague enough?) and telling Jimmy across the l&d room..."Don't point that thing over here!" The last thing I need is for my four kids to see their mother in that position.

What made me laugh the hardest is earlier today when Jimmy was having a few words with Jackson on Skype, trying to speak sternly to him about something, in an attempt to help out the grandparents and remind Jackson to behave. Not thinking, he said, "Jackson look at me." (Jackson was sending emoticons galore, what 9 year old doesn't like those things) So he stopped, and looked at Jimmy. He's on the computer screen in front of him. But Jackson looking at Jimmy on the computer screen doesn't mean he'll be looking his dad in the eye. So Jimmy tries again, "No Jackson, stop looking at the computer. Look at me." And I'm cracking up, trying to explain to Jimmy that if he wants Jackson to look at him, Jackson has to NOT look at him and stare at the web cam. It was pretty funny.

I barely ever leave my kids. But I leave them when I have a baby. I need to focus and take a few hours to get better. Having Skype and cell phones to communicate with them really makes things more difficult in many ways. What is the most wonderful thing about being me and having a baby? Not technology. Having 4 awesome grandparents who love my kids and are totally willing to help out with them even though they are jumping off the walls, crying a lot, keeping them up at night, and sending beer mug emoticons to their crazy excited proud dad in the hospital.

I birth the babies, Jimmy links to the world and informs them what's going on. Hey, at least I blogged this. Status update: still blogging. behind the times. don't facebook. have babies. but I'm quitting that one now. (insert smiley emoticon)

Merry Christmas 2010

2010-12-25T11:32:00.002-05:00

Merry Christmas from the J Train! Whoever you are, we love you for reading our blog! If we usually exchange Christmas cards, I've got a hard copy of this photo for you...I just haven't mailed or run into you yet! The baby in the photo is not our new one...she's still in utero and seems to be content to miss this Christmas. Hope your day is merry! Love, the Alley's

The Nursery

2010-12-18T12:13:00.002-05:00

I got to fix up my nursery for our coming baby girl. It is also the guest room. It is pink and girly and I'm not afraid to add some birds. Will I ever tire of birds and trees? I don't think so. They are just too soothing. So here she will sleep. Complete with my dad's first pair of shoes and one of my favorite pictures of my mom and me. I was her third girl, and this will be my third girl. I feel extremely blessed. For the baby and a space to call hers.

Collections

2010-12-18T11:56:00.003-05:00

Well, I've been without my husband and kids for a few days...free to nest and organize and enjoy complete quiet. And groan out loud when I'm in pain, for there's no one to ask what's the matter. They are on their way home now, so I'm wrapping up and planning on raising my feet high in the air for the last hour of solitude...my ankles have risen to a new level of huge.

While cleaning up and doing projects around here I found some interesting collections. The most impressive was my collection of plastic grocery bags. I really wish I had photographed them or at least gotten an estimate. I'm sure it was a few hundred. But I found some other things I had multiples of...
Who knew we had seven hammers in the house?

And Jimmy's accumulation of big drink cups was quite impressive.

And though I can never find a pencil when we need one, we have plenty of scissors. I love scissors. You can't have enough. Getting them all in one place makes me quite happy.

And then there were these cuties. I'm getting ready to add one. Long live the snot suckers.

I also came across huge virtual collections, like the 4 GB memory card I emptied and backed up on CD's. Quite a feat if I do say so myself.

And then there's the collection of movies I "watched" (which means played in the background for noise to keep myself company)...I always pick movies with good music since I don't really watch them, just listen to them...quite a good selection if I do say so myself...
School of Rock
You've Got Mail
13 going on 30
Music and Lyrics
While You were Sleeping

I guess that's it. I'm ready for my collection of children to return.

The Excuse

2010-12-05T23:32:00.003-05:00

Here it is. My excuse. The excuse. This is the last month I'm going to have it, so I just wanted everyone to know that it's really the best excuse. There is no excuse better than, "I'm pregnant." And though in general I do love being pregnant, it brings about some challenges. And everything from dropping something clumsily to forgetting your social security number is covered under "I'm pregnant." So I'm planning on using it every chance I get for the next four weeks. Here are just a few of the things I'm planning on getting "excused" due to my condition.

forgetting I'm supposed to be somewhere
being late
not showing up at all
having b.o.
eating whatever I want (or don't want)
not cooking
taking a nap
going to bed early
sleeping late
groaning out loud
fat ankles
fat thighs
fat fat
my dirty toilet
my dirty floors
all the dirty clothes
moving slowly
looking and feeling like a blob
making poor decisions
getting emotional
"losing it"
generally slacking off

Come quickly, sweet baby. Because as much as I enjoy having an excuse for spilling things, forgetting things, and yelling at things, I'd rather not do these things. And not do them wearing normal clothes.

Shiny Happy People

2010-11-09T19:25:00.002-05:00

Does this happen to average people? Do I have unusual kids? This morning I awoke to R.E.M.'s "Shiny Happy People" blasting from wireless portable speakers sitting on the kitchen counter. I had been doing some cleaning and unearthed them so Jimmy set them up yesterday to see if they still worked. So this morning of course, the kids cranked them up at 7 a.m. I wish it made me feel shiny and happy but really I wanted to stay in bed a little longer. Not get up and dance to a trippy song from my middle school years.

This song was the only one they played all the way through. The speakers were connected (wireless-ly) to our computer, so I heard approximately 20 seconds of about 25 to 30 songs before I pulled myself out of bed. Meanwhile, Jimmy is snoring next to me. I don't know how he does it. But there's hope for all of you out there with zero to one child. You can be conditioned to sleep through quite a bit. And if you're like me, though you might not be able to sleep through it, you can learn to tolerate it. Even when the Johnny Cash song "Sam Hall" plays, you can let it go and not even worry your son (named Cash) will start singing it at preschool that day and ruin your reputation as an upright Christian home school mom.

So all day I'm thinking about Shiny Happy People. I looked up the lyrics. There's nothing to them. Just happy people laughing, holding hands, throwing their love around. Putting it in the ground where the flowers grow. And really, I need this pseudo-hippy approach to parenting sometimes. Throw a little love around. Hold someone's hand. "There's no time to cry...happy happy..." Yet somehow my evil mommy eyes seem to pop out of my head without my consent.

And so I thought about that. The evil mommy eyes. The face you make when you say something like, "If you touch that one more time, I'm gonna..." or the face you make without words that can say all by itself, "Don't you dare cross me right now." I decided I'm not at fault for this. Every mom I've ever known (and especially my own) can make the face of a prison warden who is nose to nose with an inmate. It comes with the job. The scary mom face. It's not shiny or happy. It is one of the few tricks in our arsenal of mommy tactics. We must use it to keep the kids in check. And I don't think we have to be holding hands and laughing all the time. I was just thinking today that I hope I have the balance between drug tripping laughy-ness and the intimidating mom face that brings the children into submission. Because when the speakers blare at 7 a.m. you have to face the music.

Costumes 2010

2010-11-02T22:16:00.004-04:00

Not much to say about these costumes. But if you need a doctor, princess, Superman, a basketball player, and the sun, moon, and stars, our family was on the ready the day before yesterday. Enjoy!

In My Dreams

2010-10-22T08:26:00.002-04:00

I've got to make this quick because I've got to get the day started. Currently my children are on the back deck in their pajamas blowing bubbles making all kinds of noise. In my mind it is payback to the college students across the street who were partying into the night last night and now are trying to sleep. Good luck on that one with the Alley kids outside.

Back to the point. I have hit 30 weeks pregnant and now the countdown begins. I have made my "get done before the baby comes" list and will now begin to feel the push and reality of welcoming a baby into the family. There is something about counting down the last 10 weeks that puts me into overdrive.

I also, of course, am experiencing all kinds of pregnancy fun. Like tiny droplets of water hitting me in the face in the shower after they bounce off my stomach. The return of my love/hate relationship with TUMS. The 10 point turn when trying to go from one side to the other while lying in bed. The major plumbing problem when it comes to urination. (Someone is sitting on my hose and putting a major kink in it!) The inability to "squeeze by" anyone or anything. The small groans that escape my lips despite my desire to hold them in. Need I go on?

And finally, the fuel for this blog, the dreams. A little insomnia, a few crazy dreams, the inability to fall asleep because I'm running through possible birth scenarios where I don't make it to the hospital in time...lots happens when my head hits the pillow.

Two nights ago I had a dream in which I had a sleepover for all my girlfriends. It was at the house where I grew up. I'm not sure what we did, but at some point in the night Jimmy arrived in a full sized yellow school bus to take us all somewhere. As he backed out of the driveway he was waving at my parents, showing off a bit, when he slammed into a big building behind us. I was so mad at him! "You could have hurt my friends!" I said.

Then, last night, I had a revelation in my sleep about Jimmy's perfect eyesight. I told him that his perfect eyesight was a gift from God and that he should be using it in his work. So I suggested that he go down to the greyhound dog track and see if he could get a job watching the races.

These are just a couple of the crazy dreams. But I realized something yesterday as I related the bus dream to Jimmy. Out of all these dreams I've had, they all have something in common. In all the dreams, I never have any children.

I am Glue

2010-10-10T15:21:00.003-04:00

I love adhesives. I even like the word adhesive. If I could outfit an art studio I'd really only want school supplies. Paper, scissors, glue. I love glue. It takes something flimsy and makes it sturdy. It takes two things and makes them one. Adhere something. It will make you feel better. It is therapeutic.

Sometimes I feel as though I am glue. Around here, the mom makes things stick. When I am not doing my job, things tend to be flimsy and unstuck. I would like to say that I am a rich, deep yellow wood glue. There is nothing more beautiful and reliable. But lately, I am a glue stick that is almost gone and has had the lid left off for a while. Nothing is more frustrating. You need to stick something together. You reach for your glue stick. It is partially dried up and almost gone. You try to make it work. And it's just not enough.

Now into my final trimester of this my fifth pregnancy I am a sad, sad, glue stick around the house. I have a hard time bending over. I don't like to stand for long periods of time. I have a small amount of pain all the time, thus making me grumpy and short-tempered. I am trying to be positive. I want to be glossy modge podge. Making everything shine and coating everything with an addictive smelling odor everyone loves. But I am nothing sticky. I am feeling used up and the house is suffering the consequences.

I want to write a blog about how wonderfully cute and precious and excellent life is. And when I choose to focus on that, I can. And it is. But when I lie in bed at night I think about glue. How I love it. I love being the glue. But I've run out and I'm not going to be able to make it to the store to replenish my supply until after this baby comes out. Then, I'm going to get much stickier again. I will move past this unsticky season. Until then, I'll squeeze out what gluey-ness I have left and try to be thankful I can still make some things stick. And when I get down, I'll get out the Elmer's and give it a squeeze. Because I love adhesives.

The Fantastic Four

2010-09-08T09:34:00.005-04:00

The kids got a 30 second timer from a kids meal at Chick-Fil-A. So at dinner last night Jimmy challenged us all to be completely quiet for 30 seconds. We failed. Multiple times. It wasn't the same person every time, but we just couldn't make it. I am convinced that the only time we could be quiet for 30 seconds in a row is when we're all sleeping.

I have also been thinking about the Boxcar children. There were four of them, two boys and two girls, just like my kids. Jimmy, being a realtor, has access to many vacant homes. I was thinking that we could just leave the kids here, in my rectangular "boxcar" home, if you will, and Jimmy and I could become squatters at various nice homes in Tallahassee. I really think the kids could make it now. We could drop off some groceries every now and then. Maybe some new underwear. And they could last for a while. The boxcar children even moved past mere survival on to solving local mysteries.

I am only joking of course, but one sometimes considers it when you enter the kitchen and your children are "making grape juice" by crushing sticky grapes all over the place. But "don't worry mom, we're eating the skin too, we're not wasting it." I'm glad you're so resourceful, kids.

I have also been thinking about the baby and kid items that every parent wishes they sold in stores but would never be patented because they're potentially dangerous. Like, the elastic band that goes around your baby's face to keep the pacifier in. Or, which I've been in need of lately, the fence you can attach to your bunk beds to make them into huge cages so your kids are completely contained at night. Or a shock collar for screaming. If I could find a way to get some of these on the black market, I could make millions.

