Home's Cool

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

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

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

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

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

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!

Pumped up volume

So, every year as a cheerleader I won the award for loudest voice. I swear those football players could hear me shouting through the megaphone as they lined up on the goal line on 4th down. I've always been proud of my loud voice. Until lately. My children have inherited many of my wonderful talents and abilities, and of course some not so wonderful. But it seems they have all inherited my loudness. And oh, how it has come back to haunt me. And hurt me. And my ears.

The thing about loudness is that no matter how hard you try to respond in a quiet calm and kind sounding voice, so as to be a good example to your child, it will not work on a three year old who is shouting or singing (or both) at the top of his lungs. He just cannot hear you unless you yell louder than him. You can try and wait him out, he has to take a breath at some point, right? But if you wait him out, by then you just can't think straight anymore and you're afraid for your own sanity. Like, seriously, if the noise level does not drop and drop soon, you just might go into your bedroom and not come out until everyone has run around and yelled long enough that they pass out. Who cares if they're pounding on your door or playing in their poop, I've just had enough of the noise.

I have to admit I've never used the "let's use our inside voices" cue. If I thought it would work I would. But that would mean absolutely nothing to our kids. Our volume is: Inside voice-- loud. Outside voice-- a little louder. Jimmy tries to carry on conversations with me while in the bathroom with the door closed, me at the sink, water running, trying to get someone a drink ("Mom, I'm thirsty I want..." "How do you ask" "May I have a drink" "Yes" "What Jimmy?" "I can't hear you" "Yes, I'm getting the drink" you get the picture) I mean, I don't know at what point I lost control of the volume knob but it has definitely taken over and lately we've soared to levels I didn't know existed. Like, higher than eleven. I literally have to clap my hands and say "Excuse me boys and girls" just so we can say a prayer before we eat.

It's pretty overwhelming. But, full of life. And whenever Jimmy or I commiserate about how we can't go out whenever we want, can't have a conversation between the hours of 7 and 7 without being interrupted, how we feel we are just guests at the Holiday Kid, I remind him. Remind him how badly we wanted kids and how miserable we would be right now if we were unable to conceive and have kids of our own. It's true. And I'm so thankful. But all the thankfulness in the world will not turn them down, although sometimes I wish it would. But most times I'm glad I have a noisy life. It makes the quiet times much more wonderful. So pump it up, kids. But if I go crazy, refer to paragraph two and don't say I didn't warn you.

Catching Up

Oh, where to begin? We are coming off a quite eventful two weeks or so. Jimmy has finished his job at the middle school and is already off on another business venture as I write. He is awaiting the prospect of another job and meanwhile we have enjoyed a small vacation.

Our trip to my hometown area included us working on my sister Susan's house in Merritt Island, FL. Their family is moving to Sugarland, TX in a couple of weeks so we helped them prep their home for sale. I got to take some pictures of her house which was fun. Jimmy took multiple trips to the Cocoa dump, which I'm sure involved some interesting characters. My mom cleaned like only the queen can, and was so committed I had to force her to leave the room for fear she would asphyxiate from all the bleach she was swimming in. My family stepped it up if I do say so myself. If you need to clean up your house and make it look good, we're the ones to call.

My other sister kept the cousins, all 10 of them, ranging in age from 1 to 15. They called it the "cousin party" and for two days they swam, played the Wii, and just had fun. After the work days we were able to go to the beach and play. The disadvantage to having a nice professional camera is that I will NOT take it to the beach (unless I'm hired to do so)...I don't want it to get ruined with sand/salt. My sister did have her camera so I'll hopefully get some pictures from her. So, the only vivid memory I have from the beach is when I took Cash to the port-o-potty and had to live my own personal nightmarish Slumdog Millionaire community toilet scene. Aaahh!

After my sister's we went to see our friends Jeremy and Darcy in Vero Beach, FL. They just had a new baby which I was able to hold to my heart's content and got to take some pictures of her too. We enjoyed watching all the kids play together...Libby called Madeleine her BBF (she meant BFF) and Jimmy was amazed when Nena, their three year old spoke to him in Spanish. The last morning we were there Nena woke me with the song "This is the Day" sung about six inches from my face. She sang the whole thing. Let us rejoice and be glad in it!

Whew. I'm trying to give the condensed version but it's hard. After Vero we went up to my parents house in Waldo to spend the 4th of July weekend with my entire family. This included multiple skiing and tubing events and the entertainment of watching our dog and Dad's dog (the sister black labs) jump into the lake at high and long distances. I have some pictures but am not going to get to them for a couple more days...

