Fighting Words

Ahh, I can tell it's the end of summer.

Long gone are any pretenses at teamwork (aka getting along in our house).

The other day in the car this was the discourse in the back seats...

Elsa: "Carl, did you know I was going to say I don't like Charlie?"
Charlie: "You know I can hear you right?"

Later in the day I heard this little gem:

Charlie to Elsa: "When I'm done with the xbox I'm going to slam you on the ground."
Elsa's response: "I'm going to jump on your tummy and knock the air out of you!"
Then Charlie's last word: "Well,I'm going to get a stick and poke your eye."

Nothing but hearts and flowers going down around here.

My plan was to take the kids swimming every day until school starts to keep them tired out.

They wouldn't stay still long enough for more than 2 photos...

But their time in the water is slowly shrinking.  I keep looking up to see their goose bumpy arms and dripping bodies hovering closer and closer, crowding around me like little zombies.

I guess this must be the natural course of events.

Those people who planned how long summer lasts were awfully smart.  They must have had multiple kids at home too because they seem to know with some wonderful accuracy how long the kids can be each others' playmates before all hell breaks loose.

We're on the edge, wouldn't take much from here...

Even though I dread the thought of homework, I look forward to a few hours to myself each day to gather strength and brace myself for the late afternoon/evening shift of mommyhood.

Little Surprises

I really don't know where it came from.

Night before last Elsa decided she was going to wear girl clothes.

Ok, girl clothes that are boy colors.

What?!

I thought she was tricking me, but that night she slept in a black lace skirt and sparkly Paris top.

Yesterday started with a fancy dress

then she wore a sweatshirt with a rainbow on it then changed into a black sparkly skirt and rainbow striped top.

As she pulled on her orange swim trunks she informed me that I "need" to buy her a girl swimsuit.

Today she has on an adorable girl running shorts and the most precious "Land of the Free" sweatshirt.  She's pretty camera shy lately, but I'll try to grab a photo to add later.

Hallelujah!

But, I'll say I can do without her coming home with a heart sticker on each nipple.

That almost gave me a heart attack!

Who?  What?  How?  I stuttered.

She didn't answer.

Maybe being a tomboy is better...?

Not Enough Fire & Brimstone In Our House

I know that every day brings some sort of stunning realization when you're a parent.

The other day, for me, it was that my kids had absolutely no concept of hell.

How the H-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks could these little buggers live years on this earth and have NO CLUE about hell?!

I'm failing as a parent!

Looks like I need to sing, "I've got that joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart" song WAY more often for their benefit.  So the devil can "sit on a tack (ow!) sit on a tack (ow!) sit on a tack to staaaayyyyyyy..."

Clearly there is not nearly enough fire and brimstone in their lives.

And that mini-dose of Jesus each summer isn't cutting it.

I knew it wasn't selfish of me to cart them off to VBS, they need to learn about the ultimate consequence in life!  Maybe we'll try TWO VBSs next summer.  (HA!)

But how do you describe hell and Satan without giving kids nightmares?

Apparently, I did not do it correctly because poor little Elsa had night terrors last night- the worst I've seen in the 11 years I've been parenting.

We've talked lots, and lots about Jesus and heaven.  They know the ins and outs (according my my conjectures) so I tried to explain that as wonderful as heaven is, that's how bad hell is.

Is that right?

I think we really need some professional guidance on this one.

My poor attempt to explain was that Jesus is the ultimate good guy (like an action hero) and the devil is the ultimate bad guy.  Heaven is where you get to do and be anything you want.  Hell is the biggest owies and the worst nightmares all day every day forever.

And if you're a good person, you treat people and animals well and with a good heart you'll get to go to heaven.  If you're bad and hurt people and animals then you'll go to hell.

Pretty simple, I think.

I hope I'm right...

Oh, and the kids know heaven is real because they saw a boy who's been there on the 700 Club.

What?!

My kids watch the 700 Club?

Enough to know the name of it?!

Crazytown!

I had no idea they were watching that show, to be honest it creeps me out a little bit- but I guess it's better than Law & Order or CSI.

Dirty Money

The other night, it was after bath time in our house.

I was laying with Elsa getting ready to read her stories when I noticed Charlie messing with the front of his undies.

Figuring he must be rearranging his parts I didn't think much of it...

Until he pulled a wad of $1 bills out of the special pocket only boys undies have. (And which I assume is the big draw for my little girl who loves wearing boy undies).

I guess strippers aren't the only ones who use undies as wallets.

I almost wonder what else be stores in there but I really don't want to know.

So don't forget, people, wash your hands after handling money.  

You never know where it's been...

Who's Out There

Sometimes I wish that I could tell who's read my blog.

It's a little weird to me that strangers might enjoy reading.

I like it, don't get me wrong.

But sometimes I think back to when I used to put youtube videos out there, until some guy messaged me and asked for more videos of Carl's feet.

Eeeewwww!

So, if you've seen me lately hobbling about here's the story.

Yes, I walk funny- there's some pressure on a nerve that runs down the back of my left leg.

To alleviate that pressure (I've had since the end of APRIL) I took an oral steroid.

Which didn't help.

But I did get shingles (ON MY FACE!!!), thanks to my suppressed immune system.

Likely combined with the insurmountable tasks of packing for a week camping,

48 hours home to do laundry

and re-pack the food and laundry,

off to a wedding

then another week in a toasty climate

with lots of family time

plus trying to do the work I have two grants for,

and conference calls,

and preparing for public hearings,

and agreeing to help coach my daughter's cheer squad,

and keeping 4 rapidly growing little people happy.

IT'S

SO

MUCH

TO

DO!

There,

that's off my chest.

The drugs are done for the shingles.

Yes this is my second time having them (I'm only 38).

At least they're starting to heal so my fingers are crossed the scabs are gone and I'll only have some lovely fresh pink skin on my cheek in time for my 20th high school reunion in less than 2 weeks.

Not to mention the 10 lbs I wanted to lose for the reunion, but I haven't been able to exercise since April...

It's good learning to be humble,

nasty wounds on my face,

softer than I'd like to be,

unable to do everything as well as I'd like,

I'm human.

I know that.

And I hope that it gives me patience to realize everyone else is human too.

No one's perfect, no matter how hard they pretend to be.

Thanks for letting me get that off my chest.

Silver Stars

So, the other day I ran into Fred Meyer to let the kids blow a little of the money they earned and get a couple of groceries that Costco didn't have.

After the painful selection of what they could purchase with the few dollars they had burning a hole in their pockets (Charlie had $8 and Elsa had $6-we had lots of discussions about saving up to buy more expensive items instead of something that's just ok) I was waiting in line for a well-earned Americano.

Elsa spied a rounder full of back-to-school backpacks (at a screaming deal for $9.99).  She came up to me holding one that was black with glittery silver stars and metallic straps.

I was so overjoyed by her selection I said, "OK, you got it."

I even started to get out of line at Starbucks.

I think I spoke too quickly.

Or maybe it was too eagerly

because she instantly changed her mind and went back for another look.

She thought maybe a doggie one would be better (knowing Charlie would love it).

Then she came back with a black backpack with skulls and neon green.

Darn it!

Charlie tried to tell her how much cooler the star backpack was.

Her response?

It was classic Elsa.

"You guys are trying to trick me into being a girl."

Then the second metaphorical punch,

"It's not going to work."

So, my five year old little girl with the long toasted marshmallow colored hair, with curls, will head off to kindergarten carrying a black backpack with skulls and a neon green handle.

She certainly has her own sense of style.

Who am I to stifle that creative self-expression?