Clink. Cough. Chomp. Slurp.

I don't know why. Maybe it's the way I was raised. But noises at the dinner table really bother me.

I seem to be the table warden of the family, telling the kids to

-take reasonable bites
-don't wipe your hands on your clothes
-excuse yourself to blow your nose
-don't pound your plate with a knife or fork
-don't slurp your drink
-take one bite of your food and then put the rest down (like with grilled cheese) instead of sitting there and picking bites off and playing with it
-say please instead of reaching across people and the table for something
-no singing
-no drawing
-no reading
-no tv
-no games
-no yelling
-don't spill....

Gosh, sounds like dinner at my place isn't fun.

The one thing that gets on Man's nerves is elbows on the table. And that's the one thing I'm always getting caught at. I guess it's only fair for me to get caught at something.

Not eating as a family is by far the exception and usually happens if a parent is sick or I'm making surprise dinner -- which means that even I'm surprised to find what I come up with that night. (this dinner is more common toward the end of the month. you'd be amazed what you can come up with involving a single chicken thigh, 3 different bags of frozen veggies with only 1/2 cup left in each, a handful of cheese, 4 different kinds of pasta, and your last cans of mushrooms and tomato paste) And yet we manage to struggle with some appalling prandial atrocities.

Oh well. At least they're statistically less likely to do drugs when they get older, right? Who cares about a slurp in the face of them odds?

Would you rather have it all at once?

I don't know if you can tell in this pic, but this poor child has the flu and pink eye. It started with Pebbles more than two weeks ago, moved on to the older kids, then me and Frieda, then Man, and now pink eye is doing reverse rounds back through the family. Would you rahter have everyone have all of it all at once, or spaced out like this over an entire month?

A Tagger

A: So, your birthday is coming up.
T: Yeah, that's ok.
A: What do you want for your birthday meals?
T: Macaroni and cheese.
A: Really? You can have anything you want and you want macaroni and cheese?
T: Yep, for lunch.
A: Ok, what do you want for dinner?
T: Leftovers.
A: [stunned] Really? Like what?
T: Do we have any leftover hoisin chicken?
A: No, but do you want me to make you new hoisin chicken?
T: No, what leftovers do we have?
A: Um, beans from soft taco night, maybe some rice... Are you sure you don't want pizza?
T: Oh, alright. That'd be ok.

And thus is begins. I don't know a single man who is easy to shop for and now my little stinker won't hardly give me any clues about his birthday meals.

Pebbles moment

Sometimes when the kids are taking their dear precious time walking down the hallway I'll walk behind them, lightly kicking their rear ends. Yes, annoying for sure but it gets the job done without me having to yell at them.

Anyway, the older ones will sometimes say "hey! stop kicking my butt!" (I should note that I'm the crude spouse. Many is the time I've heard a little chipmunk voice say "oh, cwap". It's all my fault. Man never even says things like "oh my goodness". His language is pure, and no he didn't ask me to explain this to you all. I'm just proud of him.)

Then there's Pebbles. When we change her diaper she likes to find her "butt-en-en", which is her version of "belly button."

So, imagine my surprise when I hear a little chipmunk yell out one day "dop kidding my butt-en-en!"

-sigh- I love baby talk.

A Tagger

We were watching Enchanted yesterday. There's one part where the wicked queen uses much light, evil incantations, and hand waving to open an elevator door.

T: Doesn't she know that she could have just pushed the button?

lol I'll make a practical young person out of him yet.

Count down counters

Such an interesting thing, count down counters. What's the point of them? I used to think about the relief I'd feel when a certain phase of my life would be over. In high school, that relief was real, relevant, and guaranteed -- each count down to Christmas break, summer break, end of semester and my time with a disliked teacher, and later on the countdown to graduation.

The thing is, as I've moved through life I've found that few count downs tell the truth. A count down to a due date for pregnancy is a joke, sometimes even if you're getting a c-section. I've managed to fudge every single due date I've had, even the planned ones. Then we had count downs to when Man would graduate college. None of them came to fruition. We've had countdowns to when we'd be moving only to have the date moved, sometimes at the last minute. We've had situations we didn't want to end or perpetuate but with no hope (or dread) of a real count down to let us know when to expect the change. We had a count down for how long we'd spend in our current location but (surprise!) it's been set back anywhere from 3 to 9 months, or maybe even longer.