The day before the 4th we drove to Itchutuckne Springs and floated down the springs, all 15 of us. (My mom stayed home with the little ones--the only kid I had to keep track of was Jackson.) I got really cold and was a bit delirious and really hungry and thirsty when we got out of the spring. Waiting for the tram to take us back to our cars, it appeared we would not fit and would have to wait for the next one. This was not okay with me. I was determined to squeeze on so I said, "Come on! We can fit!" and squeezed between Jimmy and my Dad on the last two seats left. I thought others from our family had gotten on. As we were driving away I heard my sister yell (from the line) "We've got Jackson!" and at that point I realized that I had not given even half a thought as to where he was or whether or not he was on or off or even with an adult. I felt like the worst mom ever! It was the cold! It made me temporarily selfish and pushy!

The vacation culminated with us bringing home our dog finally and feeling pretty bad about tearing her away from her sister and also my dad who had pretty much become her master. She's been having a blast at the lake swimming and jumping and now she's in our craziness here...seems to wonder if things ever slow down around here. Well, they don't. But she's gotten a lot of love from our kids and Jimmy and I pet her...well, occasionally. It's not that I don't like her, I'm just trying to get used to having another reason to wash my hands. They're getting all chapped and raw again. Yesterday morning I shoveled poop twice, wiped Cash's booty, and changed Penelope's diaper all within the space of 45 minutes. I'm going to buy stock in anti-bacterial soap.

So that's it for now. I'm going to try to get to my pictures soon!

The Heat is ON

You know it's hot when you break into a sweat just stepping outside to take out the trash. We have slipped into full summer mode here in the Tallahassee. I'm trying to deny that the heat has reared it's ugly head but it has and it's given meaning to the very expression "ugly head". I've been doing morning VBS with the kids this week so when we get back at 12:30 I literally vow not to leave the haven of air conditioning for the rest of the day. I've considered trying to pretend it doesn't exist and become a hermit for the next three months, not even venturing out to the grocery stores...living on whatever I can find in the depths of my pantry and freezer. (Don't think I haven't considered trying this on many occasions...not just when it's hot...trips to the grocery store can get pretty dreadful.) And then I think about how the heat will still win the war because my electric bill will surely show the constant AC use. But then...

My inner cheerleader steps in and chides me for being such a whimp*. Be aggressive! B-E Aggressive! B-E A-G-G-R...well, I can't type all that out, that's just a little too aggressive. Anyway, my inner voice says, "Julie, stop being such a whiner! Think about the Tallahassee Indians! (I don't know exactly what they're called but I'm too hot to look it up) They settled here so that you could one day enjoy living in such a beautiful town! They did not have air conditioning! And they had to kill their food! And plant seeds and weave stuff!" And then I think how fortunate that I didn't live then because I would not want to go around half naked with a baby hanging off my boob. Do you see what the heat does to me? It makes me crazy in the head!

And let me tell you something else. I think another reason it makes me crazy is because it doesn't get dark until like 9:30. When you've been with crazy kids in the heat all day you just want the cover of darkness. Please, can we just get a little Truman Show action around here and have the sun set at the bedtime of the Alley's house? However early that might be? Because I don't need daylight after bedtime. It's not like I'm going anywhere. It's not like I want to anyway since I become a hot mess of mosquito bites if I step out onto the front porch for more than like five seconds. Here I go complaining again. Where's my inner cheerleader now to stop my whining? Oh wait, she must have forgot her water bottle and passed out from heat exhaustion. Funny, her outfit looks very similar to those in my Native American daydreams.

I stand by my spelling of whimp. Spell check wants me to spell it w-i-m-p. But if whimper is spelled with an h, don't you think whimp should be too? If the word ginormous can be put into the dictionary, I can spell whimp however I want.

Happy 5th Bday Libby!

So, Libby turned 5 today and we had quite the outing to the mall so she could spend $10 of birthday money from my grandmother at Build-A-Bear Workshop. (She has been waiting days to give her bear a bath because she touched some mac n cheese a few weeks ago.) Then on to Chick-Fil-A where Libby got to get a shake to share with her brothers. The day started out though with Jackson impaling the side of his ankle with a toothpick. I was standing at the sink and he was just walking behind me and suddenly screamed in pain and I looked down to see quite a large line of blood pouring down his foot. I finished what I was doing (because blood, of course, has become no reason for alarm unless it is shooting across the room from someones jugular or in the near vicinity of my semi-new couch) and bent down to ask him what happened. He said a toothpick went into his foot. Like, he was just walking across the kitchen and a random toothpick on the floor assaulted him. I don't know how it could have happened but I believe him and plan to keep a closer eye on my toothpicks. After just watching part of Transformers with Jimmy I am wondering if maybe my toothpicks are robotic. Meanwhile, Jackson has quite the puncture wound and wouldn't put any weight on his foot when we got back from the mall. Where was my phone answerer and personal assistant? Jackson was asking me to get things for him. Whoa, buddy, not so fast.