Anyway, here are my fantastic four. Capable of all kinds of feats of strength, yelling, mischief, happiness, and love. They are the best.

First week of school

2010-08-28T20:07:00.004-04:00

Lots going on around here...I started home schooling so I'm extra spent and a little crazy in the head. Trying to get everything around here on a regular disciplined schedule, (insert "yeah right" face) I exercised twice this week with a workout video. (Insert "it was lots of fun" face.) The first time it was pregnancy yoga. Yoga schmoga, but I figure maybe it will make me a little stronger when labor comes around. I have struggled all week with the image of the video instructor in my mind. She was pregnant too, but could not have been any skinnier or wearing tighter pants. Saying things like, "Look down at your toes...I know it's getting harder and harder to see them" and "If you're feeling light headed at all, please stop and rest." As I've thought about this woman, even though I'm sure she's a nice person, I just want to punch her right in the gut. And I'm pregnant too, so I'd know how to make it hurt real good.

The little ones try to participate with me and say things like, "Isn't that hurting your baby?" as I bend over to face the dog. Yes, kids. But not physically. I'm just scarring her emotionally from the womb as I deep breathe her into inner core strength at a ridiculously young age.

I also did a stupid thing and perused some blog (I never look at blogs much) written by a home school mom who likes art and interior decor and such. This was extremely depressing for me. How do these people have time for constant home rearranging and blogging about it? They must have lots of money and hours with a babysitter. Right? Please don't tell me the children sit quietly in a corner all day reading classical literature and emerge every three to four hours for a high-fiber organic snack. Because this almost makes me want to vomit. But nothing can really make me want to do that. It did inspire me to a little more creativity so it was worth it I guess.

Anyway, my first week of home school in reality was full of crying and fun and amazement and frustration and wide eyes and love. And I'm tired. And I stopped when I felt light headed. And I didn't ignore anyone to refurnish a piece of furniture ("on a budget" which from what I saw meant "with lots of money") and write an elaborate blog about it. I fed, clothed, loved, disciplined, and tried to educate these little munchkins. And as always, they ended up educating me.

A perfect fifth

2010-08-06T13:35:00.004-04:00

Today I had my big huge ultrasound where they check out everything on the baby in detail. She (confirmed a girl!) looks great and I ended up having to bring Libby, Cash, and Penelope with me. They did great and all earned an ice cream treat when we got home. I was so proud of them for sitting reasonably still and also proud of my little one for cooperating and being in all the right positions to get everything measured and checked out. I feel so blessed to have seen all the right spinal connections, facial bones, 20 digits, heart stuff, etc. She waved at us really great...holding up those five fingers--she knows her place! The kids each got a copy of that picture. Penelope was looking at the picture on the way home and I heard her say, "I'm going to be so proud!" Me too, Penelope!

2, 4, 6, 8

2010-08-05T22:44:00.002-04:00

It's summer again and so the ages of my kids have lined up to be 2 years apart. I dreamed of this 3 1/2 month stint of time when I was pregnant with Penelope and realized that at this point, summer of 2010, I could use the cheer "Two, Four, Six, Eight, who do we appreciate?" and be talking about my kids and their ages. It has happened. When you're me, these things make you feel happy. Now I'm messing it all up with a child who will be three years behind next summer instead of only two. How dare I! Just kidding. I'm grateful for the extra space.

Last summer I did a 1, 3, 5, 7 catch up on everyone...so here's this year's...

2- Penelope
Penelope (whom I call Pip and Nel Nel as well as Penelope) is growing into a beautiful girl and has left babyhood with all the grace and poise of a normal toddler. Translation: Sometimes she poops her pants and gets food all over herself even though she's not a "baby" anymore. Yet she also does so many grown up kid things like bargaining how many books we read and dressing herself in uncoordinated outfits. (She gets that one from Jimmy.) She has her finger on the pulse of the house just as much as I do and covers her ears when someone close to her is too loud. This is what I want to do, and really, I'm not sure why I don't just do what she does. When Cash whines or screams really loud just cover my ears and stare at him blankly. It seems to work for Penelope. There really isn't enough keyboard in the world to describe her wonderful and precious antics. Some of my favorites are when she bosses us all around. Things like, "Jackson, play with me!!" or "No, not that one, I need my bow blanket!" I also get personal enjoyment when she is not wearing underwear. I mean, how many more months will her booty be so darn cute and she even has a little bit of a tan line! I just can't resist it. Am I a weird mom if I like to stare at my daughter and her naked rear? It is just too much. Okay. I have three more kids. Must move on. I love you Penelope!

4- Cash $
I place the dollar sign because this is pretty much how Cash and Jackson and Libby have come to write his name. I use abbreviations in dry erase marker on the kitchen counter tile and have the kids place their cup for the day there. Jackson- Jax Libby- Lib Cash- $ and Penelope- Pip. So Cash has come to expect a $ after his name. It's pretty funny. Cash is quite a handful these days but makes up for it in spades by telling me multiple times a day things like, "I love you mommy and I want to love you forever." Or I might ask him to do something and he'll say, "Yes, Mommy, I will do it because I love you." I'm not making this up. He has become quite the lover. A few months ago he told me he was going to give me "a prince kiss" and so I leaned over for it only to have him grab my face and turn his head to the side, place his lips on mine and hold them there for quite a few seconds. The head turned to the side just about did me in. He also tells me that I "fell from the sky" for daddy. As if I was a dream from heaven. Yes, Cash, let's spread that one around! He really is a sweetheart. He always wants to help me cook and he is a really hard worker. If I give him a shop vac and stick him in the van he won't stop until he gets every last piece of dirt. I have to pry it out of his hands. Love the hard worker in you, Cash.

6- Libby
Oh, God bless the child who is so much like yourself. I feel like I have an ally in Libby. We want the world to work in a certain way and when it doesn't we get frustrated. I feel her pain when circumstances thwart her plans. Welcome to my life, Libby. I am always telling her we have to be flexible. But I feel her pain when things she is pretending or working on get undone. She takes it in stride, though. She constantly amazes me with her productivity. The amount of drawings and writings she has made make me jealous. If only I could be so productive creatively. I would be growing by leaps and bounds artistically! And Libby is. Her writing and drawing are always bringing Jimmy and I to each other quietly saying, "Did you see this?" And we are so proud of her. She is quiet but always listening and processing it all. She does wonderful things like work puzzles with Penelope or Cash or reads to them. Often I call out her name because I haven't seen her in a while. I just want to make sure she's still on the premises. She is, usually sitting at the school table drawing or pretending with toys. She is getting big! Quite a little girl. You are special, my sweet Elizabeth June!

8- Jackson
Jackson is extraordinary. This week was my birthday and he asked very quietly if he could take me out, stating that he was paying. He took me to see a movie, and then afterward quietly asked me if I was hungry. It was SO heart warming for me! What a little dater! I would go on a date with him any time. We saw "Ramona and Beezus" and he brought his copy (which used to be mine) of the book into the movie in case we needed to refer to it. As we left we bought big 25¢ gumballs and I did my best to chew it but only made it to the parking lot. He kept at it and enjoyed it for a while, acting silly with his mouth so full. I think God gave me a really smart mom who knows young kids and used to always say, "I think it's important to answer a child's questions honestly and fully" because He knew I was going to have a kid like Jackson. He is constantly saying, "Mom, I have a question." and I have started responding, "Of course you do." I will forever and ever and ever answer your questions, Jackson. This is my job and I love it and I love you!

That's it. I wanted to add pictures but I'm too tired! I'll add some soon. 2, 4, 6, 8, I really really really appreciate my kids. I sometimes feel like I'm living in a dream world where the blessings just don't stop. It is amazing and unbelievable at times. All I ever wanted was a house full of kids. I wasn't fully aware that it would translate to a house full of crazy, but hey, you take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and there you have...it's getting late...

More on dirt

2010-07-28T21:01:00.003-04:00

I know a lot of people worry about the images of females we put in front of ourselves as women. As in, we need to be careful we don't think we should look like pictures of women in magazines. Those are models, we are regular people. We don't want to place those expectations on ourselves.

Well, I've got a new one. It's those pictures of people's houses in magazines. I confess, I wish my living and dining room looked like a magazine spread. I'm constantly needing to remind myself how unrealistic they are. Like, the random cutting board with 4 perfect lemons on the counter. No mail, no stickiness, no dishes. My favorite is when there's a big hairy dog right smack in the middle of the gleaming wood floor. They must hire a single person to follow around the dog during the photo shoot with a dust buster. Anyway, even though I know it's not realistic, I still long for it.

In my mind, I can get it there. I envision my walls full of cool art and photos and all the surfaces clear. In my personal reality, it couldn't be farther from it unless I unloaded a bottle of chocolate syrup onto every surface. Now I know I'm supposed to let go of this. That one day, my children will be out of the house and I'll have tons of time to magazine-ify my house. I should be content, even happy, that my rooms are full of life and thus a beautiful mess. But really, this doesn't always do it for me. I want it all. I want messy life AND pristine decor.

So what do I do with this revelation? Do the children need more chores? Do I need to get rid of more stuff? Should I hire someone to follow the children around with a dust buster? I'm not really sure. And all of the above.

One of the Queen's (my mom) famous quotes is, "Play is a child's work." This is what I observe every day. They aren't trying to be slobs, they are just hard at work playing. I ask them again and again to put away, throw away, etc. But when they are in the middle of a streaming imagination, I just don't think it soaks in. So the constant reminding can be difficult and wears you down. When I come into a room and discover someone has emptied the contents of a pencil sharpener on the floor and left it there, I honestly don't want to call them away from their "work" to come clean it up because they are occupied and independent from me.

I wish I had some sort of solution or funny ending to the mess, but I don't. I just want to put it out there that I'm tired of cleaning things up. I know like a trillion and one moms have felt like this before. I know that my mommy work is nothing compared to some of those that have gone before. So I hereby resolve (again and again and again) to love the mess. Because the people I love most in this world left it there.

I recently read this anonymous quote:

"Mothers fight all their lives against dirt, and when they die, they are buried in it."

I'd like to donate my body to science, in hopes that my skeleton one day hangs in a classroom of some sort collecting dust. I'd like to go from dusting things while alive, to collecting unlimited amounts of dust with no ability to make a move to clean it in death. Dust and I currently have a pretty close relationship so I think it would work out.

Brace Yourselves

2010-07-22T21:17:00.002-04:00

I figured out what has been happening to me lately. I have been wondering for quite some time why just the presence of my children puts me on edge. My body has not been feeling happy and relaxed much lately because of the pregnancy, but I feel really guilty that I'm constantly saying things like, "Please don't touch me!" In the past months it has been due to constant nausea because even the slightest movement would elevate it. Some of that is still lingering, but I still find myself in need of an even bigger "personal space" bubble than I normally require.

Tonight I realized why. I had been working very hard all day to rearrange/clean/organize/paint the boys room because it has become the girls and boys bunk room. I am cramming all four of them together to allow for a bigger school room and also space for the baby. So at about 6:30 this evening I really felt the need to sit and put my feet up for a few minutes. I allowed myself to do so. Only to be bombarded, as if my legs, which were stretched between the ottoman and couch, were horses. When I requested that stop, I got a visitor right next to me and an elbow in the gut. I realized before he even climbed up next to me, that I saw it coming and "braced myself" for whatever a heavy toddler next to you may bring.

It's like the little army men who control my muscles cried, "INCOMING!" and my entire body went on the defensive. I need so much extra grace! When I'm at a low patience level and my body is pushed to the limit, it is so hard not to wish everyone had big kid sized playpens I could stick them in so as to admire them from a distance. It's like I can't totally relax until I know that no one is going to bombard me with body weight! But let me tell you how I really feel.

Anyway, all that said I am in more love than ever with all of them and gave out some tough love tonight with their new "4 in a room" sleeping arrangements. It was hard but needed to be done. Like, new rules. Or rather actual enforcement of old ones. No talking or getting up and such.

One more really important thing...Brace Yourselves...our baby is a GIRL! I found out Tuesday. We are ultra excited and it is pretty early but the sono tech seemed 100% sure so I'm taking it! We are thrilled and so are the kids and I must admit I'm a little relieved to not be outnumbered by Alley men around here. Because if I have four of those, I'm really going to look into those playpens for adults. But they would need to be self-cleaning...the ideas are really flowing now...