I've looked with fascination upon countdowns for one friend who expected to come home from Iraq on a given day. The final minutes of his online counter came and went, and he was still there. My brother has a counter until his graduation (congrats, Romeo!!) but then he goes on to graduate school this fall (congrats, again, for getting in with flying colors!!) Someone else I know was engaged and there was a tentative countdown until marriage but that date was pushed back a couple of times until those plans simply evaporated.

I'm so impressed by people who have the raw determination to establish a count down and then make sure that it's honored. Of course there are some that are inexorable: New Year's Eve , the count down until Christmas morning, the time that ticks by when you're completing a test; or, in other words, the passage of time itself. (good luck trying to stall that one, unless you're Hiro Nakamura or maybe you'd give it a try if you were Tesla)

I have faith in the fact that those countdowns will eventually be realized. That passage of time, with a beginning and and end, will be fulfilled and time will still flow along afterward, to our relief and occasionally our chagrin. However, whatever has been accomplished during that scheduled allotment usually makes me smile. Did we do it this time? What stopped us or helped us along? Movies like to drag it out a bit, you know the ticking bomb that has one or two seconds left before detonating before Our Hero stops it. In truth, a perfect schedule we create for ourselves whether measured by days or years isn't terribly realistic. After all, depending on a perfect schedule means that you have to depend on the consistency and dependability of our fellow man. And I have yet to meet any mortal upon whom I'd depend to that degree.

Maybe what I'm learning is patience. Maybe what I'm learning is that a goal is not an end. Maybe I'm learning that relief is not all it's cracked up to be since it is inevitably followed by one thing or another that soils it after too short a time.

Anne Marie made a really good point in a recent blog entry. I'm sure I've heard a wise saying that ended up meaning "the journey is more important than the goal". Not that the goal or its accomplishment is insignificant. But it's all too easy to let the journey render the accomplishment of the goal a mere Pyrrhic victory.

And no one wants that.

So huzzah for today and what it may bring, and where it may lead us in the future.

(why do I type this post? because I need the reminding, too. Things 1 and 2 are still sick, I'm sleep deprived, and I need to get off my rear end and enjoy my day. it's gorgeous outside)

I don't remembering growing older...

...when did they?

How to do stuff

I like websites that show how to do stuff.

My latest fav:

Instructables.


Dinner tonight:

Costco has huge pork shoulders for a really great price. Right now I've got a smallish slab in the oven that has slow roasted with a rub on the outside consisting of a cinnamon-chipotle rub with added paprika, cumin, allspice, and coriander. It was misted with water a few times during its cooking. Tender and flavorful -- we'll serve with shredded cabbage, cheese, and salsa in soft tacos.

All the kids are dealing with one thing or another today. Tag is ill:

Frieda is upset with me for taking pictures of her instead of feeding her some more:


Pebbles is still getting over being sick all last week:
And Princess, though sick, has taken advantage of her day off by doing her hair over and over:



Not a bad day, over all.

New chore system and dinner

Part ?? in a series: Figuring this stinking homemaking stuff out.

I have a real problem with schedules. We have a couple of semi routines which usually end up being batches of tasks which must be accomplished by a given time in our day. For instance:

Princess must have her hair and teeth and clothing ready, breakfasted, and shoes on by the time we need to take her to school. I don't care what order it's done in as long as it happens. Same general idea for bedtime.

The thing is, my kids are too young or I'm too weak-willed to stick with a hard and fast schedule. Frieda will get hungry, we'll have days like today when all four kids are messily sick in some way or another, or what the heck ever. Since I couldn't keep a perfect schedule I never kept any schedule at all. Which of course didn't work well for me.

Another factor to consider when designing my own accountability system was my learning style: kinesthetic with a chewy crust of visual.

A cheap magnetic dry erase board, a roll of magnetic tape, scissors, a permanent marker, and an hour resulted in this:



Why did this simple thing take a whole hour? Because I wrote up the chore list only to encounter a power failure, hard reset of the computer, and stinking Office wouldn't restore my document. Grrr.