The picture at the top is from this past weekend when we had a small party with my parents and sister's family. (I made a chocolate cake for the first time and I think it probably weighed more than Libby) The below pictures are lessons in self-control. My nephew Lincoln obviously wanted to help Libby blow out her candles but knew he may not be able to trust himself to refrain from helping so he went with the hands over your mouth technique. Libby also knew she had to wait until the song was over so went with the same technique to wait it out. I should have implemented the same technique at nap time today when I said in a not so nice voice to Libby, "I don't care if it's your birthday, I will spank your bottom if you scream again!" Note to self: If you get upset at your kids, place hands over mouth and sing Happy Birthday until your horns retract and your eyes go back into your head. Otherwise, you will look like Optimus Mom and your children will writhe in fear. Well, then. Happy Birthday Libby!

Thanks to my bro-in-law Willie for capturing this!

One, Three, Five, Seven

Libby's 5th birthday is this week. When she turns five, I'll be into the three months out of the year when my kids are two years apart in age. So I'll have a 1, 3, 5, and 7 year old. This is what these odd numbers are like these days...

1... (19 months)
Penelope is definitely not getting any dumber, uglier, or slower. Quite the opposite. She is making her way as a smart, mothering little girl who uses her cuteness to change any harsh looks directed her way. She loves to be sung to (her faves are Bob the Builder and Jesus loves me) and to snuggle with her blankets. Last week she picked and ate her own blackberries adjacent to the park we go to a lot. She was so cute nestled into a bush just picking and eating away. And that night I was amazed again at small kids colon activity when I was given her own recipe of quite a few smooshed and whole blackberries in her diaper. So everything is quite on schedule with her. Oh, and she loves to run around the house naked which is always fun to watch.

3...
When I think about Cash these days I think about how he pees everywhere...in the yard, off the back deck into the yard, on the front tire of our van (he makes sure he gets it in the hole so he can see the steam come off whatever hot car part his pee is touching). And after he sits on the potty inside, he runs around naked too. Lots of nakedness from Cash. He can ppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppp,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,p ,puieasxd Oh, he can do the above--he typed this while I was away from the computer for a few minutes. This pretty much sums it up. Mischievous and sneaky. Oh, and he seems to say everything as if he is speaking through clenched teeth. Like, "Doh do dat Wibby!"/ that was him. / He thinks it's hil4larious. Typing numbe1rs 0while I'm at the computer. So funny, Cash.

5...
Libby has become quite the bookworm. She has begun reading at an early age and reads whatever she can get her hands on. Today I was reading out loud to her and she began reading another book simultaneously and I had to stop her so I wouldn't be wasting my time. Although, honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if she could listen to a story and read a story at the same time. She is pretty with it. And very imaginative. She is always telling me stories and explaining drawings and I feel like a dummy because on a scale of one to ten she makes me feel like my imagination is a 2. And the only problems I have with her losing her temper and being unkind is when Cash won't pretend the way she wants. A few days ago she whacked him with a mirror because he wasn't doing the right thing with a plastic dog. Heaven forbid he places the dog on the wrong pretend bed. Don't get in the way of Libby's imagination or you will pay!

7...
Ah, Jackson. Where to begin? He's Jackson. Full of life. To the brim. Questions galore and random facial expressions by the thousands. And fun to be with. I was doing dishes the other day and he walked up with a big folder and started fanning me with it, chanting, "You're the royal queen..." Last week he asked me if I had any ideas of how he could get to Hollywood? He said we could keep in touch by Facebook, Gtalk, letters, phone, and email. When I asked him why he wanted to go to Hollywood he said, "Because they treat you really nice, there's lots of fun things to do, and they have really good food." One night last week, I came in his bedroom to tuck him in and he was waiting for me, standing in a chair in his underwear, arms stretched over his head, and as soon as I came in he yelled, "I'm startastic!" I have no idea what he thinks this means, but that's exactly what Jackson is. Startastic.

Tubing

This weekend we were out of town (again!) to my parents because my sis and family were there and we do not often miss an opportunity to hang with cousins. Jackson and my sister's three boys had quite a few crazy tube rides from their Pop-Pop. I went once with the camera to try and get a few pictures. It is not easy, as the boat is bumping like crazy too and trying to keep the camera from giving me a black eye was my main concern. Libby and I even went on a girly, no big bumps, slow tube ride. I like to go on crazy rides too, it's just hard for me to put myself in the hands of my dad behind the wheel of a ski boat. I've lost my innocence and tend to think of the ibuprofen I'll be downing in the morning. I totally trust my dad to take care of me, but he usually has quite a bit of fun throwing me around first. But it really is a lot of fun.

