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...

Public(x)

Around here Thursday is library day. This means that we go to the library every Thursday. You see, our county checks out videos for one week. Books for three weeks. So this means I have things due every Thursday. I try to never (ever!) check things out on another day of the week, thus making it more complicated for my brain and body to get things back on time. I check the status of my account on the computer before I go, make sure I load up everything that's due, and so it goes every week. (Ever since I racked up $26 of fines while in the hospital when Libby was born, I'm quite careful.) Jimmy likes to go too, so many times we head out after dinner. You would think I'd go alone or just with Jackson, so as to accomplish much more without breaking any decibel barriers, but that's just not how we roll.

Tonight I felt as if I was officially a home school parent when I attached only one seat into my double stroller and filled the rest of it up with books. I usually have a list of things I'm looking for in addition to just getting fun books for the kids to read. It's quite an ordeal, keeping up with four kids, and keeping my mind enough to remember the alphabet so I can locate books. I am going through the alphabet in my head...COR...COS...shushing children...COT...eyeballing everyone..."No, don't pull out any books"...COTH...here it is... It is a crazy process and I don't know how I haven't been kicked out of numerous library branches. I should be banned from the county library system but hey, it's public.

And public it is. Tonight we had to endure a group of teenage boys sitting in the children's area using words that should not be said in the children's area. I don't like to think of the germs we are exposing ourselves to...but aren't library germs more educational or something?? And tonight I had to pick up a DVD and the attendant (whose nationality I will not disclose) seemed to barely speak english and I had to write down what I was looking for. When I was standing in line I was all of a sudden burning up and just felt generally nauseaus. I looked at my watch. 7:15. Like clockwork. I have some sort of 12 hour "maximum time alloted to be a mom" because once I hit this limit I am a time bomb. My patience and energy begins to lessen at an amazingly fast rate.

So we finish the library but our day is not done. We need milk. Have to go to Publix. As we pull into the parking lot I tell Jimmy, "I could just go in..." but I need not finish. He likes to go in too. We all go in. That's how we roll. Taking Tallahassee by storm one errand at a time. So it's more of the same. Trying to use my brain power to figure out which is cheapest, remember what we need, all the while counting heads and uttering words that just come out like I'm a robot..."Stay by the cart"..."Come back"..."Walk with mommy"..."Watch out!"...

We get to the checkout and all of a sudden I'm done. I'm hot, still nauseaus, but can't remove my sweatshirt jacket because underneath is an embarrassing piece of "mommy" clothing I refuse to completely reveal in public(x). I have no more patience or energy. It has gone. Jimmy takes the kids to the car. I have Penelope but she is still small enough to be contained and/or distracted. I think she tried to eat a plastic bag but I didn't care. I revived enough on the ride home to gather enough energy to help get everyone to bed. And even though my brain and body are tired, I took a shower to wash off all my public germs and have now recorded our library day experience for posterity. Whew. I'm going to do my best to do nothing for the rest of the day. I'm ALL DONE! (I'm doing the sign language in my head.)

Brain Lotion

Tonight Libby tried to sell me some brain lotion. Penelope (who has been playing babies lately...so cute) was putting some pretend lotion on her baby and I noticed and praised her for it. Libby said, "That's brain lotion. You put it on your brain and it makes your brain feel good." I said, "Oh, I'd like some of that," thinking the pretending would end there. But she then went on to tell me the different parts of your body you can put it on (I had begun changing and dressing Penelope and wasn't paying much attention) and asked me if I wanted some. Snapping out of it and realizing she had been talking to me, I bent over and closed my eyes and asked for my brain lotion. She pretended to pump it sort of over the top of my glasses so it would go into my eyes saying, "If you put it in your eyes it gets to your brain faster because your eyes are close to your brain." I think she must use the lotion a lot because I think her brain works a lot better than mine sometimes.

So here I sit, typing a blog, hoping it will relieve the pain in my own brain. We just got back from a trip so I'm coming off of four plus hours in the car. I am going to share some pictures of our weekend in Brandon with Jimmy's family. His brother Gary and wife Sharon live in Israel so their once a year visit is special and especially so this year because they brought their new baby Sa'ar this time. I am Aunt Julie again and he made it as sweet as it could possibly be with his big smiles and soft round baby head. We helped to throw Judy, Jimmy's mom, a 60th birthday party and also met Sharon's sister, Rachel, (who introduced us to the next coolest game ever) and her two children, so that meant lots of kids and company on the premises at all times. But also lots of fun and excitement. Welcome to America, Sa'ar! Happy Birthday, Judy! We got you both gifts--Brain Lotion! If it existed, that would have been a great idea. A smart baby and some extra help for the aged. Just kidding. Neither of them need it.
Cash and Shaya with their painted faces.
Libby had a great time holding Sa'ar.Here is Judy blowing out her last candle. The 60th on one of 60 cupcakes in the shape of a 60.The Alley grandkids. Complete with leftover face paint.Here is our new nephew. He is just as squeezable as he appears to be.

Somebody's got the blues

I couldn't resist taking Penelope's picture this morning after I discovered her sucking on a blue Crayola marker. She wasn't sad or upset, only became so after I took the marker away and abandoned her to go retrieve my camera. I also didn't realize how much she had sucked and ingested until this evening when I changed a diaper full of blue pee and blue poop. Like not just a little blue, as bright as the blue in this picture. I've had some interesting finds when I open up a diaper but I saw the blue through this one even before I opened it. I am going to resist the urge to make excuses about how it is possible for me to have left a marker on the floor in the reach of a baby, how I left her alone without checking on her for so long she was able to do this, and how it's just plain white trash to have a child that looks like this. I have no excuses. I was just cleaning up from breakfast, hiding in the kitchen, enjoying an uninterrupted piece of toast and being a good mommy and taking my vitamin. Sometimes these things happen. Sometimes more than not around here! Forgive me, Penelope!