Anyway, the idea is this: I have groups of things on the board which must be accomplished by a given time each day, as well as weekly and monthly groups. The hardest part was taking a realistic look at what I felt I could accomplish by 10 in the morning since the price I pay for only having one feeding at night is a very hungry baby in the morning who makes up for her fast with a frightening level of driven focus. I'm able to add tasks as I need to and likewise leave some out. Today I've markered in things I've accomplished to acknowledge a few of the larger "extras" that crop up. As things are accomplished they are moved to the right side of the board and then shifted back in the morning.

It's entirely practical and therefore plain, but pertinent to my need for a loose schedule, accountability, and a kinesthetic yet long term solution (ie, a paper check list just hasn't worked well for me... to easy to lose or tear. additionally, computer spread sheets just mean more computer time. since I usually nurse during computer time as it is, I didn't need one more thing bringing me back to face my addiction every few mins)

As my ability to efficiently care for a brood of four whipersnappers increases, I can move some things from monthly to weekly and flesh out some of the tasks I sort of skimp on.

Things that must be done daily on weekends will be bordered in black so things don't take their usual terminal nosedive during those "days off."

(short story: I took a day off yesterday. It was a disaster. The end.)

Anyway, those menus I talked about around a month ago? They work. I've got three full weeks of menu planning done and they work. Really!! Using Recipezaar's menu planning thingy as well as my Mom's approach to menu planning, I can say that I've built a system that finally brings me success.

Here's tonight's dinner:
Million Dollar Chicken

It's inexpensive, delicious, and easy. Those are my favorite adjectives to apply to any meal. It's in my crockpot simmering as we speak. Using flash frozen chicken it took under a minute to put together. Yay! I have a spaghetti squash I'm going to halve and roast which is another super easy thing to do.

Another busy Saturday

According to the Army, this is the Month of the Military Child. So they throw a nice, big party with lots of vendors represented, free lunch, and more pens and key chains than you'd ever want to admit to owning. Last year the lines for everything were unbearable. This year we got there 15 mins before it actually started and the weather was on the cold/windy side so the lines weren't bad at all. The three olders all rode on ponies and generally had a blast. There were Coast Guard boats to explore, bouncy castles to run amok in, things to pet, and free stuff that kids love to collect from each booth. Man and I were tired by the end but I think it was worth going to.

Here are a few highlights. Princess went with Man for most of it while I took the other three, so I don't have many pics of her.

Look, Ma!

a couple pics

This child is wearing a 6-9 month outfit!! Thank you M, it's very cute!


What's more fun than putting a paper bag in the recycling bin? Putting it in the bin in pieces. I just love these paper bags. They make nice hats, vests, space suits, cars, ghosts, murals, etc.

Yet more Tag

This kid cracks me up.

On the way to school our little friend we give rides to was telling Tag and Princess a story about robots. Many robots. In fact, 100 'finity robots. (the kids have lately been fascinated by the idea of infinity) Princess, ever the little adult, informed K that 100 infinity wasn't a real number. Tag, eager to support his friend, said "yes it is, it's just an Italian number."

Later this morning he informed me that he wanted to change his name.

A: That's an interesting idea. What name would you like to have?
T: Well, it can't start with [Princess], because that's a girl's name.
A: You're right.
T: I need a boy's name... but, wait, there's already a Jacob in this world. I guess I can stay being [Tag] for a while.
A: Good idea. Let me know if you change your mind.
T: Ok.

And then he runs off, the matter completely at rest in his mind. I love how he can get all serious and deep and then just shrug it off in favor of enjoying himself.

Not so matzo man

I love cuisine influenced by culture or region. The flavors, textures, and visual elements are exciting and I adore having a lot of variety in my diet. After all, if I have to provide three meals plus snack every day of every year I may as well shake it up now and then, right?

