Each of my children have their own creative strengths.

Daniel is straight forward. What-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of inventions. Nothing to worry about, just plain 'ol fun. With Daddy's help, he made this modification to his cozy coupe after a failed attempt at making a monster truck out of paper. Something about making your own contraption from scratch is satisfying. (there's more coloring around the other side.) Of course he's Gravedigger. And it's not finished yet. I'd like to paint this sucker and maybe add a bit of bling to it. Too bad we don't have more access to huge appliance boxes. I'd love to see what unfolds then.

I was smacked around and force-fed a huge dose of reality with this one today. As I was slaving away in the kitchen, (ok, standing and trying to figure out what to prepare for dinner) I heard a peculiar conversation happening in the living room. She was talking to herself in a mock "role-play" manner which is very common for her. I don't usually pay much mind but today I felt extra curious so I stood quietly and listened. Fear soon replaced innocent curiosity and I swiftly regretted eavesdropping. I should have kept on doing nothing in the kitchen.

I won't write the details, (no need to embarrass her too much just yet) but the words smooch, boyfriend, rock star and breaking up were mentioned. And the phrases "been in the tent a long time" and "that's the biggest longest kiss..." Also ribbit ribbit. (hopefully an innocent reference to fairy tales)

She hasn't even hit the tween years yet and this has become part of her vocabulary. While I'm relatively safe for now, I'll feel better when Tim gets his shotgun from his parents' and I can start looking into nunneries.

Besides, it's this one I think I really have to worry about.

(Daniel is flipped around-head at the foot of the bed)

Holy Maloly! Getting the kids to bed is becoming quite an extravagant endeavor. There is no simple story-thenbrushteeth-thencozyupinbed routine. No no. That's way too boring. I'm going to have to start bribing them just to get them into the bathroom. We get upstairs and while I'm sure they were right behind me a second ago, they are now scattered in every other room.

I'd love to see this on tape. You know, sped up so that the span of 15 minutes is shown in 30 seconds? With silent movie piano music plinking in the background? You'd see all of us in and out of every upstairs room no less than 27 times. And me spinning superfast around in circles in the middle of the hallway every 5 seconds.

I check the girls room. Shannon has already emptied about 30 of her purses and arranged the items on the floor in preparation for rearranging. Katie is in Dan's room playing with the trucks and trains. And Dan? He's in mommy's and Daddy's room stressing the kitties out.

"Okay kids! Everybody in the bathroom! Brush teeth! Go potty! Get jammies on!"

I pick up Katie and with one arm and carry her to the bathroom while I pull down her pants with the other. Stick her on the potty. Good. We have a start. Before I can check on the other two, Kate's screaming "No! Ha to brus teef!"

OK. (it's gross but...) I give her the loaded toothbrush and let her go to town while sitting on the pot.

"Shannon! Do you have your jammies on yet?"

no answer.

"Dan!" as I walk into his room, assuming I'd find him there. Nope. Go into my room. Nada. "Dan?"

*giggle giggle* "I'm in the cwoset! You can't find me!"

"No I can't! Now go potty!"

back at the bathroom, I'm trying to help Katie put on jammies and her diaper. "NO MA! Wet mee do it!"

"But it's inside out. Let me get it for you."

"NO MAA! WET ME DO IT!!"

ok, ok, be back in a sec.

"Shannon, please get your jammies on!"

Shannon: "Mom? (holding a charm on a chain) When you get a second, could you undo this for me?"

"Yeah, ok. Then get ready for bed."

"Katie! Come to bed now! Are your jammies on yet?"

"No ma! I ha to cween!"

Now Kate's scrubbing the bathroom with a washcloth, I still haven't seen Dan and I think Shannon may have at least put her stuff away.

30 minutes later... The girls are in bed (after Katie's nightly cannonball jump into it) A jammie-less Dan comes into the girls room with a truck and wants to make tire patterns on the rug. This fascinates Katie who is now out of bed and fighting for the truck. At least Shannon is ready.

(ok, it wasn't 30 min. later...whatever)

After an eternity, (I really need to get me some patience) prayers and nite nites have been said. Everyone is tucked in, and as I come out of the bathroom to head downstairs, Dan says "Mom? I have a couple sentences to say."