Sans Offspring

As I sit typing this post, at 3:30 in the afternoon, I am HOME ALONE. Yes, it's true. My parents came to visit Sunday for two days and informed me Tuesday morning that they were going to take all 4 of my kids home with them. I did not complain. I have been plagued with a sore throat on and off (mostly on) for nearly three weeks now. It had gotten pretty bad and I was feeling really run down. So I packed them up and sent them on their way. No one complained. In fact, when they heard they were going to Nana and Pop-Pop's house without me, they were quite happy. I don't know what that says about my relationship to my kids, but I DON'T CARE. I am enjoying 48 hours to myself and though I miss them, have been able to accomplish a lot since their departure.

I have cleaned our bedroom, which is unfortunately a dumping ground for furniture, important papers, artwork, and home decor that doesn't have a place anywhere else in the house. It becomes the room where I put something I don't want the children to touch (and thus destroy) and close the door. Though I clean out the drawers pretty often, they are still over-flowing. Though we only sleep in there, the amount of dust I found could stuff a small pillow. And the mildew I discovered on the windows literally made me gasp. Our master bedroom holds nothing masterful at all and should be called "The Master(ed by Children) Bedroom."

I also accomplished what I was ordered by my mother to do, which was rest and eat. I stayed up only a little later than usual last night (reading a book, not working) and challenged myself to sleep as late as possible. I even restricted fluids so as not to have to get up and pee, thus ruining my chances of sleeping in. I don't like to sleep in, and even before children would get up by 8:30 or 9. I really didn't think I could do it, and when I awoke, did not open my eyes for quite a few minutes, telling myself it was probably only 8 a.m. and to go back to sleep. Because once I look at my watch, I begin calculating how many things I have to do and how long it's going to take and how I need to get started. But I caved, looked at my watch, and it said 9:55! Yes! I was amazed! I did it! I slept in! I was afraid that having children had ruined my abilities but it has not! And to make things even better, my throat wasn't even sore.

Needless to say I am thanking God for my parents who saw what I did not--that I really needed to rest and get better and be without my energy sucking, sanity stealing, calorie burning, germ filled children for a couple days. Hopefully my parents won't get too exhausted or sick themselves. And now I've spent enough time doing this. I've got much to do before the offspring are back on again!

The Homely Virus

Well, we're on like day 10 of some person in our family being sick. The whole "it takes a week for it to go around the whole family" is no exaggeration. It's not enough of one. It started with Jackson getting fever, then Libby had pink eye in both eyes, Cash is finally over his diarrhea (which included one episode of poop in his bed that was so disgusting I can't even make a joke about it) and Penelope has had a little of all these symptoms, including a rash. I have a sore throat. Jimmy, somehow, has escaped unscathed, although today feels pretty run down. For this recovering emetophobic (fear of vomit, yes it has a name) germ-a-phobe mommy, this whole viral plague has left me with bloody knuckles (from 24-7 hand washing) and living on a diet of Altoids and lip gloss. (Just exaggerating for effect, Mom. I'm eating.) I half-apologize for divulging this information. Who wants to know, right? But if I document this maybe I can offer up a little sympathy in a few decades to another young mommy like me who is SO OVER IT. Can you please get better!? Yes, they're awesome. Yes, I'm thankful for them. Yes, I am blessed. But sickly, whiny, feverish, smelly children are still sick, whiny, feverish, and smelly and it takes it's toll.

Last week, Jimmy was looking at a photo of the author on the back of a book Jackson was reading and said she was "homely." Jackson wanted to know what that meant and so I said, "Watch it, Jimmy. I'm homely. Jackson, a person who is homely is someone who doesn't fix themselves up because they're home a lot. So they don't wear make-up or nice clothes." I mean, I was only two days into the sickness at this point, but if anyone fits the definition of homely, it's me when everyone is sick and I can't leave the house nor want to. (I later looked up the definition to see if I was correct, and I did a pretty good job combining all definitions.) So the next day we went somewhere and when we pulled up I said, "Don't get out of the car yet, I'm going to finish putting on my make-up." (My make-up bag lives in the car...there are only four things in it, and I just put them on while driving on the way to wherever I'm going. I can barely be on time getting everyone else ready, and getting up earlier to apply make-up is NOT important to me.) Anyway, Jackson watched me finish up the mascara (it's hard to apply mascara while driving when you wear glasses and need your glasses just to see your speedometer) and as I put it away he said, rather enthusiastically, "Not homely anymore, Mom!" Yes, it's as if I have an alter ego. No one will know I'm the same person they saw walking to her mailbox in her pajamas with ratty hair and a snotty baby on her hip. Homely girl has left the house! And she's packing mascara! Look out, world.

So anyway, in the midst of all this, I am trying to potty train Cash. And miracle of miracles, he is doing REALLY WELL. Like, he's further along than either of my other two were at this age. I have had to change my reward system up a bit, though. He was totally working the system and squeezing out two or three drops or a tiny terd just to get candy. His entire life was peeing or pooping just enough to get candy. After six days of constant candy, he got what's going around and so I had to take him off all the sugar. So he was sick AND going through detox. It was quite a day. But now he is content with goldfish and Gatorade and is really having a lot of success. It's a Festivus miracle. Cash wins the "feats of strength." (If you haven't seen this Seinfeld episode, you have no idea what I'm talking about.) He amazes us with his ability to control his muscles. Not just sphincter muscles. All muscles. You go, Cash. As long as it's in the toilet.

P.S. I know it's incorrect, but I really like spelling terd with an "e". I think if you wipe up enough of them you should be allowed to spell it however you want.