Bella 8/22/08-7/7/10

2010-07-09T19:32:00.006-04:00

Well, I have sad news to add to this chronicle of Alley life. Two days ago our dog, Bella, was killed on a highway near my parent's home. She had run away one night while some of us were setting off some fireworks. She was afraid of them. We were leaving there this morning explaining again to the kids why we were going home without her...she had run away and Pop-Pop would get her if someone called and said they found her. We had hung up signs and were checking one of them out as we turned on the highway. We began to accelerate and soon Jimmy began to slow down. He wouldn't tell me, even though I kept asking, why he was stopping on the side of the road. He had seen her in the grass shoulder and was going to make sure it was her. I knew of course but tried to remain optimistic. He tried to lie to me when he got back in the van but I knew. We pulled into a gas station and had a little pow-wow. I said we should tell the kids. He reluctantly agreed. There was just no way I could lie to them about how she might come back and someone might find her, etc. So he went into the gas station and said I could tell them. I don't think he wanted to be there.

I sat in the seat and basically just said it. It ended with "...and she got hit by a car or a truck and she's dead." Not exactly sugar coated but I've never done this before! The middles, who sit in the very back of the van, both burst into tears. I wasn't expecting this. I immediately crawled back there with them and helped them feel better with words and motherly touch. I never had the need to believe that animals go to heaven but I had no problem telling my 4 year old that she was happy in heaven now. It was great opportunity for telling them that God knows the number of our days and that everything He does is to take care of us and for His glory.

It of course hasn't even sunk in totally but I've been okay with it. It's hard to understand but really it has just made me thankful that I lost an animal I loved and not a person. Because if the animal leaves a void, I can't imagine a human member of the family. I almost lost it a few minutes ago (this is what made me go ahead and write all this) in the van I was on the way home from dropping Jackson and Libby off and two different birthday parties. So it was just me and Cash and Penelope in the car. We passed a man walking a black dog and Cash said, "Mom! I just saw a man walking a dog that looked like Bella!" I said, "Yes, I saw it too, Cash." And then Penelope said something about wanting Bella to come back.

What transpired for the next 10-12 minutes (a long time in kid conversation) was a discussion about where Bella was and what had happened to her. Cash wasn't sad, he just plainly told Penelope that Bella got killed and now she was dead but that she went way up into the sky into heaven and she is alive again. It really touched my heart! Amazing how he has totally moved on. How he's happy to tell others that she is alive with God in heaven. Later he said, "I think God has dog food in heaven because he has to feed Bella." And, "Penelope do you know who God is? He loves us and we love him and when we die we will go to heaven and see Him and Bella!" Penelope finally got it sort of and said, "Bella is dying" and Cash said, "No! She's alive again!" So this was very confusing to Penelope and I had to ask Cash to lay off the alive again stuff so that Penelope would understand. It was a moment I know I will never forget. It was priceless to have the older ones away so that Cash could talk about it without being corrected or interrupted. Hearing his conclusions about all of it really warmed me.

And now a few words about Bella. She was a great dog. We got to have her for one year, and as much as I hated her shedding and watching her eat poop, I will miss her too. She made me feel safe. I slept every night knowing she would never let anyone get past her to our bedrooms. I knew she would warn us of any danger. She was so very tolerant. The kids would dress her up, lie on top of her, attempt to ride her...and she never complained. She had soft ears and a soft heart. I was constantly amazed by her loyalty towards us. She was just a "dumb dog" but sure did love us, even when we didn't deserve it. I hope we can do the same for each other. Stick together no matter what. Thanks Bella, for loving a crazy family like ours. We'll miss you!

Fourth of July and some Blueberries!

2010-07-05T11:27:00.003-04:00

Happy Fourth of July 2010!

Cinco-de-Kiddo

2010-06-22T15:02:00.003-04:00

It is time again. Time for me to announce on the blog, for the sake of the history of our family, that I am pregnant. I have been dreading this announcement for many reasons. First of all, I've been so nauseated that I cannot sit in front of the computer without consequence. (I get up feeling even worse.) Second of all, I don't want the J train to turn from "cool quirky family with four kids" to "crazy people who home school and have lots of children." And thirdly, well...the first two reasons were enough for me putting this off.

Today when I broke it to my pediatrician and he said (after I asked) that his big families were mostly either "LDS" or "Religious home school families" I assured him that we were church people, but that we were "normal church people." What exactly that is, I'm not sure, but whatever. I mean, we all watched the Cosby's in the 80's and they had five kids. No one thought that was weird, right? It was totally doable. Even funny, with the constant jokes about no one ever leaving the house. I mean, if the Huxtables can survive so can we, right? I admit, they were living on a doctor AND a lawyer's salary, AND their house didn't have four walls, but I'd like to think they were real and they thrived, even with five kids. Can we just be creative starving artists who love kids? Because that's what we are.

We are excited and feel blessed to add another to the family. The kids are excited too. I was afraid of selfish reactions but they all wanted to name the baby right away and while it's tempting to give the baby a name thought of by the whole family I told them "If you want to name a baby you can grow up, get married, and have your own!" (A very Cliff Huxtable kind of thing to say, I thought.)

I am feeling all the normal physical issues of pregnancy and it is at this point that all us mothers wonder how in the world we can forget how sick, fat, and tired you feel under the weight of a tiny being. It's like I want to knit on a pillow "Pregnancy is hard" (that's the edited version) and display it on my couch in case I forget. When I'm not pregnant, it seems rosy and miraculous. When I am, it's hard work. But one advantage I have is that there are four miracles running around here that prove to me every day that it's worth it. Let's knit that one on a pillow. Because no matter what challenges this new one brings, it is life and it is precious. I am privileged to be a part of it all.

Piercing Fun

2010-06-02T21:26:00.004-04:00

Libby got her ears pierced today! It was part of her birthday from us...she will be six in a little over a week. Because of my multiple frames per second camera, I was able to get quite the progression. You can see she was fine for a few seconds, then began crying once she realized it had hurt. She is fine now and such a cutie, I love her to pieces. Of course she's feeling great afterward with a purple lollipop.

This is before...
During...

And after. Such a good kid to smile for me when I ask her to!

And a quick funny... Today I heard a strange noise from the computer room where Jackson was supposed to be cleaning up. I said, "Jackson, what the heck?" (It's hard to admit I said this--but whatever.) He responds, "I'm the heck!" Yes, Jackson, that is exactly what you are. Smiles.

CSI and an Art Show

2010-05-19T23:09:00.004-04:00

Tonight I discovered 4 blue X's on my couch. (Will it ever end?) Cash told me Penelope did it. She has been writing on herself again lately and I believed him. I brought Penelope to the scene of the crime, and disciplined her. (I won't say exactly what that means lest some might get the wrong idea about me...) She cried. I went to get the cleaner for the couch. Libby followed me, saying that it was NOT Penelope but that Cash did it. I really don't know who to believe so I questioned Cash and he was very insistent that it was NOT him, that Penelope did it.

I began to believe Libby since she kept insisting it was Cash. He became more convincing, and I decided he must be telling the truth. Back and forth I went. Libby would not let it go. She became quite the investigator, making me a believer by simply explaining, "Mom, Penelope can't make four perfect X's. Cash did it." And I stopped to assess Penelope's writing abilities and discovered she is correct. It must have been Cash. I disciplined him as well. In the same manner. I didn't do a very good job. He said, "That didn't really hurt Mom." Well, then I did the job better, if you know what I mean. Thank you, Libby for your crime solving skills. (And she was actually a witness as well, so that helps.)

And also, last night we had our Home's Cool Art Show and here are a few pics. I am glad the home school year is wrapping up for me. I've done this a few years now and I think they really are learning something. Like you know, crime scene investigation and such. And how to make perfect X's. What I need to devise is a class for my entire family about writing utensils and their purposes. I can see the syllabus in my head already. Class One: SHARPIES. Class Two: Ball point pens...

If it's yellow, let it mellow

2010-05-04T22:37:00.003-04:00

Just wanted to document our trip to Busch Gardens this past Sunday. We didn't bring any sort of still or video camera and I was thinking, if you don't have pictures, did it really happen? Because I really think it's possible to forget events like this, even though I've always been really good with dates and my own personal and family history. When enough time passes, these things sort of blend together.

It was a fun day filled with lots of cool things for the kids to see, plus I got to ride two roller coasters! But the strongest memory for me was when Penelope decided to sample some of her own urine. My kids are growing up and I fear I'm going to run out of these kinds of stories yet still they seem to happen to me.

I was watching Penelope, Libby, and Cash play in their swimsuits in the kiddie water playground. Basically a bunch of falling water contraptions and spouts of water that come up from the ground. Penelope is potty training and doing quite well, so I just had her in her swimsuit with no diaper or anything. There were a lot of kids there and a lot of parents, so when she began to spread her legs and look down and watch the stream of yellow going through her suit and onto the rubber ground, I was standing a good distance from her so I decided to pretend she was not my child. I figured she'd finish her business and move on, and if anyone was grossed out by this they wouldn't know who to blame.

I'm doing fine until she reaches down, catches some of the pee in her hand and puts her hand to her mouth. But I'm committed. Besides, I really don't want to admit to being her mom at this point. Yet I can't let it happen twice so I go over and catch her in the act and redirect. She looked at me as if she knew but didn't care. This is toddlerhood at it's best. The "I know it's bad for me but I'm going to do it anyway and see what happens" mantra they must brainwash the toddlers with when we're not looking. Like, if we played their kid videos backwards it's going to say, "Eat poop, bite people, and run the other way when your parents call you!" This, I believe, is why God makes them so stinkin' cute. Because if any person over the age of 4 samples their pee, we are repulsed by them. But when my angelic looking 2 year old does it, it's really quite funny. But still really gross!

I'm sure there are times I've lost it when my kids want to pretend like I'm not their mom. This is the nature of family. We're figuring it all out together and we love each other regardless. And in the end, it all goes down the same drain.

School of Rock

2010-04-29T09:49:00.003-04:00

Let's hear it for the boys!

This week my girls are with grandparents (one with each set) so they're having great fun and are getting lots of attention I'm sure. So it's just me and the boys, and we're having a blast. Complete with secret words--when someone says it you scream PeeWee Herman style.

Last night lying in bed I had the idea to do a rock star photo session with them and they complied and came through with flying colors. I only had 10 minutes until Cash had to be at school but I coached them into a variety of expressions and the result did not let me down.

These boys are so creative and so much like Jimmy. They brought home a CD player from my mom's house last weekend. They immediately plugged it in and had an air band going within seconds. There is quite a void without their sisters but we've made the best of it and rocked out the week anyway.

Thank you Jackson and Cash! You are my little rock stars!

Always behind the camera...

2010-04-20T22:47:00.007-04:00

I recently took photos for the children's ministry at our church. I went around to all the classrooms and tried to capture the kids and volunteers in action. I've actually done this 3 or 4 times. For gifts for the workers, website photos, etc.

Sunday I was taking photos and I went into Penelope's class. She's pretty well adjusted and I didn't think it would be a problem, me going in and out, but I tried to sneak a bit and hoped she wouldn't notice me just in case once she saw me she would want to leave. I was crouched down behind her taking a photo, unseen by her yet.

I snapped a picture and as soon as she heard the sound my camera makes when it takes a photo she turned around and said, "Mommy!" How interesting that she can associate her mother with a sound. Very animalistic to me. She knows not only the sound of my voice but the sound I make with my little machine called a camera. I of course took a picture of her.

Because of my constant state of photography, my kids are very comfortable with it. Cash has noticed he can see his reflection in the glass of my lens so he bends himself into the middle of the frame to do so, no matter who he is stepping in front of. He then makes a face like kid would make in a mirror--totally unnatural.

My photography has advantages and disadvantages when it comes to taking pictures of my own kids. I have the advantage of nice equipment, and experience, but the disadvantage being I take off the hat of mother and put on the hat of photographer when I'm trying to capture a moment. I see mothers laughing with their tiny point and shoot cameras and I'm a bit jealous. They are still totally part of what's going on. They are still living life, they're just holding a camera while doing it. I, on the other hand, suspend my participation in what's going on in order to get a good shot. This is why I often leave my camera at home. I want to watch them through my mom eyes, not through my camera lens.