*deep breath in* "Yeah? What?"

"I have me heart and I love you and Maggie and I'm so happy you are taking care of me and us guys."

*exhale* Awwww...

Right after I took the picture of Shannon, she went into one of those lucid but still dreaming states. She sat up, scratched her chin, looked at me and said

"A pig."

me: "A Pig?"

Shannon: "A pig."

Totally unrelated ridiculous quote for the day:

"Oh. This is the kid's house. We're doing this for the kids."

said by Jon (of Jon & Kate plus 8) when asked why they are getting a (totally unnecessary in their kajillion dollar home) new kitchen.

When we were young, (before kids-BK) the idea of pets was so appealing. Especially (as Katie would say) "teeny tiny" ones. They're just so fluffy and cuddly and precious and cute. (stop gagging Teresa)

As a child, I loved wee creatures as most kids do. I wanted to take home the lonely flea-infested strays, care for the broken-winged baby birds, humanely trap and keep a squirrel as a pet. (I mean c'mon, how can a wild animal be so gosh-darned cute and not be meant to be kept and brushed and napped with?)


I really loved my cats with all my heart and thoroughly believed that when they snuggled with me, they were expressing their undying thanks to me for being such a wonderful human. That they loved it when I drew on them with markers or dressed them in cute outfits.

This love of animals carried on through young adulthood and into the BK times. Tim and I adopted Maggie and Gracie soon after moving into our first place. It was a sign of our commitment. It meant that we were responsible adults. In retrospect, it was probably a mistake.

I like my cats, sort of. But somewhere in time, after children started to come, it became easy to really hate those obnoxious, smelly, prissy things.

What's happened to me? I used to spend hours petting and loving and telling my secrets to my feline friend. Now, I'm constantly kicking the stupid varmint out of my sacred lap and cursing as I wipe the drool off my hand. (Gracie leaks from her mouth when she's settling into position)
At promptly 6:30 am, EVERY morning, I am awakened not by my children, but by the stupid ding-a-ling cat who is literally in my face. Drooling and meowing and shoving her hungry self onto any exposed parts of my comatose body. (not Tim's of course, just me) Even the kids know not to bug me first thing in the morning. I'm positive the only reason why my cat is still with us and not dead in a bag in the river is because I'm too paralyzed at that hour of the morning to do anything about it.

I've become so selfish I don't even want a warm soft body in my lap after the kids go to bed. That's when they come out. And that's when I'm least in the mood to appease them. They're just another living thing trying to suck away my will to live.

Aren't they supposed to be therapeutic? Shouldn't I live longer because I own one? How bout twice as long because I own two?

There is still the occasional amusing moment keeping my deadly thoughts at bay. When Gracie enters a room very cautiously, stepping as if through a minefield, I like to wait till she is just at my feet and then twitch a toe ever so quickly and slightly. When successful, she'll lift her hind legs up and pivot around on her front paws or sometimes travel straight up off all fours as a startle reflex.

That's fun. Every cat owner does stuff like that right? Am I cruel?

I also enjoy making them chase the imaginary laser mouse around in circles till they are too dizzy to walk straight. Is the ASPCA going to come after me now? I'm pretty sure the cats like it. After all, we know they won't do anything they don't want to do.

I've tried to recapture my lost feelings for my pets, but all I come up with are resentful ideas of how to get rid of them because dammit, Grace peed on the carpet again. But the kids seem to like 'em, so I'll tolerate them. For now.

Time to sign her up for gymnastics.

Or the Olympics

Or the circus.

Or maybe it's time to stop her from growing and subsequently doing any REAL damage.

I don't want to jinx anything here, but I bet she'll be the first one in the family to break a bone.

Speaking of jinxing, I'm feeling a teensy tad Twilight Zone-ish after hearing about John Hughes passing away. What was it, two days ago I mentioned him? It wasn't long after I did the one about Billy Mays when he died too. So who wants to be the next subject on here?

I tell you what, I'm not really superstitious but I thought twice about writing about my youngest tonight.
Something tells me not to worry, she'll climb her way out of anything.

