When I was a little girl, I remember often sitting on the counter that separated the kitchen from the dining area. What I don't recall is exactly how I got up there. The agility and grace required to jump up to such a place were not qualities I possessed in the least so I think it's safe to assume that I was placed there, probably strategically.
Right around dinner time daily, it became ritualistic for me to run maniacally at my sister Teresa from the other room and scream "BEAR HUG!!" before ramming into her full force. She would generously oblige and then promptly set me on the counter. Her best defense against another attack was stranding me up there because we all know Teresa probably has only one hug in her per day and I filled her quota consistently. Unfortunately, her efforts to fend me off were usually thwarted by a more severe and painful result of me being on the counter. When perched there, my Frankenstein forehead reached exactly the middle point of her nose. And for reasons I conveniently don't recall, I may or may not have bonked her repeatedly on her perfect schnoz with my monstrous cranium.

I'm sorry Teresa, that your would-be straight nose is now slightly bent. And that you probably don't have full use of it mostly due to my childhood games.

But I sense an impending come-uppance. Fear not. You will be avenged.

Okay, one last *first day of school* picture. I know how exhausted everybody (facebook users in particular) is with these mundane yea-yea-yea-so your kid goes to school-so-what photos so I'm done.
After this one.
Because it is evidence of a phenomena that I am scared I will never (ever) see again except in my dreams.

Dan came home proclaiming that school was so much fun and appeared genuinely excited to go back.
All is right with the world.

Except not so much this.

You know those exercises where you look at a picture filled with various items in a relatively normal scene and you have to pick out what is wrong with the picture?

This is NOT one of those pictures because everything in this image doesn't belong. (Now I'm singing "One of these things is not like the other, which one is it, can you tell?)

Two summers ago, that hole started out just big enough to bury a rabbit in. I let it go because Daniel loved to turn it into a construction site or a monster truck arena or just to dig. Digdigdigdigdig. Now it's big enough to bury a small pony in and I don't know whether I'm more frightened of falling in this gaping dusty void happening in our otherwise normal yard, or the fact that I keep comparing it to burial sites.

Either way, it's starting to wig me out and so, as a tribute to the closing of the summer season, I think it's time to say goodbye to what has become like a reliable old friend to Dan and Kate. (ok, when I put it like that it's a lot harder to get rid of the stupid thing)

Because soon I'll start calling it "the pit of despair" in a strangely raspy voice and threaten the kids with it. As in "If you don't pick up your toys right now, I'm going to throw them into the pit of despair and it will swallow them whole, digesting them slowly for over a thousand years."

Yeah, something like that.

Maybe I'll leave it alone a little longer...

"Happy days are here again. The skies above are clear again. Let us sing a song of cheer again. Happy days are here again!"

Yay! Yippee yahooie! Whoop whoop! Who's happy? Everybody's happy!

Except Daniel not so much.

His day doesn't really count anyway because I went with him and it was only orientation for an hour and a half. I was worried about this day because last year he had a bit of difficulty understanding that school is not just playtime. When this concept sank in, he sort of shut down and refused to cooperate with any task that remotely resembled anything educational. No coloring, no puzzles, no singing, only on the playground was he interactive.

He did not surprise me today.

When it was time for the kids to separate from the parents, he flipped out. He ran to the corner, sat down crying (screaming) and REFUSED to get up. I picked him up and put him in the cute little line of kindergartners. Nope. Like a little mouse that keeps running to it's food no matter how many times you pick it up and put it elsewhere, he was back out of line, on the floor and crying loudly.

Again.

Every class has that kid. This year I get to be the parent of him.

And so Shannon came home reporting a wonderful first day and that she can't wait to go back.
So one out of two ain't bad right?

Last night we had one last summer hurrah at the park.

We went swimming. (sort of)

There was a bonfire. (kinda)

We were so far out in the country we saw a cowboy. (okay, I'm not foolin' anyone. Hi Dad)
Great picnic food too.

A little pigskin.

And some playground action.

But what's this? What did they find over there in the woods?

Yeah. To celebrate summer, the kids went sledding too.

I don't know how they got that out of the tree, (or why it was in a tree) but they got a kick out of it.

Now we're ready for winter.

Yeah, ok. Sure.

Happy days are here again. The skies above are clear again. Let us sing a song of cheer again. Happy days are here again.

Girl's Night In

I've always wanted a bunk bed. They're like your very own tree house right in the comfort (and bug free-ness) of your room.

When our kids numbered from two to three, I thought for sure we'd get bunk beds for whichever kids ended up sharing a room.

After Katie was born, I made the mental note to have bunks in the girls' room. A couple years later, I made a further note that Katie would be on the top bunk because Shannon has a tendency to sleepwalk and while her dazed mutterings and wanderings are endearing, broken bones are not.




She is SOUND asleep. I think we'll have to wait a bit longer before ANYONE is sleeping on any top bunk. Though I may be willing to trade places for a night or two...

Daniel is sleeping over at Uncle Tim and Aunt Nicole's tonight so it was a girlie night. I never thought I'd say or do anything that involved discussing the 20 shades of fuchsia or hair styling; rollers or curling irons? But after having and almost thoroughly enjoying raising girls, I have lost my anti pink-and-feminine-and-cutesy attitude. So when Shannon begged to paint nails and do our hair and tell secrets, I obliged happily.

Katie's secret telling was simply whispering the word *secret* over and over much to Shannon's disappointment. She had expected to hear juicy details about unrequited love from her 3 yr. old sister.

I have never put make-up on my kids before and I stressed to them that it won't happen again unless it's Halloween or they are 18. But it was kinda fun and Shannon made a nice model.