Man has a deep distrust for any food that isn't "normal", though what exactly "normal" is has yet to be determined. We've gone over his list of likes and dislikes many times throughout the years and it changes constantly. One thing will always remain on the dislike list, however, and that's meat with bones. Any bones at all. Give the Man a T-bone steak and the bone will ruin the entire cut for him. The only meat he will appreciate that has bones in it is a brined turkey with plenty of homemade whole berry cranberry sauce. The good news is he will happily eat anything I make that's remotely palatable and unhappily eat anything I make that isn't. He says "thank you" every night and, thanks to Love Language stuff, I know he means it. :)

I tried making some seitan the other day using the "make some dough and wash the starch out" method. I was astounded at how small my lump of dough got. It was less than half the original mass. Boiling it resulted in a product that was very plain and for all intents and purposes the fraternal twin of medium textured tofu. I'm sure that simmering or sauteeing with a good stock/sauce would help matters tremendously. The point remains that it's a lot like tofu meaning the texture is kinda oogy. The only tofu I've had with an really great texture was some my neighbor made many moons ago. I need to email her and ask for the recipe . Man was rather horrified at the bland, weakly textured seitan I had produced from an inferior recipe and requested that I indulge my desire to experiment with it over lunch, and then make something "normal" for dinner.

Anyway, along the lines of "let's take a starchy base, add a couple things and then boil it" we find the dumpling. I've never understood dumplings. I've heard people from the South rave about them, praising light and fluffy ones, gushing over how they melt in the mouth and how no respectable chicken and noodle dish was complete without them. The only dumplings I experienced growing up were the delightful ones my mom made with the saur braaten meal I loved as a young person. They were simmered over red cabbage and managed to be fluffy and dry on the inside and deliciously sauce soaked on the bottom. Then I grew up and tried to make my own with spectacularly nasty results. I always ended up with tough, chewy, coat-your-mouth, pasty lumps.

Then I learned about matzo balls. Matzo, of course, is a Jewish flat bread. They grind it up to make matzo meal, which in turn it used as the base ingredient in these fascinating little lumps. I never could imagine what in the world a matzo ball would be like. Would it be dry on the inside like Mom's? Would it be pasty and gross like mine, yet somehow manage to become a cultural delicacy fit to grace a high holy day? Descriptions range from light and fluffy to dense and meaty. After catching glimpses of matzo meal in stores around this time of year for years, I finally decided to see what the big deal was.

However, I'm about to be disowned by every Jewish friend I have when I tell you that I made them with bread crumbs and then added them to chicken soup. Sorry, guys.

Yesterday was just a chicken soup day. It also could have been "eat the whole Cocoa Reserve bar in 5 mins" day. Or "eat the entire carton of double cookie dough ice cream" day. Instead I thought it was safer to have chicken soup and homemade bread (from a machine) day. So I got my bread crumbs out of the cupboard, measured, mixed, boiled, and eventually produced some matzo-style balls.

They have baking soda in them as well as eggs. Between the two I got something that managed to be light and fluffy and completely water-logged at the same time. I had added some herbs and garlic salt and found that after simmering them in my own personal batch of soup with lunch today the flavors were perfect. The texture was like nothing I'd ever had in a soup -- not as meaty as the chicken, not as soft as the simmered cabbage. It was just firm enough to hold it's shape and need cutting with a spoon but light enough to melt in the mouth, dispersing its flavors among a mouthful of soup.

These little things are completely surprising to me and wonderfully versatile. I'll have to try the firm variety and see which style finds favor.

But you know... I have yet to even mention to Man that I made these things. They are on a plate in the fridge, hanging out until I decide to do with the rest of them. If he's seen them, he hasn't said a word. Maybe he's hoping I won't mention it either and he'll duck having to be the taste tester for one of my "not-normal" cuisine-hopping trials. Maybe next time I'll have to get some real matzo meal and silently serve them as a side dish with dinner. Mwahahaha.

This was a fun article to read about the Battle of the Matzo Balls.

Lullaby - Tag style

This morning Frieda fell asleep on the way home from the school run. Pebbles woke her up which upset Tag, so he came over to me and asked if he could sing her to sleep. Of course!

Here are some lyrics (imagine them in Tag-volume little boy falsetto, rather like a Vagnerian lullaby as sung by the Chipmunks

Baby Frieda,you're so cute baby
You can't do anything but eat like a frog
And poop in your diaper
So sleep baby
You have to go to sleep
you're so tiiiiiiiiiiiired
So you want some smarshmallows
But you have no teeth
But that's ok 'cause you like milk
So sleep and sleep some mooooooore

Good weekend

Saturday got off to a busy start with a quick tendon check at the hospital for Princess (she's fine), an hour at a neighborhood ice cream social at our park, and a birthday party for Tag's friend. After I got home we shipped the older three off to a friend's house for a few hours while Man and I watched movies and snuggled on the couch.