A Dog for the J Train

This weekend we went to stay with my parents and proceeded with our plan to have this coming week to work on home improvement projects by sending the boys with Jimmy's parents to Brandon and leaving the girls at my parents house in Waldo. Everything was proceeding well when something I never thought would happen happened.

There is this thing about being a Christian. You sometimes feel called to things and have no idea why. This is what happened to me this weekend. Just yesterday, actually. We got a dog. It just sort of happened and for some reason I feel totally okay with it. I'm still wondering if I was possessed by the ghost of a dog-lover or something because I have no idea why I wanted this dog, but like I said, sometimes you feel like you're supposed to do something and it's just not something you ever thought you would do.

So we have this dog, she is a black lab named Bella. She is nine months old, so still a puppy but not a newbie. My Dad helped us get her--it was a man from his church who asked if he knew anyone who would like two black lab pups. Dad said "No" and then a matter of hours later we went and picked them up. Dad's going to keep the other one, her name is Abigail. He may and try to find a home for her, but she's already pretty attached to him.

Last night I laid in bed thinking, basically, "What was I thinking?!" and also things like: Will my house get really gross? Will I be able to teach her to obey? Will I smell like a dog? Will I be able to resist the urge to wash my hands every five minutes? Are we stupid to take on an extra expense? Am I even a dog person? Why, God? Well, I'm going to find out.

After getting her, we had to decide whether or not to keep the already made appointment to get her baby maker turned off. So here I can't even make this decision for good in my own life, and now I have to decide it for my dog which I've only had for a few hours. I just always wanted to see a dog have puppies, and I also just really love pregnancy. Anyway, with the voice of Bob Barker in my head, we decided to control the pet population and she will be getting fixed on Wednesday. The appointment was close to where my parents live so both dogs will be with my parents this week and will have their motherly fates decided together. We will get to bring her home next weekend.

So there it is. Just when I don't think I have any news to post on the blog...we get a dog. It really is a pretty crazy ride around here.

That makes Jesus happy

I've been away from the blog due to more home renovations and company and just general craziness this week which culminated in a horrible restaurant experience tonight that I can easily sum up with the following nursery rhyme:

There was an old woman who lived in a shoe
She had so many children she didn't know what to do
She gave them some broth without any bread
She whipped them all soundly
and put them to bed

I'll leave out the details, for fear that someone from the Department of Children and Families reads my blog...I've always thought there is quite a bit of wisdom in this so tonight Jimmy and I lined everyone up on the couch and well, you know...

Things can get pretty busy around here and there is always something to do. I try to play with the kids when they ask, but it's really hard sometimes to want to sit down on the floor and drive cars around when you have absolutely no brain cells left to devote to using your imagination. Earlier this week I literally fell asleep sitting on the floor "playing." (I put it in quotes because I was obviously not doing much playing.) Yet sometimes, you get a payoff. I don't ever want to forget what Cash said today when I agreed to play Little People with him.

We were playing with a castle and king, queen, etc. Cash, playing the king, said he had to tell everyone something. So he climbs him up to the top of the castle and stands out over his lowly subjects, played by me. He made the king say, "I need you to go to Disney World with me! Do you hear me?!" And I laughed and said, "Okay, king." He began to climb down and as he was doing so he said, "Because that makes Jesus happy!"

If only I could just get down on the floor and play with them more often. Because I think that makes Jesus happy.

Penelope

Penelope is now 18 months and I try not to freak out daily about the fact that my baby is growing up and forcing me down the exit ramp off the freeway of babyhood. It's a crazy bumpy fast-paced ride full of accidents and many tears so you'd think I'd be happy to get off but I'm not. I'm trying to remember the feeling of a baby kicking inside me and a newborn sleeping on my chest...

I like to remember those things, and it's good to do so because then I also remember things like nausea, waddling, spit up down my shirt, sore nipples, night time feedings, and the general greasiness you feel 65% of the time when you have a new baby. So even though all those things are totally worth it, I'm trying to see myself as in the pay off stage. Like, I had the baby, trained her well, now I'm enjoying my adventurous 18 month old who will still snuggle with me whenever I need it.

I snapped this picture of Penelope a couple weeks ago. I didn't catch her like this, she climbed in face first and I caught her in there with her back towards me. So I grabbed the camera and turned her around so I could remember just how cute and little and playful my baby girl is.