Katie not so much. In the words of Dr. Seuss, "she would not could not..." ABSOLUTELY REFUSED to have her picture taken. I wanted to take her where the light was natural and abundant because she really looked cute but she wanted to slurp chocolate milk with a huge spoon and dribble it down the front of her white cotton dress instead.

It's the third time around with her. I'm not stressed about the perfect picture anymore. It's just more fun to watch her make a mess. I don't need two overly sensitive, princessy drama queens in the house anyway.

I couldn't handle that... sincerely.

Just a Comparison

Here we have a very cute one year old who won't take her hat off (even for bed) that doesn't know it yet but she's got a couple of very naive folks for parents. Still the only child, she also remains blissfully clueless to the challenges that will come with the addition of two more siblings to her universe in the near future. (her parents share this lack of information)


It's 2003.

Now it's 2009 and I'm pretty sure she's wising up.

But so are we so we're still ahead of the game.

P.S.

Also, how do kids sit like that? I wish I could still do that. I also miss the ability to sit on my rear in what is really the opposite of Indian style-with shins splayed outward instead of folded neatly.

Ouch!

The Great Outdoors

I'm starting with a somewhat pleasant picture because soon to follow is one I know I wouldn't continue on with after seeing.
We all know Katie is a bit more active than the other two. Is that an understatement? Today she successfully got herself into three mini-accidents within a ten minute time frame.
First, she was attempting to move a chair. That's all. But lacking the herculean strength she thinks she possesses, she managed to crush her toes with one of the the chair legs in the process.
Tears and hugs.

Then, one minute I'm glancing fondly at her while I make dinner as she intently watches the toaster oven while standing on a stool. Then suddenly she is no longer standing. She is falling to the ground. (cue slow- mo action of me dashing heroically to her rescue) Not being the Speedy Gonzales I know is inside of me, she still fell.

Tears again.

And the finale. I grabbed the toaster oven tray to carry to the counter and as I was turning, I clocked Katie in the head with it. (I couldn't see her!) Now it wouldn't be so bad if it was the flimsy metal tray that comes with the oven. No, it was the Pampered Chef STONEWARE tray. I swear I heard it BONG when it struck her head. She's ok, it really didn't hit her hard. I think it scared her more than hurt her. But I had visions of explaining to the ER staff that no, I don't intentionally break my kids' heads with various kitchen items. It really was an accident!!

More tears and hugs. Poor thing.

Since we live in the suburbs, we don't see much wildlife. When we venture out to the country (Avon/Livonia) and the kids see cows, it's exciting. Katie always crunches up her face and says "Wa dat fnell? Chows? Moo chows!" Although being in upstate NY, I'm sure that thrill will peter out pretty soon.
Today started out like every other.

Except I came down to the basement and discovered this fellow. I wanted to show how big he was but I was not about to get close enough to put any sort of point of reference in there. It was hard enough to take a picture with one leg curled up to my stomach while I squirmed and suspiciously eyeballed the ceiling and the walls for this guy's friends. I know they're out there. They don't appear to, but I know they travel in packs and they get revenge for their fallen brothers. Despite that knowledge, this picture marks his last moments and he was soon smushed with a binder onto part of the computer after being sprayed from a safe distance with bug killer. Someday when Tim cleans the computer he will find spider guts smeared into the hard drive because I'm not touchin' it. He's lucky I disposed of it and didn't drag him out of bed to ice it himself. I must have been feeling brave because that's always what I do. But I was afraid it would get away and I would be glancing over my shoulder like a paranoid freak for the next 5 months.

The spider was just the beginning of our visits from the animal kingdom today. This bunny has been hanging around for a couple of months, then he disappeared. Today he came back. It doesn't need to be said that I like him much better than his scary predecessor.

This was taken a few days ago but it sort of adds to the Mutual of Omaha feel I'm going for here.

Then tonight I look out the back window and see a gazillion birds feasting on what I hope were only worms in our backyard. This picture doesn't do the real image justice. I mean there was a scary number of birds which led me to wonder about the even more heebie jeebie-inducing image of what critters they were eating and that they were in the same yard we (not me) run around barefoot in.

Then I saw the chipmunk.

Then I was sure Walt Disney's ghost was playing a practical joke on me and tomorrow I would see the trailer for Enchanted II-Giselle's evil stepsister (me) gets eaten by killer backyard critters.

And this is just pathetic. Also proof of the aforementioned running around barefoot. Did I miss something? Do we live in the country? Because in my dreams of such a life, I am singing to all the cute cartoon animals and the dirt is actually powdered chocolate because we live in Willy Wonka land.

If we were to actually move to wide open spaces, I don't think I would last very long.

We ventured out to the zoo today for the 546th time this summer. Gotta squeeze every last drop of value out of our membership.

I think the meercats recognize us now.

We saw birds.

Though tricky as I am, this photo was taken the last time we went. This time I have no pics of the birds we saw because frankly, how many pictures of birds does a person need? I brought the camera but I am weary of the stress involved with trying to get a nice shot. So we will have little photographic documentation of today's trip at the zoo.

We do however have some proof of what happens at home when mommy is not in the room.

When I did come in, this is what I saw. (inanimate objects make much better subjects) Daniel explained that they were flamingos. "That's the daddy, and see that pinkish one? That's the little one. He's 6. And another one died."

Oh? What happened?

I don't know, he's just dead.

I didn't ask but he never mentioned which one was mommy...

This is a real tiger.

Grrrrrrr

This is our stuffed tiger. Daniel has made a habitat for him in our living room. The arrangement of toys is very specific to ensure the tiger doesn't get away. It's hard to see but the orange truck holds his "food" (Katie's collection of acorns) while he relaxes comfortably on the blanket that should be on the couch.

He's a little crazy but I can't say he's not creative.