I've often thought about what I'd do with my time if I were temporarily kidless, like when they all go to school. Would I take the opportunity to clean? Catch up on household projects? Maybe I'd read, go to the gym, hang out with friends, go take care of errands I just feel I can't quite get to with the little ones crawling all over me. Maybe get that degree I've been dreaming about.

So what'd I do with a kid-free afternoon? I caught up on the most important earthly relationship I have. I'd say that's an afternoon very well spent.

Anyway, Man helped set the house to rights in the evening (one of the perks of Quality Time). Half the household manifested ill this morning so I got to take the other half with me to church which was also most of a vacation. It's still so strange to get to go to the mother's room and chat, go to relief society and hear adults speak, and still not know half my own ward. It's also strange that so many people I knew moved in after we did are now moving on to what's next. I met a couple who had just moved in for whom coming to this city is their next step in moving on. They've done the newly wed thing, college, and are now working on a career. Wow. We've been married for over three quarters of a decade and we're still not into that whole career thing yet. Maybe some day.

And now for something completely different and totally TMI (Too Much Information, for the uninitiated):

I mentioned several posts ago that my milk supply was dwindling for unknown reasons. Sister in law J sent some mother's milk tea. I sipped a cup this past Thursday to wind down after drama and the next day HOLY COW. All I'm going to say is that stuff works, folks. Tried it again the next night and HOLY TOLEDO it worked again. Didn't drink any last night and once again, dwindling supply. I've never, in my whole life, had an herbal remedy work that quickly and so profoundly and as advertised. Thank you, Sister in law J, for a fantastic brew that makes both mom and baby sigh in relief.

Music

CANdYRAT has some awesome artists. They all have a distinctive level of talent but are also noticeably unglamorous. The three I'm really loving nowadays are:

Andrew White -- Here Comes the Rain, Traces of Silver, and Holy Island.

Gregory Hoskins -- Beautiful Parade, Never a Stranger Kiss, and Black Flakes of Memory.

Last but not least, the incomparable Andy McKee -- Drifting, specifically, but really anything he plays on that guitar is magic.

Maybe it's all the acoustic guitar which happens to make me weak in the knees.

Then there's Nickel Creek. I've never heard any of their music until doing that stupid "guess that band" stuff. Some of theirs that I can't get enough of include Speak, When You Come Back Down, and This Side.

Ah, so much good music...
What are your current favs?

Oh, what a day!

Oh what a day! (sung to the tune of "Oh, what a night!")

Oh what a day
Early April in 2008
What a very full and nasty plate
What a silly, stressful day

Oh what a day
Busted tire and then a busted foot
I wish I coulda sucker clocked that coot
What a lousy, awful day

Ok, you want to know how it went? Of course you do. That's why you're here. I feel like the Grandpa on Princess Bride: "Adventure, Police Officers, Subway Sandwiches, Grumpy Old People, Friends to the Rescue, Stupid People Moments...." Will you try to stay awake?

It all started around 5:40 when I woke to feed Lil' Sweet Pea. No big deal, we're used to waking up around then nowadays. So I got her settled in time for me to go grab a shower and get dressed before taking the crew + 1 friend to drop Princess + 1 friend off at school. Then I sat down to work on the FRG calendar, called the FRG leader with some questions and of course, whenever I chat with C, it can't be just a minute because she's so dang fun to talk to. My friend B had very kindly offered to watch Things 2 and 3 so I could have some nice down time and relax by my lonesome.

But NOOOOO, I had to go run an errand. This was my first mistake. I should have just accepted the down time with grace. So, off I went up to the JAG office on Post so I could get a request for Frieda's birth certificate notarized. Yes, I hadn't done that yet. I was supposed to wait a month after her birth before sending in the request and, well, after that I just sort of completely forgot.

Anyway, Post is a real pain to drive around since it's like a sprawling and spacious downtown, with fields and things all over but narrow and one way streets and "don't park here or you'll regret it" signs everywhere. And of course very few of the important offices people have to go to actually have proximal parking. Fortunately though, JAG is free for service persons and their families so we got a notary, three kinds of powers of attorney, and we're going to get a will drawn up all for free. Not bad, eh?