Here's the picture I took of Penelope right after she identified me by the sound of my camera. And Cash leaning in to see his reflection, illustrating my point. And in the photo up top, I am actually holding the camera. And Penelope isn't really waving, just trying to grab it, which of course goes on all the time.And here's a funny one I got at church. This is a friend from Junior High and High School, Tim Naddy. So since he knows me, (and this is his sense of humor) he was not afraid to pose as if he was asleep on the job. As a photographer I love it when people "work with me." Hey, Jesus was asleep in the back of the boat, right? So he's just being Jesus to the kids! Sleep on, Tim.

Spaghetti Night

2010-04-14T22:47:00.002-04:00

Ah, Spaghetti. Such a great go-to meal for a mom like me. It's easy to make and the kids love it. The mess it makes, however is not so easy. Last month we visited my family and my mom was going to serve spaghetti and meatballs. I gave my kids a ham sandwich instead. Because whenever we eat spaghetti it's usually straight into the bath afterward.

When we came home I began feeling a little nostalgic and sad. I remembered that I don't have babies anymore and that my kids can totally handle spaghetti and how odd that I've been so programmed to think that spaghetti equals mess. I felt silly for acting like my kids and me couldn't handle the menu.

Well, it feels good to say, I was right. Tonight we had spaghetti. I admit I cooked it on bath night on purpose. And we had the kids take their shirts off. It was like this crazy feeding frenzy and I had been looking forward to enjoying a normal, quiet meal together. Hello, Julie! Don't you know what goes on in your own house? A meal that is normal? Or quiet? How could I have believed this possible? Yet we are hopeful beings. Obviously!!

I somehow have been assigned to the seat next to Penelope on the bench where she is able to scoot right up next to me and share her tomato sauce in an all too intimate way. And looking around the table I felt as if I had enrolled in the class for etiquette school dropouts. Everyone's face was messy, there was an incident with the ranch dressing (isn't there always) and people who wanted seconds either yelled for them or just reached over their neighbor to help themselves. And of course there was lots of "Watch this, Mom!" as they slurped the noodles into their mouths Lady and the Tramp style.

In the moment, I could barely eat without being totally grossed out and struggled with losing my appetite. Now, a few hours later, I feel grateful for spaghetti and kids to eat it with. But let me say, it's a struggle for me to realize what my life looks like compared to what I thought it would be. Like, my dreams of motherhood never really included eating dinner with a bunch of savage beasts who scream my name not because they love me, but because they want milk. And when I used to associate spaghetti dinner with fundraisers and the Olive Garden, I now think greasy bathwater and laundry stains.

But they LOVE it, so I make it. Over and over again. All the mess and cleaning required is totally worth it to me to give my beloved family a yummy dinner. Period.

Art & Misc

2010-04-09T22:00:00.004-04:00

I'll try to make this short. But I'm behind on updating life here and a lot has gone on. Easter and Cash's 4th birthday and a concert to name a few. And I'd like also to share what I've been thinking about lately-- creativity.

It seems as if I've been molded in life for creative things and pursuits. I began as a small child with music. I started taking photographs in high school. I got my college degree in art. I taught drama for a time after college. I write. I long to be good at just one of these things but find myself doing just a little of each and never mastering anything. Yet all of this together actually has made me good at one thing: cheering on the arts. (I was a cheerleader too, so it all comes together.)

I have always felt that one is closest to God, their own creator, when they create. Even the most "uncreative" (so they say) person can make something new. I never believe someone when they tell me they are not "artsy" or creative. I tell them, "You get dressed every day. You are wearing art. And if you don't wear clothes, that's an artistic statement itself." And what's more, we all listen to music and watch various kinds of media every day. Art is everywhere. You can't escape it.

Cash turned 4 this week and we went to a park to open some presents and have a little party with his Nana and Pop-Pop. All he wanted was a chocolate covered granola bar and an umbrella. He got both. He also got some presents. I had found a bunch of Star Wars figures at a garage sale so I snatched them up and wrapped them for Cash. One was Darth Vader. He looked down into the gift bag, saw who was coming next, and began to sing "dum dum dum, dum-da-dum, dum-da-dum" as he pulled if from the bag. Thank you, John Williams. Do you see how art just makes our life more fun? And presses in on us without our conscious consent.

Last night we helped put on a concert by Eric Peters, an independent musician from Nashville, TN. Jimmy and I have been wanting to bring him back to Tallahassee since we saw him here in college a couple times. He put on a great acoustic show and we played a few songs before he went on. Jackson got to go with us to watch. The last time we played a concert was March of 2003. Jackson was 18 months old. So he doesn't remember seeing us play. He video taped it and ran concessions and pretty much had a blast. We left the concert and he told me he wanted to see other bands live. Like U2. Eric or "Mr. Harry Peters" as Cash was calling him stayed with us overnight and Jackson enjoyed showing him his worlds he's drawn and cried when he left. I truly think Jackson felt inspired creatively by the whole experience. It was great to watch.

So I myself am encouraged anew to support art. Especially art done by artists that realize where their gift came from. Creative talents and gifts can only come from heaven itself. I always said I would have a wall in my house that my kids could draw on. I never did this, but my refusal to remove sharpies from the premises have afforded me enough permanent art. My kids are like little creative plants and I hope I can water them every single day. May I encourage them and other artists I meet to "Create, create, create. Produce, produce, produce." And as a result give back to God what was already His in the first place.
About the photos: Cash at his preschool party wearing his "4" crown. And also a good one of he and Libby, whom we now refer to as "the middles." Also some pictures from Easter, when we dyed eggs and ran in the grass in our Easter clothes. And one of Eric Peters, whom I did a photo shoot with this morning before he left.

The Daily Grind

2010-03-25T19:24:00.000-04:00

I always worry my blog seems like I'm overwhelmed and tired all the time and that I complain too much, talk about poop too much, and generally sound strung out. Some really nice people recently told me that it's not so, that all moms can relate to my reality. Well, last night I was feeling pretty tired and didn't accomplish as much as I wanted but I just felt so spent. It's not lack of sleep, I just feel like the noise and busy-ness of my house sucks the life right out of me by the end of the day. I thought about it today, when I was feeling refreshed.

I was remembering a marathon I watched a long time ago. (I don't remember if it was the Olympics or what - I was a young girl.) It was a women's race. This runner was coming into the arena/track to run her final lap and finish the race. She was so exhausted that she became disoriented and for lack of a better word, loopy. Her coaches/teammates were desperate for her to finish but they could not touch her so they gathered around her, trying to use their voices to communicate what direction she needed to go to cross the finish line. After looking to me like a crazy person off their meds, she finally crossed the finish line and immediately collapsed.

This is often how I feel at the end of the day.

Like I've been running a marathon which has stripped me of all my physical and emotional energy. I no longer care what I look like, who is watching me, or how much sticky is on my person. I just cross the finish line and collapse. I am delirious and make no sense. I am in need of someone who can lead me to bed. Forget the victory lap, I'll use my extra time to sleep, thank you very much.

And this is how I often feel on a normal day. Doing the normal daily grind. Even without the "Dog eats dirty diaper and smears it on the rug" or "Wind blows through van and begins to litter the entire parking lot with mom-van trash" headlines of my life. (These things happened to me today. Aaah!) But somehow the spectacular is in the daily grind. It's on mile 17. Somewhere in the middle of all this running someone makes a memory. Gives a hug. Loves each other. And feeling like I have no brain cells left is worth it somehow. So to all the moms out there in the trenches, keep on running. Wipe a nose better than you ever have before. Read a book with commitment. And for heaven's sake, if you have a dog, keep your poopy diapers far away from them!

The Black Garbage Bag

2010-03-14T21:38:00.004-04:00

I truly try to follow through when I say I'm going to do something. If I tell someone I'll call them, or let them borrow something, or promise something, I try to do it. But one thing I often fail to do is follow through with the terribly threatening punishments I announce to my children.

Like, "If you don't _________, I'm going to _______." Fill in the blanks yourself.

Sometimes I forget. I will send someone to their bed for a talking-to and forget they're there until much later. Usually I remember what I'm supposed to talk to them about but the moment has definitely passed.

But usually I don't follow through because, I admit it, the children are winning much of the time. I know if I really do take away such and such because they didn't do this or that, then the crying and wailing that will ensue requires of me a whole new set of procedures to deal with the new problem. Thus, I am giving them extra chances just to preserve my sanity and my ear drums.

I want to be one of those moms who is not affected by their pleas, yet also I do not want to be remembered as a big breasted Scandinavian nanny who is expressionless and six feet tall with a big ugly mole on her face. I'm going more for the Mary Poppins singing all the time and making cleaning a game persona. And love. I want to love them.

But a few days ago I had hit my limit and decided to see what would happen if I actually followed through with one of my empty threats. It was clean up time. And of course, no one was cleaning up. They sit on their bed, fiddle with a dirty sock, get distracted, leave the room for way longer than necessary to "go potty" while I work circles around them and try all the Barney tactics. "Clean up, clean up..." and "Who can make a basket with these toys?" and "Wow! Good job!" You know, all the things you try to muster up when really you are just wondering how they got so darn lazy. Anyway, I told them that if they didn't get busy I was going to get a black garbage bag and put everything on the floor in it.

The threat: THE BLACK GARBAGE BAG

The immediate response was "No! Don't do that!" but no actual cleaning to show me why I shouldn't do this. I gave them five minutes. They cleaned up for about 30 seconds. (This was mostly directed at my 3.5 and 5.5 year old.) I decided it was time. I got the bag, while saying loudly, "I'm getting the bag!" (I was actually enjoying myself and on a small power trip at this point.) I dramatically opened it up with a big swoosh through the air and loud plastic noise. I walked into the room, and put about 2 items in the bag and the crying and wailing began.

It was not the kind of crying I expected though. It was as if these children had been separated from an appendage. I expected anger and frustration when instead I got huge tears, hurt feelings, pain and suffering. These are the same toys, mind you, that they throw on the floor, step on, take outside and leave in the elements, draw on, you name it. Yet when they went into the black garbage bag it was as if my children were losing a piece of their soul.

It was hard for me not to laugh. But I kept it up. "I'm sorry, now that they're in the bag, you can't have them back for a week." They cleaned everything else up very quickly, while sniffling and whimpering. Lesson learned: Following through on your threats can actually be entertaining. And they really began to pick up their things after that. Even Jackson, who was just hanging out in his room, sat crying on his bed because I was putting his sister's toys in a big black garbage bag. Oh, the emotions. It was totally worth it.

I will sing songs. I'll get out a spoonful of sugar. I'll ride a carousel in the park with my children and dance with penguins. But when necessary, I will not be afraid to get out the big black garbage bag and make good on my threats. Because every once in a while the mean terrible nanny must rear her ugly head and remind these children who wears the ugly mole in this family.

Sweet Pea

2010-03-02T23:12:00.002-05:00

"Where the heck is my pickle fork? I can't keep anything nice with you kids around here."

My college room mate had these cool party napkins with this quote on them. (Only it didn't say "heck" but I'm trying to censor the blog for obvious reasons...) We of course thought it was really funny with it's retro picture and the whole nine yards but I can truly relate to it now. Today I woke to the sound of breaking glass. I truly can't keep anything nice around here.

With the addition of the dog to our J train last summer, my home has gone from "can look somewhat like the residence of a white trash hoarder" on occasion to "can look somewhat like the residence of a white trash hoarder and smells like a dog". The dog doesn't really smell all that often, but when she does I fear becoming one of those homes that you want to hold your nose when you walk in. I'm pretty paranoid about it. I would not mind bathing the dog, except that it would involve getting wet and the children getting wet, which in my mind becomes something that eats up approximately 90 minutes of my day. (Oh, and the dog has chewed through the hose so it becomes even more difficult...) So I leave the dog bathing to Jimmy. And when he doesn't do it, I take her outside and dump baking soda on her. We should NOT be pet owners.

So in an attempt to make the house smell a little better, I bought one of those plug in air fresheners...the wall flowers. I fought masking the smell, but I figured maybe these people whose homes I go to that smell good...maybe they're masking something and I'm just assuming their house is clean and fragrant and that they've got it all together. They could have a bird cage full of poop in the back for all I know. So bring on the wall flower.