Reasons to be proud

Our kitchen sink pipes have decided to finally conk out on us and refuse to drain. (I won't admit it was the surplus of potato peels I tried to force down the disposal) The smart thing to do would be to call a plumber. But we know that they will tell us all our pipes need replacing and we're not prepared for news of that sort. We'd rather live like it's colonial times and throw the dirty dishwater out into the backyard until we've exhausted every attempt at fixing it ourselves. Can't wait to meet the new neighbors. I'm sure they'll love us.
How many times have I said I would love to live like the Amish? With their cute wagons and simple lifestyle? Heck with that! I want indoor plumbing back. Though I'm pretty sure they have that so what time period am I referring to? Anyone? I know, Little House on the Prairie times. I need to brush up on my history. So I'm proud of myself for coping with a primitive lifestyle. For maybe one more day. That's it.
Also, I mowed our lawn for the first and ONLY time today. Can't say as I like it much. I was dripping with sweat and it wasn't even hot out. My hands felt like they were shaking for 2 hours afterwards and I stink. Yuck. So I'm a princess. So what? At least I pump my own gas. (Maureen:)





Katie has been talking a lot more. I wish I could understand a lot more but after she says staccato-like "mom! yoo ha to ge me reek!" I'm still saying "what?? You want me to get you week? No wait a minute, you want me to get you drunk? No, that's not right..."

I do understand this one though. "kaa baa!!" She says this while perched on the edge of her bed just before jumping onto the mattress. Anyone guess?





I'm so proud of Dan because he has officially reached big boy-dom and is no longer requiring pull-ups at night. I think he could have done this long ago and was just milking it for as long as he could. I started to clue in when he began to call himself a baby and play pretend sucking his thumb. I don't mind most forms of imaginary play but that one drives me nuts.

And the finale! Shannon's new smile! Again! Poor thing can't even say her own name properly with the other front tooth now gone. But she doesn't seem to mind. She wanted to keep her tooth because it reminded her of when she had speech therapy and learned to keep her tongue behind her teeth. (guess she'll have to re-learn that one) I'm anxious to see how the new ones grow in. Are braces in our future? (nooo, please nooo!)

School? Who needs school to start? (me...DESPERATELY!)
At Aunt Nancy's birthday party this weekend, the kids did their share of learning.


Katie made a new friend.

Daniel studied hard in shop class.

Shannon and Jayden actually DID some work.

Science class. See the tiny toad?

It's all fun and games till... Uh oh! Who's this scary dude coming up the hill?

Run away!!!

Keep running!!

Whew.

Movies made in the eighties. Ya gotta love 'em. They're pretty horrible, most of them anyway. Soundtracks dripping with saxophone and keyboard music. (Romancing the Stone) Special effects that wouldn't convince a ten year old. (The Neverending Story) Scripts that seem like they're written by a ten year old. (Dirty Dancing)

When I watch any John Hughes movie now, I am embarrassed I once identified with it.

But these movies all had something that movies now lack. A sense of fun and freedom. Maybe they're not all polished and overproduced, but they had heart underneath that layer of cheese. (Goonies) I loved these cornball flicks as a kid and when I see them now, despite laughing at the ridiculousness of them, they're fun. Maybe I'm just nostalgic.

I could watch Jon Cryer dance to "Tenderness" at Trax in "Pretty in Pink" over and over and never get bored. Or laugh at Bill Murray getting slimed in "Ghostbusters". Or feel the anguish Mary Stuart Masterson felt when she helped her secret crush/friend practice kissing in "Some Kind of Wonderful".

Born at the right time, I was able to appreciate these movies for their simple purpose: for teens to identify with and laugh at. Simply to be entertained. On the surface, it seems like there is some pretty bad acting going on. But there is a sense of reality to it that only a teen watching a teen gets.

Nowadays, films are made to either be sleeper Oscar hopefuls or shiny box office smashes. (or fluffy Disney cult producers. Is anyone else sick of High School Musical yet?) And not all the 80's flicks were so horrible. "Raiders" of course is classic. As is "Out of Africa" and "Stand by Me."

This weekend I saw parts of "Mystic Pizza", "Ghostbusters" and "Ferris Bueller's Day Off". Love "em! Bad as they are, they bring me back to childhood and for that, to me they are classics.



Totally unrelated side thought for the day. People who say every kid after the second doesn't make a difference must have had their memory modified. It's much LOUDer.