I have always tried to capture the cuteness of my kids in the bath...little kids are SO cute wet all over. But I've never really been able to do it to satisfy myself. I threw caution to the wind and got way too close to water with my expensive camera but was able to get a 1...2...3... of Penelope that I think will remind me of her preciousness one day. It is special to be the baby. We're all crazy about her. I'm glad I'm getting this down now, because yesterday and today she started walking around the house yelling, "Maaa! Maaa!" I'm sure this is going to get old real quick but for now I'm scooping her up and loving her with fury.

Finally, today I took pictures of Cash for his "3 year old" photo shoot. I'm only a month late, that's pretty impressive. I put some pictures on my photography blog, but here's one I left off the "professional" site. It happened in the middle of the session...he had to pee so he dropped his drawers right there in the yard. Love it.

Mid-Circle

Yesterday I caught Penelope eating some sidewalk chalk outside on the back deck. Actually, I didn't catch her, she confessed. She stuck her head in the door and held it out with a big smile and blue flecks of it in her teeth. I told her how gross it was and rushed her to the sink to wash her mouth out. It was really my fault for leaving it in her reach.

As I was washing her mouth out, I thought of my dad. He once washed chalk out of someones mouth too. His mother. My granny. That one was my fault too. Catching Penelope with the chalk reminded me of the time in college when I glanced into the den where my granny was resting only to discover her chomping away on my chalk pastels, which I had left in a little plastic bowl by the recliner. Horrified, I said, "Granny's eating my pastels!" and Dad had to go in there and explain to her that they were NOT food and then take her to the bathroom to get all the chalky goodness out of her dentures. I didn't watch this part. I felt too bad and really too grossed out.

So when I washed out Penelope's mouth I thought of Dad doing the same for his elderly mother and realized it was just a whole new spin on the circle of life. As a baby and a child you do stupid stuff and don't even realize it. Someone has to tell you that's just not the way things work. And then you get older and start to do really dumb things all over again. But there are quite a few years in between when you might actually get it right. This encouraged me since I am quickly approaching middle age. I might not be young and cool but, at least I don't eat chalk, right? There is something to be said to have a little life experience. The somewhat discouraging thing is, though, that one day when I'm 80 plus and sitting around in my recliner I might reach over and bite into something inedible. But I'm encouraged. To enjoy middle age. Not young and stupid, not old and stupid. The stupid things I do are totally with my consent. I can choose to be stupid! I have control over my stupidity! Let's hear it for the un-young yet un-old! We rule the world. We stop others from choking on artist's mediums!

OHH we're halfway there

I was raised in a Baptist church, as was Jimmy. We both were there whenever the doors were open. When we first met we were amazed at how similar our upbringings were, and how much we had in common. So how in the world did we turn out so different!? And what does this mean for our children? Are they destined for a life of confusion? Or will they take sides? Will their brains explode from the crazy stimulation of it all? Only time will tell.

Jimmy loves rock music. Pop rock, heavy metal, punk, rock and roll...it is all on his iPod and all up in my space in the car. I, on a regular basis, must deal with Jackson screaming questions from the back seat of the van, Cash yelling about something he sees out the window, Penelope crying, Jimmy asking me which way to turn, AND Stryper screaming very NON Christian sounds into my ears. It is sometimes more than I can take which is why I often plug my ears, rock back and forth and hum a drone to try and block out the noise which is my life. (This usually gets Jimmy to turn it down because I look extremely Special Ed and it freaks him out.)

On the positive side, Jimmy exposed me to all kinds of wonderful music I had never heard before. When I met him I was a 90's CCM girl. Michael W., Steven Curtis, Jars, DC Talk... I'm pretty sure I had only listened to the Beatles when I saw the famous Ed Sullivan clip on TV every once in a while. When God gave me Jimmy, he gave me music in more ways than one. I always wondered what this meant for our children. Would I let them listen to secular music? Was sacred music really all that sacred anyway? I could write forever about this, but the conclusion I came to is that I wanted them to hear good songs and good songwriting. So no bad content of course, but a song about all of us living in a yellow submarine is actually pretty fun with your kids.

Well, today I got a piece of what they like. Jackson made a table (he had just had to read a table and a graph on a math worksheet) to record everyone's favorite band. I come across a lot of worksheets that require the student to "ask the class" and since Jackson can't do this I was wondering how he would work it out. He ended up asking stuffed animals and such but he started out asking Libby. I listened closely. The conversation went like this:

Jax: Which is your favorite band? Newsboys, Relient K, Bon Jovi, Boston, Green Day, or Jars of Clay?
Libby: Bon Jovi! Bon Jovi! Bon Jovi!
Jax: No, you have to pick Newsboys! You only know like one Bon Jovi song!
Libby: No, I know two! Shot through the Heart and Living on a Prayer!