So since I happened to be up there I asked Man if he wanted to go to lunch. Now, he keeps talking about how I could use the practice with driving down town, and he's right, but then he doesn't behave himself like he's actually appreciating the fact that I am, in fact, practicing driving down town. I keep hearing things like "wait, that was a perfect parking space, why'd you go right past it?" or "wait! never be in the cross walk at the same time as pedestrians" or "what'd you do that for?"

Now, I get tired of such things so I often just silently stick to the passenger side and happily hum and stare out the window while he does all the stuff I do but with Competence. Fortunately, this and the fact that he doesn't put more water through the filter pitcher after taking a drink are his last two remaining annoying habits so I really can't complain. I'm sure I can be much more annoying than him.

Anyway, so after missing a parking spot and looping around the block and fumbling with some parallel parking but not actually hitting anything while doing so, we park and walk up to Subway. I asked for a 6" but Man said that since a 12" is just a dollar more we may as well get one of those and take the leftover home. Ok, so I asked to switch to a 12" but the Sandwich Artist misheard me and made both a 6" and a 12". So, now I'm feeling like a total fool when I meekly ask if I might have only the 12". -sigh- After that we got to sit and eat and chat which is something we don't get to do very often, sitting at a table for two which is also something we don't do often. We did have Frieda with us but she doesn't take much room.

After lunch I insisted that Man drive back to Post so he could get his car and go to yet another MRI on his shoulder, but this one was done with dye. Mere blocks from Subway he curb checked the van and completely blew out a tire. We pulled to a stop in a residential area with nice houses and parallel parking only. You'd think that if you had enough money to have a house like that in an area like this you'd be able to afford one with a DRIVEWAY but I'm getting ahead of myself.

So, I called the roadside service we have, reported that no, we don't have a spare, gave them the info they needed to find and assist us, and Man had to leave so he could walk back to Post and get his car. Poor Man happened to be in his Class A uniform. Not a fun thing to walk all over a city in.

So I sat. And waited. And got a call back from roadside service to let me know that they couldn't find a truck in the area that could transport both myself and Frieda. Through the course of many phone calls I got ahold of the guy watching my kids and someone who could come give Frieda and me a ride but she had to run an errand first herself. The truck didn't get there until an hour and a half had passed during which time the man who lived in the house in front of which I was parked pulled up in his car and glared at me. I apologized for taking "his" spot but he parked across the street (a whole 'nother 10 feet) then stalked into his house, making the time I was alone in the van pretty uncomfortable. Fortunately, Frieda is a wonderfully calm child and was perfectly content to nurse a bit and smile with her mother. Soon his wife also parked in front of me making it impossible for anything like, maybe, a tow truck to get close to me without completely blocking the street. After Friend A came to hang out until the tow truck arrived, those two old people came out of the house together. The lady was asking her husband why they couldn't take her car, but the guy said they were just going to take his for no reason, leaving her car in front of mine and no way to knock on the door and ask them to move it for us so the tow truck could get in.

Oh, well. My fault for not having a spare, right?

Anyway, the tow truck got there and the nice man informed me that I do, indeed, have a spare tire. Where? Underneath the back end of the van. What's more, we also had a jack. However, I have yet to locate a lug wrench that is also hidden in the van but with that tire and jack there afterall I'm spooked at the idea of what other secrets my vehicle may have, just waiting for me to need them and laugh at me.

I do know how to change a flat. Which made it all the more embarrassing.

He asked me if I'd like to drive it home and I said yes, yes I would. So he put our (nice, full-sized) spare on for me, put the old tire in the back of the van, and Friend and I drove home. I got to B's house to find that Pebbles was still napping so I ran off to pick up the older kids from school, then ran back to his house to drop off my and his oldest, taking my and his youngest home with me so I could clean and start some dinner. I had just put one of the big ones in the bath and started to nurse Frieda when I got a phone call from B.

Go to the hospital now, he said. Princess has a hole in her foot from a garden tool.

His voice was loud and panicked. I thought, heck, this guy is an Iraq veteran. I'm sure he's seen all kinds of injuries and garbage so if this is making him scared it must be bad.

So I called yet another friend to rush on over to watch the kids so I could take Frieda and trek on up to the hospital. While frantically putting Frieda back in her car seat (and boy was she mad) and trying to stay calm so the kids wouldn't freak I got another phone call on my cell from B, saying that a police officer wants to talk to me.