It works pretty good until your 2 year old unplugs it from the wall, and your 8 year old, trying to be helpful, plugs it back in upside down. It slowly drips into your basket of Christmas books and into your husband's bible, which had fallen off the chair and into the basket of books. I smelled something strong and just thought the thing was doing it's job. When really, it was just $ down the drain. Or into the books.

Now, every week when we sit in church my husband opens his Bible, which has now truly become a fragrant offering, and wafts the pages in my direction, and the "sweet pea" smell goes up my nostrils it reminds me that I really can't keep anything nice. And the saturated pages also remind me that I have been given a gift. The gift of lack of control. Pretty much everything I do gets undone. Anything I try to control becomes a loose cannon. And nothing makes your life more exciting and fun. You could never do a scientific experiment in my home because to start an experiment, you need a "control". There is none of that here. We are a runaway train full of dirty kids, dust, missing pickle forks, love, laughter, and the strong scent of a fragrance thingy gone bad. All aboard!

There's no place like home

2010-02-20T20:30:00.007-05:00

I have been meaning to take a picture of the status of these figurines for quite some time. It is pretty funny but also quite morbid if you think about it too hard so I just avoid the whole situation. I love the figures and, when they're not headless, it fits our family perfectly. I just need to buy super glue and glue them together but I find that that one simple task isn't really simple at all. I mean, first of all, I have to actually remember that I need super glue when I am at the store. Or remember to put it on a list. And then find my list if I actually make one. Plus, people are getting hurt and falling down for real around here and that just seems to take priority. And the thought of getting out super glue seems to me to spell more disaster. Even if I do it when they're asleep. Somehow, they would find it and either glue themselves to each other or inhale it until they pass out. I mean, I already keep sharpies around. Sharpies and super glue? I can't even imagine. I know, excuses, excuses. Fix the decapitated family members already, Julie!

So what made me think of these figures today? When this happened:

Penelope had used the drawers as stairs (not her idea) and climbed to the top and brought the dresser down with her. Libby used Jackson's standby, "DANGER, DANGER, DOUBLE DANGER!" which he doesn't really say anymore and I knew she would only use it in true danger (I love my literal little girl) so I went to see what was wrong. Penelope sat crying on the floor next to the dresser. I scooped her up and asked what hurt. She held out her finger which appeared to be fine. Whew. I felt quite a bit of relief. The only visible injury appeared to be done to Raggedy Andy who lie underneath the dresser with his red striped socks sticking out very much like the Wicked Witch of the East. So this whole scene just made me think of my figurines and made me thankful for such supernatural protection against falling houses. I mean, dressers.

Our Adventure

2010-02-11T12:56:00.004-05:00

I seriously need to record what we've done over the last week so I don't forget but I've felt too intimidated by all the events and I fear a blog that is so long no one will ever finish reading it.

And even longer will be my take on the whole experience. But I will try.

We borrowed my parents pop up camper and hauled it down to Jimmy's parents house in Brandon, set it up in their side yard, and "camped" in it for 5 days. We were visiting because Jimmy's brother Gary and family are there, plus Gary's wife Sharon's sister and her two kids were there, so there was limited space in the house. We thought it would be a good test to take the pop up camper there, to see if we could hack it at a real camp site some day. I think we passed the test, but we sure don't want to try it again any time soon.

Jimmy kept telling me it would be an adventure. I begged to go on a different day when Sharon's sister was almost gone and there would be no need for a pop up. No, it will be an adventure. I begged to drive my mini-van behind him in the pick-up truck so we wouldn't all have to cram in the extended cab truck and be so close to each other. No, it will be an adventure. So I kept reminding him of this adventure.

When Jackson woke up screaming the first morning at 5 a.m. and woke everyone up I said, "It's an adventure!" When an alarm in the pop up went off on the second morning and pierced our ears until Jimmy ventured all the way to the garage to retrieve a screw driver to fix it, I said, "It's an adventure!" On the third night, when we were freezing and sleeping in 40 degrees, totally unprepared for such weather I said, "It's an adventure!" On the fourth night, we crammed into the house. Still an adventure, but at least under normal temperatures.

So this is what I kept thinking. Under regular "non-adventurous" circumstances, my patience is put to the test every hour. I can barely hold it together sometimes on normal days. So being able to remain sane and just plain nice to those around me was a huge test under these "adventurous" circumstances. Because really, to me, now an "adventure" means, let's do everything we can to make our lives much more complicated and busy, let's be loud, let's encroach upon everyone's personal space, let's get sleep deprived, let's cram ourselves into tight spaces, and let's do all this with a dog. Add some cold temperatures and an allergy attack and hey, "It's an adventure!"

So the whole thing for me culminated in the ride from Brandon back to my parent's house to return the pop up. We were all crammed in the cab of the truck and travelling at nap time. (Nap time is slowly becoming meaningless for me since I only have one child who naps. This is currently one of the saddest parts of my existence, but that's another topic.) I was desperate for everyone to be quiet so that Penelope could sleep and I could catch a few minutes of sleep myself. I knew I had reached the end of my adventure when I turned around and said in some monstrous (but quiet) voice, "If you do not stop talking and be quiet some sort of fire is going to shoot out of my face!" I knew I had reached my limit. We arrived at my parents house and I grabbed my bag and headed straight for the shower. Because sometimes, the adventure is over and you just have to wash it all down the drain.

We really did have fun visiting with family and each other. We took the kids to Disney World on free "volunteer" tickets. We got to see friends we haven't seen in two years. So it was totally worth the "adventurous" circumstances. But Jimmy has said more than once he's not going anywhere for a long time. And I all but kissed my bed when I got into it last night. And the kids actually didn't awake before 7 a.m. this morning. Glorious sleep! I'll consider it hibernation in preparation for the next adventure!

"I wub you"

2010-01-26T21:45:00.003-05:00

Lately lots of things seem to threaten the state of my mental health...potty training, sand in my sheets, inches of rain that have turned my backyard into a bog and my house into a sandbox...but luckily all these stressors are all washed away by the beauty and wonder of my family. Someone is always saying something you wish you could put in a bottle and save for a day when you're feeling blue. A couple weeks ago Penelope and I were sitting next to each other at dinner. I have a bench on one side of the table and we were sharing it. She stands up most of the time to reach her food better. Thus, she is at the same level as me. She kept leaning on me and putting her arm around me, sliming me with dinner goo and crumbs. I was trying to take it like a mom but your personal space while you're eating is pretty important when you're me. Just as I was about to reach the level of annoyed she put her arm around me and said, "I wub (love) you." Is there a greater reward than this? I haven't found one on earth. I hope my children grow up and remember how much I love them, not how stressed I can get at times. These stressors really pale in comparison to how things could be. I could not just have sand in my sheets, I could have no sheets at all. I could have a dirt floor instead of dirt on my floor. But I have even more. I have people who love me, and really, this gift is enough to fuel me to overcome whatever stress threatens my sanity. The stress actually keeps me sane. It makes me appreciate those around me that, though they may cause my stress, help me get through the day. This is getting really cheesy. Like, I'm rolling my eyes at myself.

So on to something else. A week or two ago I dropped a yogurt cup at Publix and it opened and spilled everywhere. I said under my breath, "What the crap!" and immediately regretted it. But you move on. A couple days later Libby spilled her drink and Cash said, "Libby, what the crap!" and then, after I told him we don't say that, proceeded to remind me that I said it at Publix when I dropped the yogurt. How does he remember these things yet he runs around naked and can't remember to go put on a pair of underwear when I ask him to? What the crap?! Just didn't want to forget that one. I love my Cashy-Boy. He's going to be 4 in April! Everyone is growing up around here and it's freaking me out. But I take it one day at a time.

And one more thing, the kids are really enjoying the swing set and have played out there a lot for the last 3 days since it's been up. They swing and sing at the top of their lungs and eat lunch out there and just have fun in general. The dog lays around out there and watches them and I feel a little bit like Bella (the dog) is like the nurse dog in Peter Pan. Like, I need to get her a little barrel that goes around her neck and I can fill it with snacks and baby wipes and maybe a first aid kit? I could probably have the house to myself for a few hours at least! If only I could get the dog to teach Math and Language...but I'm pretty sure the only subjects she could teach are eating poop, rolling around in poop, and knocking over the neighbors trash. Not really subjects I want my children to excel in, so I guess I'll have to teach them myself. One day at a time.

We got a swingset.

2010-01-23T19:31:00.003-05:00

New swingset!

The Alley's got a new swingset. See more on Facebook.

Jimmy

Band-aids and Library Monsters

2010-01-07T22:25:00.003-05:00

Well, we are back into the swing of things. I've determined that vacation is like ripping off a band-aid. You're feeling a little bruised and beat up. You need a band-aid. Aka, vacation. Yet eventually you have to take the band-aid off. And you cringe a little. Then, you just rip it off. Then, you scream in horror at the pain that ensues. This is how it is when you get back from vacation. A little shock and surprise at how much it burns to be back to the daily grind.

Ironically, I couldn't wait to be back anyway. You want the band-aid off and even though it hurts, your bruises have healed and you're ready to accumulate whatever life may throw you next. This is why people go on vacation. To get away from daily life, get totally exhausted and over stimulated. So they appreciate daily life. I used to collect band-aids.

Speaking of ripping off a band-aid, I took apart Penelope's crib a couple days after we got back. It was time. She had been crawling out of her crib a lot. Anyway, it was weird and sad and different but I just had to do it. Wah, wah, Julie. Back to real life. Just do it quickly. Rip it off fast and it won't hurt, right? Not really. It hurt a little!

And on the way to the library today I had one of those Mom moments where everything seems to go your way. It was a moment of genius if I do say so myself. I was excited to get books with them but at the same time was somewhat dreading taking all four of my children to the library by myself, since they usually exceed the decibel level by 200%, according to my standards. So as we pull into the parking lot I felt inspired.

"Guys, remember you have to be really quiet in the library, so if you're having trouble, just pretend there's a monster who lives in the library, and you have to be really quiet or you'll wake him up."

And then I really got going.

"And if you wake him up, he'll come out and start eating all the books, and we don't want him to eat all the books, because then there won't be any books for us to check out! Okay?"

The older two enjoyed playing the game and the younger ones bought it hook, line, and sinker. Score! Cash, whom I believed was born without the ability to whisper, talked in a whisper the entire time and at one point came up to me and asked me where the monster lived in the library. I brilliantly answered (in a whisper of course), "You can't see him, but don't worry, he won't come out because you're being really quiet!" Penelope stood playing in the water fountain (someone usually does this but at least this time she was doing it silently) and turned to ask me, "Mom, where's the monster?" She's only 2 and a couple months...she's smart, that one.

They were still talking about it in the bathtub tonight. I've always taught my kids that Santa and the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny are not real. Yet today I crossed over when I allowed my 3.5 year old to believe in a monster that lives behind the library. What have I become?

One more thing. Just because. Our dog is having trouble getting back to normal too. She is breaking all kinds of rules like lying on the rug and such. Tonight she went into the laundry room to drink from the toilet (she doesn't do this often, only when she's really thirsty because we haven't put enough water out or something) and I listened to her drink for a long time, thinking she must be thirsty. Yes, you know what's coming. I said, "Jimmy, please tell me there's not pee or poop in there." And of course, there was. Number one. So gross. I'm just sitting here staring at her lying totally content trying not to think about what's in her stomach. A monster who eats books, a dog who drinks pee...I'm in really good company these days. At least I don't need a band-aid! I'm ready to be home for a while. It's a good place to be.

Vacation--all I ever wanted

2009-12-31T08:42:00.007-05:00

2009 is leaving me and I feel the need for a final post. Our schedule has been extremely full since leaving Tallahassee for our Christmas road trip on the 20th. We dropped off Bella (our dog) at my parents house, then went on to Brandon to spend time with Jimmy's parents. On the way into town we went to the Museum of Science and Industry in Tampa. The next day we finished our shopping while Granny and Grandad made cookies with the kids. The next day we took Jackson and Libby on a surprise date to see the Nutcracker. We didn't tell them where we were going until we were in the car. Those of you who know Jackson know that this was killing him. The kids enjoyed it and so did we despite our nervousness about them falling over the side of the balcony which had a barrier of only like 24 inches or so. It was a long drop into the abyss since we were in the nosebleed section. But we escaped with no one falling and I liked the snowflake dance the best.