I just stood there for a minute wondering if my 4 1/2 year old did just in fact name two Bon Jovi songs. I didn't even know who Bon Jovi was until like 2003. Yeah, I had heard their songs but I didn't know who sang them. Anyway, it just goes to show you that your kids can learn and remember anything. But do they learn anything I actually teach them? Or do they just absorb iTunes and loud music in the van? Score one for Jimmy. Hey, at least I'm the one who taught Jackson how to make a table and use tally marks. Whew. Next week, kids: Have a Nice Day and Wanted: Dead or Alive. (the only other two Bon Jovi songs I can think of...)

Easter days

This is Jackson speaking I will be your blogger host today SO DON'T BE SURPRISED. We were out of town since Wednesday through Sunday as you can see we were visiting my cuisines plus Julie's parents. Sorry we missed the party at the Kagy's, but I had fun of my own down by the lake like...we had our own Easter egg hunt so now my Easter basket is full of lemon heads. And I went sailing which was fun because we almost tipped over, and I can jump off the dog house on to the disk swing now. So you can see I had F-U-N. So here are some pics...

Well, that was Jackson. I'm not sure I can do much better. He has been dying to be allowed to blog so I told him he could if he wrote the entire thing out on paper first. And I was going to type it for him but he insisted he do it. After that, I had to teach him what spell check was and go over proper noun capitalization and such and just realized that the spell check did not catch the word "cousins" because he spelled it like "cuisines". So learning to spell is important people or you might turn in your next job application referencing your favorite cousin and your prospective employer will think you're talking about food. Anyway...

Yesterday we started back into schooling after being off for a two week Spring Break...there was just too much going on and I was feeling sorta guilty about it until we arrived at my parents house and not an hour later my son is catching fish and then cutting them open to find all kinds of boy-loved things such as the heart and "poop sack." This is NOT something you get at school people, and it's not even something you get at the Alley's home school. You have to go to your Pop-Pop's house on Spring Break to learn this science lesson. So there you have it. Not to mention sailing and just all around exploration with the cuisines. ;-)
Here are some pics of the fish guts and also the Easter egg hunt (right before we released them into the yard) where they hunted for 116 eggs. And also one of many pictures I got of Libby of her backside...she was running so fast!

And lastly I'd like to talk about the above picture. It totally illustrates the stages of child photography to me. None of my children wanted to take this picture. But you can see their behavior...the 7 1/2 year old stands still, gives as genuine a smile as possible when you're not really smiling on the inside, and knows that the sooner he conforms, the sooner he can go inside. The 4 1/2 year old decides to stand still and look at the camera but will not be happy about it and is not afraid to show it on her face. The 3 year old all of a sudden understands what this picture taking stuff is, and decides everyone should be posing in a certain way and does not realize that in making this effort he is actually NOT looking or smiling for the picture. And the 17 mo. old baby, well, she just wants to run around and cannot be made to be still no matter what you say, no matter what crazy sounds you make, or no matter what silly things you do to try and get her attention. So there you have it kids. This is why I have so very few pictures of you. I'm a realist. I want my pictures to be realistic and don't expect to get a picture where everyone is looking at me and looking there best. But for some reason, I still try. I ended up getting a decent picture when Jackson held Penelope but this is the one I liked the best after all. It shows the craziness of what I try to do every day: get everyone to pay attention to me when I am telling them something important. I get pretty much the same result. I'm outnumbered and no one seems to get it. But for some reason, I still try. Every day. I think it will be worth it when one day, someone hears something I say that is important and can apply it to their lives. Here's to all the Mom's out there living on a prayer. Keep trying.

Maisy Party

I have been away from the blog due to company and home renovations. My parents were here last week to help us continue the work on the wall we took out and my dad and Jimmy worked a ton. I am blessed with a father and husband who can easily work together and really get along. Things got kind of crazy at the end of the week because it rained a lot and the kids had a bit of cabin fever. What do I mean by cabin fever? Why do parents say that? What does it mean exactly? Well, for me it meant everyone started communicating at a screaming level and if someone tripped and fell down it was as if a nuclear explosion had gone off. But this was only temporary and wore off eventually. (Just like a fever? Is that where we get it?)

The day after my parents left, Jimmy's parents arrived and we able to spend a few days with us during their Spring Break. They were able to come to Cash's Birthday and just generally experience life with us, which gives me a bit of a break because that means there are other adults present to play games and read books with.

Today is Cash's actual birthday. He is three years old. When I reminded him of this last night, he said "I don't want to go to my party, Mom!" as if I was going to make him have another party other than the one we had on Saturday. It's not that he didn't enjoy it, I think he just knew that he'd had his allotment of sugar and excitement for at least a year.