What the heck?

So the police officer asked me if I had a child that B was caring for. I said yes, described her, gave her and my full names, at which point I remembered yet again why I never use my cell at home. It was cutting out. Of all the freaking times for a cell to cut out. So I managed to call him back from a land line, run to a neighbor's house to grab him to watch the kids until my other friend got there to watch them until Man got home and drove off just as Friend C rolled up. So, three adults and 5 kids (two of which were mine) were in my unpickedup, undishwashed house. Oh well. I'd done a lot of pride-swallowing that day and that was not the time to stop.

I had been told on the phone to drive to a high school near by. What the heck? I was totally confused but was later told that B had well and truly panicked. He put Princess and his child into his car (which, btw, is an old Crown Vicky, complete with black and white paint a la Cop Car except it's rusted and patchy now) and tore down the road, calling 911. Why calling 911? To get directions to the hospital.

The dispatcher told him to pull over as soon as he could and the ambulance and police would find him and help. So he pulled over and found himself explaining to 10 police officers and two EMT's why he had an injured child who wasn't his in his car that looked like it was imitating a police cruiser.

Go ahead and laugh. I know I am.

Later Princess mentioned that B was driving so fast and crazy that it scared her. People were calling the police to report an "erratic" driver. Neighbors were discussing the car that just whipped through the neighborhood followed shortly by several emergency vehicles. For one day we were the cause of all that commotion you hear out your window, and those emergency sounds that chill the blood as you imagine what sort of horror they're responding to. Yep, just lil' ol' us.

Anyway, I pulled up when there were only two cruisers left and found her wide-eyed and quiet in the back seat. I could tell that my girl, who gets completely hysterical from immunizations couldn't be injured too badly if she were just sitting here without a peep. So I put her in my van, signed off the form the EMT's gave me saying I refused medial treatment from them, and helped the police with their report, then drove her up to the ER.

5 stitches later, she's still awfully dramatic about it but just fine. It turned out to be a shallow but nasty laceration as opposed to the deep puncture B thought it was. She drags herself into the computer chair and weakly pushes herself around the house in it so she can get around. Oh, the drama.

Poor Man arrived home from his MRI to find all these people including B and B's older child all over the house and an onslaught of explanations to sort through, including the 4 incoherent messages I left on his cell phone.

One final phone call from the police to complete an accident report brought our adventure to a close.

Spaghetti for dinner and an early bedtime for all.

What did I learn yesterday? After watching Frieda stay so calm even though she isn't thrilled with her car seat or driving around or being largely ignored for most of the day, she was fine as long as she was fed and I was close by. Being a religious person I thought about God, and wondered what it would be like if that was the sort of attitude I adopted. As long as I have God, the rest isn't miserable at all -- just interesting and hard, and joyous. That made dealing with the ER a lot easier and it made it possible for me to get out of bed this morning, ready for a new adventure.

I was also very humbled by the kindness of friends and their willingness to watch out for us. This community is incredibly quirky and the people here have all had hard lives in some way or another, but we stick together in ways I've never experienced before. Friend C called this morning to see how I was doing and we just laughed and laughed over this, especially since she's a nurse, EMT and fireperson. (firewoman? fire...fighter? whatever) Poor B keeps shaking his head over the whole thing, remembering over and over what it felt like to be questioned by so many officers all at once and wondering if he was going to be arrested. Princess told me that she wished I had told the ambulance to take her to the hospital since she hasn't been in one yet. Bah.
So, on to whatever's next. I get to watch a friend's child after school, host one of Man's friends for a couple of hours, watch another friend's child this evening, and my house is still dirty.

But first I had to blog about it. :)

too funny

see more crazy cat pics

fail

see more crazy cat pics

I LOL ur cheez burger

see more crazy cat pics

Getting Zen on laundry

So, dirty laundry. What is dirty laundry? I know, stupid question, but humor me for a moment.

Perspective A: Dirty laundry is what happens to clothes when they are worn and either soiled or no longer fresh. It is a transformation. Clothing is worn on the body. Dirty laundry lies crumpled in the laundry basket. Clean laundry lies crumpled in the clean clothes basket. Folded laundry rests on/in the laundry folding station (in my case, either my bed or the couch). Clothes are that which is stashed in drawers or closet. Each stage transforms a single object into something else that requires a different place to exist and be considered "put away."