We led worship at our old church, Calvary Chapel Brandon on Christmas Eve, and then spent the evening at Jimmy's parents annual party. Christmas morning was full of stockings, presents, and a big breakfast, then it was off to my parents house by lunch to see all the cousins and family. We ate a large Christmas dinner as soon as we got there at which I declared that no one else in the entire world has a Christmas dinner as good as ours was that day. Seriously. We should sell tickets. Later we opened presents...this year was the "$3 Christmas" meaning we could only spend $3 on a gift (or re-gift something you already had or give something you got for free, etc.). It turned out to be quite impressive and Jimmy received two identical Mountain Dew hats from each of my sisters. They both got them for $2.99 at Ross. They didn't know they had bought him the same thing until he opened them. Poor Jimmy. But hey, he did it to himself. He likes to flaunt his Mt. Dew obsession. Just a few days earlier he had bought himself Mt. Dew flavored chap stick. (I'm doing him a masculine favor and not calling it lip gloss.) The next day the women went on a day after Christmas shopping trip treated by the Queen for our Christmas (she exempted herself from the $3 rule) and were successful in shopping and escaping the noise for half a day.

The next day was church and that afternoon we spent prepping for Monday, which was a trip to Disney's Hollywood Studios! Yes, you read correctly. We took 8 adults and 10 children to a Disney theme park during one of the busiest weeks of the year! Are we crazy? No! Why? Because we all got in free! My sister Becky's family has year passes, my sister Susan had 9 free tickets, it was Susan's birthday, so we were only short 2 tickets, since Penelope gets in free. My sister Becky scored two more tickets because her husband Jim chaperoned a trip to the Candlelight program last week with their youth choir. So there you go. AND we packed our lunches and ate dinner after we left so the only money we spent was for the kids on some trinkets as we left. It was crazy and tiring and fun and awesome and we didn't lose anyone and Susan got to ride a roller coaster for her birthday! It will probably never happen again and we were all glad we did it.

So that brings us to the last couple days which have involved thrift store shopping, more shopping, shooting, skinning, and eating squirrel, building a bonfire and roasting marshmallows, playing outside, playing the Wii inside, eating really good food, playing games, and watching football. Does anyone else want to come on vacation with us? Yes, it is all I ever wanted. While I am dreading the detox/damage control I have before me when I go home in a couple days, I am thankful for family and the holidays.

I wish I had lots of cool pictures to show but we haven't really had the camera out that much. I didn't want to take my work camera into a theme park. There is the annual "silly picture" of my family which came out great as usual. There are some things you can always count on. And that's partial insanity from your relatives.

Art Class Houses

2009-12-17T23:35:00.005-05:00

Wednesday during my Home's Cool Art Class, we made gingerbread houses. It was lots of fun. I was determined to take photos instead of build a house because I knew capturing my little artists at work would make great pictures. They worked hard at creating and then put their entire selves into devouring every piece of their work. At least my kids did. There was this extreme uproar at dinner. It's like they were going to die right there if they didn't get to eat it. Once we just let them at it, all was peaceful. I can hear the oompa loompas singing in my head...Augustus Gloop, Augustus Gloop, great big greedy nincompoop... The entire photo shoot is on my Julie Alley Photography Facebook page. No, Julie Alley does NOT have a Facebook account. But Julie Alley Photography does. I don't want any friends. Just fans. Ha ha.

Mom on the move

2009-12-08T22:31:00.004-05:00

Shame on me for not blogging in a while! It seems there have been no big events by which to spin my tales. Yet a lot goes on around here. So much, it seems like there's nothing exciting really happening. But when I stop and think about it, even ordinary days can be exciting.

Like today, I had exactly 45 minutes until I had to leave with the family for the mall. We were meeting some friends there for kid's eat free at Chick Fil-A. (I talk about kid's night at Chick Fil-A so much on here I'm beginning to think I should have named my blog "Kid's night at Chick Fil-A!") I was really sweaty and overdue a shower (I won't reveal how long "overdue" means in my world) but I wanted to exercise before I showered because naturally, I can't exercise within 18 hours after showering because that would be a total waste of a shower and thus my time. So I wanted to shower, exercise, and get everyone out the door in 45 minutes. I knew I'd be cutting it close. But it's these little challenges I give myself as a mom that make my life interesting.

I grabbed the dog's leash, hooked her up, told Jimmy what I was doing, and took off at a power walk. The dog was so excited that I was semi-running she dragged me all the way down our hill. I round the corner. She sees dogs. She drags me some more. We make it past. Then encounter some other dogs. I let the leash get away from me. She runs to the fence. They literally bare their teeth at me and I'm a little freaked. I make it home. Penelope and Cash are painting black streaks on their cheeks with my eye liner. My compact is missing. I can't take a shower yet because a kid is on the potty. Cash has to go too. The other potty is clogged. I send him to pee off the back deck. I'm telling Libby to hurry up. Searching for my compact. Walking through the house half-naked looking for my jeans in the laundry. Find the foam circle for my compact on the floor next to the toilet. (In prime little boy missing the mark pee territory.) I jump in the shower. Get out, get dressed, brush hair, don't apply any make-up since it's been you know where (I'll wash it out later), put shoes on kids, fool around with Jackson's shin guards (he had soccer later on), and help Jimmy get everyone in the car. Run back inside to get something for Penelope's hair because she looks like a sheep dog. I was on about 51 minutes. Not bad. I had allowed for some cusion.

We're driving two cars because of the soccer practice afterwards. Jimmy lays down a challenge to see who can get to the mall first. Why not? He pulls out first. A total advantage because we have the shortest way to the mall down to a science. But I'm up for it. The kids get into it. I pull a gamble of a move right at the end and beat him with time to spare. Victory! Sometimes, things do go right for a mom on the move. At the mall I get a steal of a deal with a gift card and take three kids home, bathe and bed them with no poop incidents or major melt downs. I even tended to the clogged toilet. Sometimes, you have good days. You exercise, shower, escape cooking dinner and purchase something fun at the mall all in the scope of two hours.

I'm not really sure if it's sad or weird that these things are what constitute a "good" day for me. But this is my life. And although my compact is still missing, I have my years of toddler experience to assure myself that it will turn up. Unless it got flushed down the toilet. In which case I've got experience in that department as well. Don't think I'd be able to reuse it though...

The Mom Fairy?

2009-11-20T23:10:00.003-05:00

Things have been eventful and busy around here since my last post. So, normal. There's been some potty training, some sickness, a week of reorganizing/cleaning, a toddler sitting in an ant pile, home school, some Christmas decorating, and a three year old who decided to stick his index finger in the pencil sharpener and sharpen it. I guess his quick wit wasn't enough, he needed a backup secret weapon.

I've also been taking tons of pictures, of which I feel very privileged to do. I look at these and I think about how exciting it is to get a good picture of your family and I'm excited for them. I know how relieved I am when I feel like I capture one of my kids personalities.

Speaking of personality, we've got plenty of it around here. I am so thankful for my vibrant little offspring. Even though they like to raise the level of demand on me as a mother to a new (never thought possible) level on a daily basis, I welcome it. I just hope they remember the times when I'm laughing and having fun and not the times when I go into my room and lock the door.

And while we're on the subject of locking the door, this is what I must resort to do if I have to talk on the phone. I have a complete and total deficiency as a parent. I have neglected to teach my kids phone manners. They in fact seem to do the exact opposite of everything I have ever asked of them in this area. Mom is on the phone? Time to yell at her, pull off her clothes and generally act as if the world will end if she doesn't talk to you this very second. I need to practice with them and get some kind of reward system going and the whole nine yards but for some reason I just can't get there. Where is my sticker chart to remind me to do a sticker chart with my kids? Where is my candy when I successfully teach something to them? Can I please get some sort of positive reinforcement from the Mom Fairy of the skies? Because I sure could use a piece of chocolate when I do something good as a Mom. A sticker? A reward? A check on my Mom Fairy chart? Anything!

What I really need is to sharpen my index finger so it will be much more effective when I wave it at them when I'm on the phone...

Birthday Suit Poop

2009-11-06T22:08:00.005-05:00

Well, I wanted to post on Penelope's birthday but it was met with a few activities I'd rather not remember. (Yet here I go anyway...) I have refrained from writing about our dog, Bella, because she is a dog. Not a human being, no matter how much she and everyone else in the family believes her to be human. Do you hear me, kids? Bella is NOT a human because humans don't do the following...

Penelope, on her birthday, decided to strip down naked (How could I not let her wear her birthday suit on her birthday??) and play outside in the sandbox. She yells for me, "Oh no Mom, poop!" (NOT words you like to hear when you're me) and I run out there to see that she's pooped outside on our deck. Not a major disaster, except that her index finger was poised and ready to play with it. Luckily, I called to Jimmy for help and caught her just in time. Now, I love Jimmy, and he's a huge help around here. But when it comes to times like this, he seems to think I've called to him so that he can come and watch me deal with the mess. So he came, and stood there. But at least I had moral support. I dragged Penelope over to the hose, sprayed her little bottom clean, while he watched, and then turned around, and, to my horror, witnessed the dog eat Penelope's poop off the deck.

I screamed and declared the dog could not come inside for at least 24 hours and of course blamed Jimmy for letting it happen. He was just laughing because, he is the true saint who cleans up after the dog, feeds the dog, deals with the trash the dog drags all over the yard, so he knows what the dog puts in her mouth on a regular basis. Penelope's poop is probably pretty clean. But having to watch the dog actually do it...I prefer to live by the policy "If you don't see it, it didn't happen." For someone who has resorted to rubber gloves to deal with excrement, I do not want the image of my dog eating it going through my head when I hit the pillow at night.

I put Penelope in the bath. Guess what? She pooped in the tub. Contamination! Had to go through getting everyone out, scrubbing the tub, washing the toys, washing the kids...aahhh!

Later that night Jackson slept walked into the hallway and lifted the lid of the clothes hamper as if it was the toilet seat and was in position and ready to let it loose. Luckily I caught him and did some redirecting. I dodged a bullet. So, I'm wondering, will I ever get used to this part of the job? Because I've acclimated to many things being a mother. But do they ever run out of different ways to pee or poop on something? And will I ever stop freaking out about it?

So here I've gone and written a birthday blog about poop. I better wrap it up before I think of more to say. Luckily we didn't celebrate on her birthday, so I can remember tonight's celebration instead of the poop fiascoes. Tonight we had cake and presents. Happy Birthday Penelope!

Here's a pic of one of her cupcakes and also a few I took in the yard yesterday of she and Libby. Dressing my girls in matching clothes will never get old to me. They love it now so I'll enjoy it while I can. They had some fun with my glasses. They're like my mini-me's in them!

Good Times

2009-10-29T23:15:00.004-04:00

Tonight Jimmy and I had a total lapse in judgement when we took our kids to the worst Wal-Mart in town, two days before Halloween. It was a zoo. What were we thinking? And isn't it funny how when one parent is totally freaking out (me) the other parent is laughing and enjoying themselves even though their children are in everybody's way and are slinging around plastic pumpkins and making WAY too much noise (Jimmy). You seem to always balance each other out that way. He was right. No one really noticed or cared. To end the trip I took the kids to the car while Jimmy stood in a ridiculously long line, and Cash peed all over his (and part of my) foot. Yes, I was letting him pee in the Wal-Mart parking lot against our tire. We don't refer to it as "the ghetto Wal-Mart" without doing our part to contribute to its reputation.

So it was a crazy ride home and another zoo trying to get everyone washed up and in bed. Libby can be extremely loud but at the same time quite sensitive to the noise. While we were out running our errands, she was crying (loudly, I might add) in the car because Cash would not talk to her. Then, while they were eating a quick snack before bed, she says to me..."I don't like how everyone talks. I wish this house was calm and no one had any mouths except me."

Well, she's right that we're not always calm. Yet still we seem to escape without too much injury. We had our first stitches this week though, when Cash fell off a chair and hit his head just right on some brick steps we have in our closed in carport. He was a good sport about it and Jimmy said he bonded with him, since he brought him to the doctor and afterward took him to Taco Bell to eat. If you want to bond with Jimmy, eat at Taco Bell with him. Even my dad has done it. They still tell the story. Crazy shopping...plastic pumpkins...peeing...stitches...Taco Bell... Good times.