The party last Saturday was a Maisy theme, since when I asked Cash who he wanted to come to his party he said, "Eddie the elephant, Charlie, Cyril, and Tallulah"-- who are Maisy the mouse's friends from the Maisy books by Lucy Cousins. Maisy and her friends just generally have a good time doing regular stuff, and always have fun together and get along. As I was looking through the pictures Jimmy and I took that day at the party, I was thinking about what good friends Cash has and how blessed he is to have cool buddies to party and play with. Just like Maisy! Everyone was really gracious to participate in all the games we planned and eat the food and enjoy each other. It was beautiful weather too, so all in all a wonderful birthday.

If you aren't familiar with Maisy, you can read a book here.

Here are some pictures from the day. Are your friends as cool as Cash's? Because they're pretty killer, yo.

Retraction?

So, I laid in bed last night regretting the fact that I used the words "muzzle" and "cage" in my last blog about my children. I have been wanting to put up some pictures and so I thought I would take this opportunity to make it clear that I LOVE my children, that I would NEVER muzzle them, and NEVER put them in a cage. Unless a baby gate counts. :-) Anyway, I always try not to brag about my kids too much here, because that gets old and because I'm biased. I try to relate the stories as I see them. But even in spite of their crazy loudness, I think they're the greatest kids in the world. Just so you know. Here are some pictures from the last few weeks. We have been enjoying Spring here, the perfect weather and the flowers.

Caterpillars, Walmart & Movies

I have a minute to catch up on some things because Libby and Cash are amusing themselves playing with caterpillars which keep falling from the oak trees and into our back yard. They carry them around and put them in the doll house we have..."Look Mom, the caterpillar is taking a bath...the caterpillar is getting dressed..." (as they close it into the drawers). At first I declared caterpillars must stay outside but they are having so much fun and leaving me alone so I figured a little caterpillar slime or poop or both never hurt anyone. In fact, if injested, it's probably the most vitamins they might get in one sitting.

In other health news, yesterday I discovered Penelope with two handfuls and one mouthful of Vicks Baby Vapor Rub. And I thought my grandmother was daring just rubbing it around and slightly inside her nostrils. Although the label said "do not put in mouth" it didn't say to call poison control if it actually did get in someone's mouth so I just tried to wipe her out with a baby wipe and forget it ever happened. But the smell on her reminded me for a while afterward.

Jackson has been amusing himself making movies on our computer and the kids have also discovered that our "Photo Booth" application can record short movies. So they sneak down here all the time and click record and just stare at themselves or say funny things. And then I discover them and say, "Guys, no computer right now...get down..." or the like and so now I have quite a few short clips of my cute children with their mother yelling at them in the background. Exactly what I want saved for posterity. This will be their memory of me. Telling them to stop being cute and creative. I can hear them as teenagers... "What was the big deal, Mom?" The big deal is, I'm afraid I'm going to come down here and discover caterpillar poop on my keyboard, you crazy people!

Two days ago we just said NO to the ghetto and took ourselves to the brand new Walmart Market/Pharmacy right down the street. Finally I won't have to drive three miles just to discover that they are out of the diapers I'm looking for. The new Walmart is miniature, it's so cute I want to pinch it's cheeks. I felt like I should be checked out by oompa-loompas or something, or take some kind of magic pill to shrink me so that I would be the right size to keep the same proportions I'm used to when I go to a Supercenter. Bottom line: if I get to the front and realize I forgot something, I might actually go and get it.

I browsed through all the movies they've made over the last week and while I hesitate to let the world see and hear my children like this, the distorted faces are pretty funny. Anyway, I'm now wondering if my scaled down Walmart has a pet department where I could buy muzzles and cages for them. I could just slip them a few caterpillars every day...

Daylight Savings Strangeness

I really hate the time change. (I'd like to propose we just split the difference and go forward 30 minutes and leave it there.) When you're a scheduled mom like me, it throws you off quite a bit. I decided I'd just go ahead and complain on the blog because all kinds of weird things have happened in the last few days and I've decided to blame it all on the time change. It hit me especially hard this spring since Jimmy had to work and I got everyone ready for church by myself and managed to arrive at church seven minutes early (quite a victory) only to discover I was really 53 minutes LATE. It really threw me off for the entire day.

I really didn't know what time it was for the rest of the day. I'm usually the time change nazi and am the one running around the night before saying "Go to bed, it's really an hour later!" and have gone so far as to move my schedule ahead (or behind) 30 minutes the week before so the adjustment is not as hard.

Weird things have been happening. Sunday was a huge blur and ended with me serving a dinner that will definitely win me Mom of the Year: drumroll please... Hot Dogs and Waffles! Yes, I didn't even attempt anything healthy. Oh, well, I did throw some leftover peas on Penelope's tray. I didn't plan this...I didn't plan anything which is why we ended up eating junk. I think it will be my new time change menu from here on out.