Perspective B: Laundry is merely clothing that has to go through sort of a long process before getting put it back in its place. Its place remains the same regardless of its condition.

Same thing with dishes -- they have a home in the cupboard. Once they are gotten out for use they are simply on a journey back to whence they came.

Oh, come on, give me a break. I have to amuse myself somehow and this is what I have to work with. ;)

Good job!

Overheard this morning:

Pebbles: abble jacks, peeze!

Tag: Good job! You know how to say apple jacks!


LOL I love hearing words like that come out of my kids' mouths. Something must be sinking in. We would usually say "good job saying please" though, instead of "abble jacks." ;)

this week

This week so far

Monday - clean up from weekend/spring break. Try to get to some grocery shopping, fail. Kids needed naps, we had appt with chaplain in evening. Kids late to bed. Everyone grumpy.

Tuesday - Try to get to some grocery shopping, fail. Watch friend's kid instead, then watch other friend's two kids until after dinner time. Get more cleaning done, hurray.

Wednesday - Try to get some grocery shopping done, fail. Grumpy kids, kids needed naps, busy day getting paperwork done on the home front. Also notice that my personal milk supply is getting very low. Baby unhappy, hungry, nursing all the time.

Thursday - Friend asks if we can swap babysitting so we can both go to gym. Cool, we start at 9 and give each other two hours. Also notice that milk is low still despite much nursing of baby, pumping after she's done, and drinking extra water. Finaly manage to get some grocery shopping done in 15 mins before commissary closed.

Friday - Woke up to find that Pebbles had lost her dinner in her crib some time last night. Much grateful for large washers with "sanitary" cycle. Still lack of milk, still nursing lots (much to my lack of sleep) and very, very tired. No gym today with sick child and other child who is hungry. :(

Tomorrow -- you can pry me from my house and/or bed when I'm dead and cold.

Another obscure one

If a body of water surrounding a castle were to create a sculpture, or painting, it would be.... [name of musical entity]

I can't resist

+

blogger formatting

I officially hate blogger formatting. Their pictures are hard to place, their html thing sucks, and you can tweak all you like but as soon as you hit publish, it rearranges to its heart's content regardless of your various efforts.

-pant, pant-

Stupid rant, over. I've heard it called recreational outrage. ;)

Those silly Chaplains

In taking an inventory of what may be causing Man's headaches, the company Chaplain asked to see both of us yesterday to find where we might trim some of his stress and make life easier for both of us.

We have some friends who are also seeing him who came over to report that he wants to go to different training so he can man tanks and "blow stuff up." They laughed raucously over that one because chaplains are supposed to be non-combative.

I told them to look at it this way: right now he's in the business of saving souls, and now he wants to start sending them back for refurbishing.

Yeah, I'm a snot and I'm earning "heck and darnation" points for being snarky about a man of God.

Anyway, he hands out that 5 Love Languages book to couples who come in for help. I've heard tons about it but this is the first time I've actually read it and taken the real quiz. It's been very insightful and delightfully simple to read. It's interesting to know that, since one of Man's primary love languages is acts of service, when he thanks me for cooking or cleaning or watching kids he actually means it. Of course that also means means that, to my shame, I havn't been giving him enough credit. On the other hand, my primary love language is quality time followed closely by all the others in a tight gaggle... except for that poor little runt, gifts. Man actually confessed that when he was wife shopping that he looked for a woman who wasn't hugely keen on gifts, that rascal.

So, anyway, even though we don't feel a huge need to get counseling for our relationship since it's actually going swimmingly, we get some anyway and another self-help book.

I wonder if I could get him to switch to quick and easy cookbooks, since that'd help with stress some, I bet. Or maybe, instead of an hour of counseling for us, we could get an hour of babysitting and go on a date. Or take a nap.

Name that band/musical person

1.



- "E"











2.





+ "E"















3.

I don't know what it is, but it's cerulean, and at least 100 feet down there.
4.

Wait, no, that eye-twitch, that particular one, more than the other 181, just sang to me. It must be all the small things in your eye.

5.

Like a strange brew... (this one's tricky)

6. (ignore the cow)

















7.







(sh ss)








8.