Another Quote and a Naked Kid

2009-10-22T23:05:00.008-04:00

Since I recently brought up movie quotes...one of my favorites is from Runaway Bride. Joan Cusak's character says to Julia Robert's character, as she is about to marry and is nervous..."Your veil is not attacking you!"

This week I kept hearing in my head, "Your house is not attacking you!" It was just really busy and I felt like I couldn't stop handing out snacks and picking up random stuff. I've already blogged about the impossibility to stay ahead of housework before, so I won't revisit it, but I needed that voice in my head to tell me that my house was NOT attacking me and it was just one of those weeks.

The kids, with the change of weather (yes!) have started riding their bikes in the driveway. I have been asked to move the van multiple times this week so they can have full use of the downhill slope. Our downhill actually goes towards the house so it is impossible for them to roll into the street. This is fortunate because I'm sure someone would have rolled into the street by now if that were not the case.

Cash is having a little trouble making it to the toilet recently and I'm getting tired of the laundry. When it gets to the end of the day sometimes he just runs around naked. It is quite interesting the way a three year old's nakedness turns it up a notch. Somehow when they are naked they think it is okay to run at full speed, yell at full volume, and totally ignore you.

Last night Cash was naked after dinner (it was almost bath time) and Jackson went out front to ride his bike. Cash followed and I just didn't have the energy, after three days of my house attacking me, to stop him. I went out in a few minutes to find him riding the little plastic football with the base of the handles quite strategically placed. I got the camera. I couldn't resist. I got some shots. Then he got on the tricycle, same story. (Meanwhile, cars are driving by, the neighbor is outside, people are walking their dogs, and I'm way too over the "look at us we're white trash" line to care.) So I just wanted to get one more shot, of his naked little booty while riding the tricycle. But of course, he stood up and turned the trike around. I said, "Cash, I wanted to see your booty." So he says, "Okay!" and takes both his hands and spreads his cheeks apart. I guess he wanted me to check and see if he'd wiped good enough. It was totally obscene. I snapped a picture. Jimmy said, without even seeing the picture, "DELETE THAT!" It really was over the top and inappropriate. I didn't delete it. Yes, I'm admitting to disobeying my husband right here for the whole world to see. I'm sure I'll delete it eventually, but it was just too funny to erase immediately. I will of course not post it here but let me tell you it is just as "I can't believe he did that" as it sounds. With him smiling over his shoulder and everything.

Why, when I ask this child to "Go wash your hands and face" do I have to remind him 3,000 times, but when I ask for a picture of his rear end he goes way above and beyond the call of duty? Nakedness, I guess. It is his super power. It heightens his senses and gives him super specific obedience. I wish. If this were true, he'd be naked all the time! When it was time for him to come inside I literally had to stop his wheels and raise my voice he was enjoying his naked joy ride so much. I've got a new quote for the bulletin board in my brain..."Your naked three year old is not attacking you!"

sol•i•tude

2009-10-13T20:46:00.004-04:00

*I'm copying this definition from a dictionary. A paperback Oxford I can hold in my hand and smell with my nose. I'm not getting the definition online. On purpose. Get out a book once in while all you techies out there.

sol•i•tude n. 1 state of being solitary. 2 lonely place. 1) aloneness, isolation, seclusion; loneliness, remoteness. 2) emptiness, wilderness, desert island.

This definition sounds pretty depressing, right? Who wants to be in a lonely place? Who wants to feel remoteness and emptiness? Who wants to be by themselves on a desert island?

I DO!!

All day I couldn't get this word out of my head. Solitude. Solitude. Solitude. It must be around here somewhere, I'm thinking. I've just got to find it! It's not in the junk drawer, it's not under the couch, it hasn't been put through the washing machine, and I'm pretty sure Penelope hasn't eaten it. I just can't seem to grab hold of this simple noun. Solitude.

In my world it just doesn't exist. Or maybe Penelope put it in the trash.

BUT. Can you imagine solitude with no escape? Never having to wait in line for the bathroom or learn patience as you serve everyone shorter than you first? Watching a funny movie with no one to laugh with? Not having a fuzzy baby head to kiss? True solitude would suck.

It's all or nothing for me. Solitude, or so much togetherness you think you might die of too many loud and sticky people touching you. So I'll take the loud sticky togetherness. Goodbye solitude. Into the recycling bin you go. Turn yourself into raw life. It's much more fun. At least that's what I keep telling myself.

When Dad's away

2009-10-06T23:03:00.003-04:00

I'm long overdue on a blog and plenty has happened to write about but the time has passed and I'm not in the mood to look back. Jimmy is out of town and I'm braving the home front by myself which, so far, isn't as bad as I'd feared. Don't freak out babe, but I'm sort of afraid I'll like it when you're gone. Like, I can sleep in the middle of the bed, I have one less person to take care of, I have "sole possession of the remote control--very important" (what movie is that from, anyone know? don't look it up!) and here's the big one, I can kick that whole submission thing to the curb for a couple of days. Just joking. I could never survive without Jimmy...proven to me by the feeling I get in my gut when I hear his voice on the phone or when he gets home after being out for a while. I'm truly blessed.

My friend Carey's husband is out of town too and tonight we braved Chick-Fil-A with our 8 children and no husbands. Carey and I can talk till the cows come home but we barely even spoke. We just sat there with mutual feelings. Like, we were both just waiting for it all to be over so we could go home and put everyone to bed and watch TV and forget about life for a couple hours. She wins the prize for the most battle scars from the experience though since she got lemonade poured all over her feet and flip flops. Chick-Fil-A brings me back every time even though it can be crazy on kids eat free nights. I just like feeding the whole family for less than 15 bucks and being served by an eager high schooler in a tie. For someone who is always serving other people food, I'll brave the germs, sticky-ness and mess to just put it all in the trash can and come home to a clean kitchen, letting my tie-wearing friend mop up the lemonade.

The kids have been really cute missing their dad. They keep asking when he is coming home and they want to talk to him on the phone or computer. Today Jackson wrote an email to Jimmy asking him how he was. Then at the end he wrote, "P.S. Send Money!" (Double points to anyone who can tell me where he got this from!)

Angel Baby

2009-09-21T22:15:00.004-04:00

Your baby is not a baby anymore when:
-they bail out of your arms when they want to walk like a big kid
-they yell "turn it up!" from their car seat
-they crack jokes
-they remove their diaper (full of poop) and bring it to you
-they grab your face and tell you (very specifically) what they want
-they climb down from their high chair with no help
-they can sing tracks from the "Slumdog Millionaire" soundtrack

You guessed it, Penelope has done all these things recently. My baby is no longer. Just wanted to make sure I put on the blog, on the record, that Penelope has been an angelic baby, a gift from heaven. Before she hits 2 in November I am taking the opportunity to tell her (when she can one day read this) that she is my Angel Baby and I love her very much. But she is really a little girl now and I'm not saying that she will cease to be an angel, but the baby has left the house. She dances, eats, and communicates like only a little woman can. Her toddlerhood has begun to rear it's ugly head but I'm hoping to do it up right. You know..."unspare" the rod and "gratefulize" the child.

Here are some pictures from this past week. Jackson had fun making her a little royal bed, Libby had fun dressing her up, and she danced (whasup homey?) with Cash like crazy in the bathtub. (He was in the bath pics too but was naked and Cash's physique is not for the faint of heart.) I caught her reading books in her crib after nap. And I snuck a photo of her sleeping. I hate to seem like I'm bragging about my kids, so if you've made it this far, thanks for loving Penelope too!

Cheering in the Rain

2009-09-13T22:06:00.002-04:00

Last night we went to the Florida State/Jacksonville State football game. My parents were given tickets and my Dad wanted to take Jackson for his birthday (which is in 2 weeks). I agreed to go, even though I have been on a football game fast for quite some time. It was nice to return to my cheerleading roots and cheer on the Seminoles. They needed it, seeing as how they were losing pretty much the entire game. They managed to squeeze out a win, literally, because it was extremely wet; it rained the entire first half.

Our friends the Mitchell's and Walworth's were able to go as well, and we attended the Janek's long standing tailgate party and sat with them too. Jackson had a great time and I had de ja vu with my Dad as we used our trusty free and excellent parking space and walked into the game on the same path we walked on many times my freshman and sophomore years. Score!

F-L-O-R-I-D-A S-T-A-T-E....Florida State, Florida State, Florida State, WHOOOOOO! Go Seminoles!

Wife of the Year

2009-09-13T22:03:00.004-04:00

WIFE OF THE YEAR!

And with this terrible face, Julie Elizabeth Alley wins Wife of the Year. In this shot, Julie was yelling at her husband to put away her expensive camera because it was beginning to pour down rain. At the same time, Julie was trying to get on her rain jacket so as not to get completely drenched. Sorry, Jimmy. Thanks for asking me to bring the camera. And for carrying it for me. And for flirting with me at the game. I love you!

Home's Cool

2009-09-04T19:33:00.006-04:00

Well, I have survived the first week back of "Alley Home's Cool." I'm pretty pooped. But I need to share some pics from the week, especially of Cash's first day of preschool. The morning of his first day my mom called to wish him a good day. I called him to the phone: "Cash, there's someone on the phone for you!" Cash: "Is it Mrs. F.?" (his teacher) How cute that he thought his preschool teacher would call him an hour before school just to make sure he was on the ball. He sure was. He was Mr. Happy that's for sure.

That same morning he took his breakfast smoothie to his room and declared he was going to have "a drinking party." I sometimes write these things I don't want to forget down and also as fuel for the blog. I jotted down "a drinking party in my room" on an index card and put it next to the toaster, for I knew there would be other one liners that day. Later in the day Jackson found the card and sought me out to ask what it meant. (Anything involving the word "party" Jackson must be informed of.) I explained it to him and so he decided to find Cash and tell him he was ready to organize the "drinking party" in their room. So a sign was made for the door and Jackson gathered the necessary refreshments and cups. I was invited. (My first drinking party--YES!) I came in to the red solo cups and everything. I took a drink of my brew (H2O) and stood there with Jackson as we drank. I couldn't resist. I said, "So, come here often?" and he says, matter of factly, "Yeah. Cash has this party every day from (pauses to glance at the clock) 1:24 to about 1:40." So there you go. What better way to kick off your first days of homeschool than with a drinking party?

Sometimes people ask me how I get anything done with my older student when I have little ones running around. I don't really stress about it because I just think about all the other home school moms who have gone before me. I figure if they made it through somehow I can too. But it is definitely a challenge and causes many many many interruptions. Penelope spends most of the day doing this like this:

So, there you go. That's how I get things done. I allow my toddler to tattoo herself with markers. After Jackson, they've all done it. It's a rite of passage. She also eats them, though, which is unique to Penelope. I'm not going to analyze why this is. I've also been trying to get a shot of Penelope on top of the dog for a while. Our dog Bella lies around a lot and Penelope will go over to her and plop down right on top of her like she's a pillow and the dog doesn't even bat an eye. It's like nothing happened. She's a very tolerant dog and I think has a soft spot for Penelope because she's the same height and I do catch Penelope sharing her snacks with the dog sometimes.

Today I taught an art class for some home school friends of mine and we had fun and got dirty. I didn't get any pictures because it was too busy! Afterward Jackson made a movie with some of his buddies and this is how I caught him reviewing it later in the day. I think Jackson's current hairdo (he's begging us not to cut it) looks like Jim from The Office. That's what I said.

We wrapped up the week tonight when Libby got to get her first library card. I let them get it when they are in Kindergarten. She wrote her name on the back like a big girl and was so proud. She got a free bag and filled that thing up to where it was so heavy she could barely carry it. She reminded me of myself. You can only get 50 items, Libby!

And one last pic: Cash and Penelope--the new school. Stay out of trouble kids, and you just might learn something around here. If you're not down with the educational route, there will be a drinking party every afternoon...

Septomom vs. Dracula

2009-08-27T19:26:00.003-04:00

Well, today was one of those days that I feel the need to take a shower when it's over in an attempt to wash it all down the drain. It's only 7:27 and I'm already out, because Jimmy saw the need and put everyone to bed at 7:00. Thanks, babe.