Jimmy had been working all day Sunday, trying to clean a floor of the office building he cleans that was coated multiple times with old floor wax. What was going to be a few hours of work for him ended up in him bending over the floor peeling wax off (kind of like when you start peeling old paint and can't stop because it's addicting and once you start you can't stop) for eight hours.

Then, on Monday, Jimmy was out meeting someone about the floor and I'm trying to fix a real dinner (after the time change meal I had to redeem myself) and eat quick before leaving for worship team rehearsal. I turn on the oven and place the casserole dish inside only to a few minutes later have my house fill with smoke and the smell of wax because someone oh so lovingly placed a crayon in my oven! What is it with my children and the proper usage of writing utensils!? Did I or did I not graduate from art school?

After my worship team rehearsal we called in friends to baby sit and I peeled wax and helped Jimmy clean for over three hours. Talk about deviating from my normal schedule. And on time change week! I must be insane. I WILL relinquish control and "be flexible" and "go with the flow" as I preach to my kids all the time.

Today I walked around with a blob of poop on my shirt for like an hour, wondering why I kept smelling it. Later, at 5:15 I looked at my watch and it said 3:15. I have NO idea how this happened. I had already fixed my watch. It's just trying to mess me up even more! Then, tonight I'm home alone with sleeping children and all is quiet and I hear something on my back deck. I try to ignore it and not get freaked out but I decide to scope it out only to see a big possum messing around with a plastic bucket. STAY AWAY you big rat! Or I'll serve you hot dogs and waffles, fling poop on you, take you to church really late and then force you to inhale burnt crayon smoke! We'll see if you ever come back to my house!

"if You!"

Every morning when the kids wake up they have strict instructions to stay in their bed until 7:00 a.m. I allow them to get up and use the bathroom (don't think I haven't considered placing a chamber pot by their beds) but they must return to their room and stay quiet until the clock reaches that magic time. You would think this would be simple enough for them to understand and even easier for me to enforce. This is not the case. There are all kinds of special cases (for example, I ask Libby to NOT return to her room if she has to use the potty, she must rest on the couch so she will not disturb Penelope) and I am way too sleepy to really discipline anyone fairly--I just turn into grumpy irrational evil bed head mommy all too quickly. So all kinds of addendums (I don't know the word but this is the best I can do---I'm trying to write this before Dragon Tales is over) have been made to this "stay in bed" rule and I can't keep up. Like, if anyone ends up resting on the couch to wait until 7:00, they end up turning on the light because they can't see the clock if they don't. And the lack of darkness leads to you guessed it, foolishness and mayhem, which leads to noise, which leads to me emerging from the bedroom grumpy, irrational, etc. (And don't think I don't realize that if I was super Mom I would just get my rear end out of bed at 7. Or better, get up even earlier and put on make-up, have a super spiritual quiet time, and fix a 3 course breakfast. In my dreams.) I have solved this problem usually by just letting them watch 30 minutes of television in the mornings.

But during the school year, they are not allowed to do this on school days. I just don't want to use up my valuable "screen time" (I mentally allow myself so much before I feel guilty) so I have started giving them work to do in the mornings instead. Often Jackson just reads quietly so that is awesome. Even Libby has begun to be able to do this. But they also want a snack and have been allowed to get dry cereal, but then this has led to chocolate chips and other not so good for a morning snack choices. All of this does have a point.

Last night I left them actual work to do, along with an educational toy for Cash. I wrote Jackson a note and told him to help Libby with her work. I was pretty sure she would need help understanding the directions. It was a worksheet. I also left her a complete the sentence and draw a picture to go with it. Jackson used to do them all the time so I figured he'd tell her what to do.

Lots to keep them busy so I can sleep an extra 15-30 minutes. I even left them healthy rice cakes for a snack. Well, when I awoke at 6:54 to hear fighting and screaming I was not happy. I used all the patience I could muster, did not beat anyone or even yell but I made it clear they were to get on the couch and be quiet.

When I got up and looked at Libby's work, it was a total illustration of why I should just get up and help them (or leave them work that doesn't need explaining!). We are talking about the letter "Y" this week. I left Libby a sentence to complete: "Yellow yaks yell if you..." and she's supposed to finish the sentence and draw a picture. I couldn't believe what she came up with. She just copied my partial sentence and then drew a picture of two yaks yelling, "if you!" at each other. I will try to take a picture of it. I didn't know Yellow Yaks liked to cuss. Maybe they did so because of the crazy morning they were forced to encounter at our house...