This morning I watched a friend of mine's kids, three girls. So I had my time of being a mom of seven. It was fun and pretty uneventful. I realized what having a big family must be like when I was assembling turkey sandwiches en mass at 10:30 a.m. in anticipation of "the lunch rush". It's really great when the kids have friends over because they're not constantly asking me to be their playmate. And I can enjoy watching them. I really only felt a little like Octomom once when I had the fussy baby strapped to my chest while wiping a bottom. It was short lived and at least the poop was in the toilet.

Later after nap time the whole family went to the library and I was feeling pretty rough (coming down with a cold) and felt like I was shush-ing children left and right. Especially Cash who goes from quietly playing in the water fountain to reading to running around and screaming all in the space of three minutes while we are at the library. But this wonderful angelic woman said, after I had shushed someone, "I think their voices sound really cute. You're not bothering anyone." God bless this wonderful human being. They are cute. Above the decibel level for the library by my standards, but cute.

At dinner I hit a new level of chaos/misrule when Cash was walking around the kitchen twirling a string over his head like a lasso. Not a good idea, but even more so when he had found the string on the kitchen table fresh from the rotisserie chicken Jimmy was cutting up. It had been tying the legs together. And I wonder how my walls get so dirty so fast.

In the bath tonight there was high pitched screaming made by Libby and Cash as they were pretending with their toy fish. I tried to get their attention but to no avail. It's like I wasn't even in the room. Jimmy came in to see what was going on and I complained to him that I could say anything and they wouldn't hear me. I tried, "Hey, tomorrow we're going to Disney World" and miraculously they got quiet and said, "We are?" No kids, I just want to wash your hair!!

And finally, what put us over the top on the early bedtime...Cash fell in the hallway after getting out of the bath and not drying off enough. He cried pretty hard but I was busy in Libby's room behind him and just gave the perfunctory, "Cash, are you ok?" and left him lying there. (Hey, people fall down and cry all the time around here!) Libby walked up a few seconds later and said, "Mom, Cash is bleeding!" and I felt pretty bad and came around to help him. What I found was a three year old that looked a bit like Dracula after quite a feast. I mean, really, like more blood than I think I've ever bled at once (childbirth excluded). He was fine, just a bad busted lip. Bedtime for all! And that's when I hit the shower. Washed all that Septomom, Dracula, and chicken residue down the drain for the night. I start over tomorrow. And willingly. This is my life. And it's full of life. And I love it. It just makes my blog a little better to sound like I'm going a little crazy.

Sally Julie Raphael

2009-08-16T15:58:00.001-04:00

Today on the way to church Jackson asked me (again!) about the restaurant I went to last night. It's called Bella Bella and he's very interested in it because our dog's name is Bella. He wanted to know why we never go there to eat. I told him because it was "fancy" and it costs a lot of money. (That and because every eating establishment which we give the honor of serving us a meal, we leave them a small beach of crumbs, spilled drinks, and sticky tables while we are being really loud and impatient during the entire meal.) Last night he was very concerned because I was all "fancy". All I had done was take a shower, braid my hair, put on a cotton dress (with flip-flops) and was wearing a necklace. He wanted to know why I was getting so dressed up. I guess since my usual attire is jeans and a t-shirt, yoga pants, or paint clothes, I looked pretty good.

So anyway, he asked me again this morning about it. "Mom, does the chicken at Bella Bella have curls on it?" I asked him what he meant by curls. He said, "You know, like curls and lace on it, since it's fancy." I said no, and thought it was quite Amelia Bedelia-ish of him to think so. But really, if the restaurant is fancy, shouldn't the chicken come out wearing lace and curls? (Amelia Bedelia actually does "dress" the chicken in one of her books.)

Having this discussion about fancy restaurants and lacy chickens are just some of the things I have to talk about around here. Someone always seems to want to talk to me about what is going on with them, no matter how big or small the problem. I feel loved and appreciated, but lately I've felt pretty overwhelmed. I can't tell you how many times someone will be talking to me and someone else breaks in. Who am I, Sally Jesse Raphael? Is it the glasses? Because sometimes I feel like a talk show host.

On our panel today we have Libby and Cash. Libby feels hurt because Cash messed up her doll house and Cash seems unrepentant and aloof. Audience, let's welcome Libby and Cash!

Julie: Libby, can you tell me why you've come today?
Libby: Cash messed up my dollhouse!
Cash: It was an accident!
Libby: No it wasn't! He did it on purpose!
Julie: Cash, did you mess up Libby's dollhouse?
Cash: Don't spank me!
Julie: Let's bring in our expert, Jackson.
Jackson: Thanks for having me.
Julie: Jackson, did you see what happened?
Jackson: Yes, Cash pushed over Libby's dollhouse toys.
Julie: Cash, look at me. Cash...Cash...look in my eyes.
Cash: I won't do it anymore.
Julie: You need to tell Libby you're sorry...

And so it goes. My life is really just like a Jerry Springer episode without the mullets and microphones. I am a problem solver, an exploiter of people's mistakes, and I make a spectacle out of people's bad behavior in hopes to get... ratings? Well, it breaks down there, but I do feel sometimes like I need a microphone and cue cards to 1) be loud enough to be heard over the screams and frustration and 2) remember what I'm supposed to say that is patient, loving, Godly, yet still just and firm. Can I get some scripted mommy-isms to get me out of a bind? And while we're at it, how about an arsenal of good-loving-supportive wife comments to utter when I'm feeling overwhelmed by all my husbands crazy ideas? Thanks. Just drop them off at my trailer. I'll be hanging out at the food table, since I seem to not be able to get through the day anymore without chocolate.

Ooh, even now I hear a fight breaking out in the back of the house. Here I go. JER-RY, JER-Y, JULIE, JULIE...

Winning the War

2009-08-08T08:53:00.004-04:00

Sometimes I am afraid that one day my friends and family will realize they haven't heard from me lately and that I'm not answering any one's phone calls and they will come to my house only to find that me and my entire family have died of messiness. We will all be buried under a mound of toys, dishes, laundry, shoes, and books. They will pull me out last, only to find me breathing my last breaths, as I listlessly utter, "Clean up, clean up, everybody everywhere..."

Why is it so hard for me to accept the fact that there are six people living here and that we live here, thus we use things, make messes, and there is always putting away and cleaning up to be done. If my house was neat all the time, we wouldn't be living here. But does that mean that we can't put our shoes away when we take them off? Because I'm believing the impossible---I think we can!

I'm pretty tired of fighting this battle, if you haven't noticed. But we home makers are silent warriors, fighting the war of messiness and disorganization but determined, no matter how many battles we lose, to win the overall war. It is a thankless job with no recognition or praise for our work. Who's to see when we conquer and reorganize our linen closet? But we know. Somehow we can rest a little easier knowing the sheets and towels do not have control over us, but that we can still show them who is boss.

And to encourage all of you out there like me, just keep going. Keep preaching "a place for everything and everything in it's place" even if it only happens 10 percent of the time. Last night before bed Jackson was allowed to read books on my bed until bed time. When I came to bed, my bed was covered with various piles of books, adding up to 20. I was so happy to see my son enjoying books and so I did not mind cleaning up after him. THEN, he apologized this morning for leaving them on my bed in my way. THEN he told me he had organized them and that the "other" pile had the most books in it.

A small battle won by those who like to put things away. My son organized his books! Yes! So I am inspired to keep teaching cleanliness even though from my very spot at this computer I can see unidentified sludge on the floor, a dirty diaper wad, and enough dog hair to knit a sweater. I will march on! I will win the war against messiness! It will not dominate me! Now off I go to fight another day of messiness battles. Charge!

Warning: Fresh Paint

2009-08-02T20:27:00.003-04:00

Well, we've been doing major home improvement stuff this week and I'm really tired but wanted to get it down for posterity. We hung dry wall a couple weeks ago and this week finished it, primed, and painted our entire living room from floor to ceiling. Plus all the baseboards and molding. So everything has been in total upheaval... not totally out of the norm but still disconcerting and hard for the kids and even the dog. Plus, I kept finding little black dog hairs in my paint so she was not on my good list this week. All of us, dog included, did strange behavioral things because everything was just so crazy around here.

On Friday morning I found dog poop, complete with flies, on the deck. I did not touch it. I take care of the majority of the poop inside the house made by the children; I leave the outside and the dog to Jimmy. He also gets up with the dog in the middle of the night. It's actually kind of nice to be on the other side of "someone's crying (or barking) go take care of it." I refuse to get up for a dog. I have actual humans who need me here.

So then, later, we got home from swimming at a friend's house and I took off Penelope's suit and she said she had to go potty. I let her. She peed. Got a treat. Woo hoo big girl blah blah blah. She then comes to me a few minutes later (still naked I just hadn't gotten to her yet) and told me she pooped on the floor. I asked her to show it to me. She did. I cleaned this one up, after assigning Cash the job of making sure the dog did not go near it, as I knew she would probably either roll in it or eat it or stand next to it and pee. Luckily Cash did his job and it was just a normal clean-up job.

I have been so focused on painting and just wanting to get it done I've let a lot of things go and have ignored a lot of things that would usually cause alarm. This afternoon Jimmy found some unidentifiable substance on the ground that we thought might be vomit but it didn't really look like it, but we just couldn't tell. The only kid it could have been from would be Penelope so I called her over and asked her if she did it but her communication is not quite ready for this kind of exchange so I couldn't determine if was hers. All she smelled like was graham crackers. It didn't look like anything she'd eaten today, and she didn't have anything on her shirt or mouth, so...that leaves the dog? I still don't know who did it but I did actually get my nose down there and smell it (what was I thinking?) while holding my paint brush, then went right back to my painting and let Jimmy deal with that one. He does have a cleaning business and all.

All day today, Jackson was working on an elaborate drawing of "Jackson's World" in which Jimmy cleans and I cook. We work three days a week for $20 an hour. I am talking to Jackson about all this while painting. Asking him where he's getting the money for this lavish house. In a round about way, he basically said he prints his own money. And there is a rocket ship parked in his yard. It is tiring to keep up with all this while painting and making sure no one touches it. Later on, Libby peed her pants. Cash came in with his underwear on inside out. Are those the ones with a skid mark from earlier? I thought. Oh well I'm just not going to look. I just kept painting. Put on a video. Get your own drink, grab a cheese stick, I just kept rolling. I am glad to say I am done for a while and hopefully everything will get back to semi-normal and I can keep the house under control.

What am I saying? DO I EVER HAVE THE HOUSE UNDER CONTROL? No! But maybe my chaos will seem a little better with freshly painted walls and clean baseboards.

Preschool Camp

2009-07-24T22:33:00.004-04:00

For about two years now, I have referred to Libby and Cash as "the Preschoolers." I'm a bit nostalgic because when I start schooling again in the fall Libby will be in kindergarten so I won't be able to call them that anymore. Jimmy's dad had minor surgery earlier this week so Jimmy and Jackson went to see him down in Brandon and me and the rest of the kids dropped off at my mom's in Waldo since she is by herself while my dad is on a mission trip in Bolivia.

So this week has been like the Preschooler's last hurrah, since we've been really focused on them and doing things they like to do. I feel like I have gone to Preschool camp. It has included things like dancing, playing school, taking bubble baths, going to the pool, going to a museum, going to a playground, and generally having fun and being content just to play and pretend. When Cash got into the bubble bath today he just romped and rolled and said, "Happy, happy, happiness!" This sums up the Preschoolers.

Libby and Cash really are best friends and have also shared a bed these last few nights and play until they just can't stay awake anymore. Last night I checked on them before I went to bed and they were holding hands in their sleep. The preschoolers are like that. Arguing one minute and holding hands the next. Keeping you on your toes. Requiring much patience and determination to not allow them to take over the free world. I'm pretty sure I'm still in charge.

I've dubbed Penelope the "Preschooler in training" for she is doing all kinds of things such as going potty (when she wants to), sitting on a tall stool at the island to eat a snack, and running the other way when you call her name (total preschooler behavior). But she cannot graduate quite yet, for I can still muscle her into the stroller and she does after all, prefer her thumb and blanket to many preschool activities that are yet to come. I'm sure she'll be glad to take Libby's place and become a preschooler with Cash soon. He still needs a woman to keep him in line.

I love you Libby and Cash. You are the coolest preschoolers ever!