Revisited.

The hubby's kidney stones - they're ba-ack.

So no report from the trenches until later.

Peaches and camping.

I've spent most of my morning watching a baby feed himself. Not the most exciting way to spend a morning, I'll grant you that, but it is very entertaining. I watched those chubby little fingers chase peaches across the highchair tray. He was so focused on his agenda, his toes were curling and his tongue was sticking out if his mouth. His fingers would grab a piece of peach, and the food would squirt out of his fingers. Slimy things, those peaches. The boy, however, was determined, and would not let a little peach get the best of him. He focused on one piece, never letting up until he had gotten that specific piece into his mouth. Then he would choose his next piece carefully, selecting the largest first, and the scrawny pieces last. It seemed to me to be so much work just to get a few pieces into his mouth, but obviously it was worth the effort. He hummed a happy little mmmm sound while he gummed the peaches. Tasty things, those peaches.

I envy the baby's determination. If eating something turned out to be so much work and such a challenge, I don't think I would eat that specific food again. And that goes for more than just food - if anything is that hard or takes that long, my focus gets shifted to something easier and quicker. I'll take the easy way any day.

-----------------------

The other children are playing 'campout' upstairs. It involves sleeping bags, dress up clothes, and plastic dishes. Oh, and wooden food. And a general mess of gargantuan proportions. The mess, however, is worth it, because they are playing peacefully. The kids can get into such little snits over the most trivial of things. Now that it's too hot to be outside in the afternoons (hello, heatstroke) they get very cranky about being stuck in the house. I get cranky too. The difference between me getting cranky and a 3,5, or 6 year old getting cranky is that I don't hit and push. Much. (Joking, no need to call child protection services.) Yesterday afternoon we had several emotional breakdowns. I wasn't sure we were going to make it until 5:30 when the other two get picked up for the day. I'm just glad that no one was hurt in any way and thankful nothing in the house was broken. That's what I consider a successful day. Keep your fingers crossed for today.

The cycle that will never be broken (unless I yell and threaten)

This is what I hear on a regular basis: (imagine a whiney voice accompanying all requests)

"Mom, can we go outside?"

and once outside, this is what I hear:

"It's too hot. Can we go back inside?"

then 10 minutes later, this is what I hear:

Can we go back outside?"

and then, once outside, I hear:

"It's too hot. Can we please go back inside."

and it continues, over and over and over again all day long.

Baked.

My kids are getting dark. They spend a lot of time outside and at the pool. No matter how much sunscreen I coat them with, their skin seems to soak up the sun. And I guess it's genetic, because my skin does the same.

However, that doesn't mean I am pleased with their tans. On the contrary, I am very horrified about the fact that their skin cells are being damaged every time they step outside. I try my hardest to keep them in the shade and covered in sunscreen. But the damage, it keeps happening.

The other day my daughter looked up at me, looking very pleased, and stated that her skin was getting darker and darker. I was flabbergasted by her pleasure. And immediately I took steps to stop her misguided love of sun damage - or tanning as you sun-lovers might call it.

I told her that the darkening of her skin was actually the sun cooking her skin. Every time she goes outside, I informed her, she is being cooked. Well, I think that the cooking analogy might have scared her a little. She looked at me, with a very frightened look on her face, and said, "Cooking me?!?"

So score another bad parent point for me. Now I've made my daughter envision herself as the main dish served on a big platter with a little parsley garnish on the side - after she's been thoroughly cooked, that is.

(I seem to subscribe to the school of thought that thinks this: if a little bit of healthy fear is good, well, then let's go ahead and scare the shit out of them so it can be that much better. Um, mission accomplished.)

Carpet lint and espresso.

Last night I had another bought with my 2 am insomnia. I get it now and then. I wake up in the middle of the night, and can't fall back asleep no matter what I do. And then, if I do finally manage to get back to sleep, it's always about an hour before the alarm goes off, which just royally pisses me off.

So in honor of my lack of focus and sleepiness, here are just a few random observations:

• The same baby who turns his nose up at chicken vegetable dinner will savor carpet lint like it is a delicacy. You will have to pry it out of his mouth while he screams and kicks and frantically turns his head back and forth so he can thwart your efforts to remove the precious carpet lint from his mouth.
• The little girl who is an angel all morning will go and whisper instructions to the 3 year old on how to torture her brother by repeatedly yelling his name in a shriller than shrill voice, thus ending her morning of being an angel.
• The fact that you are trying to cut back on caffeine will make you desire a double shot of espresso even more that you ever thought possible.
• The fact that you are trying to eat healthier will make you desire double chocolate brownies even more than the espresso.
• The rain outside will force you to have to find things to entertain 4 children who never want to do the same thing at once - and you will work your ass off. Darn rain. What, exactly, are the odds that one of them will get hit by lightening if I put them out in the rain to play? Not that I want them to get hit, mind you, but just that I'm trying to weigh the pros and cons of kicking them out of the house for a while.

I'm thinking she'd fetch a good sum, if we can keep her quiet long enough.

Blogger has been giving me problems today. As in, it wouldn't let me log in, and then when it did let me log in, it laughed in my face when I tried to create a new post. Okay, so maybe it didn't laugh at me, but I sure did feel like it was. Therefore, anything I was going to tell you was driven out of my mind around 10:00 by my shorter-than-short attention span.

I do remember wanting to tell you about my trip to the theater. It was the first time I had gone without kids in seven years. Seven. Years. That trip was way overdue. And I had fun. And I loved Clerks 2 with all my Kevin Smith loving heart. (If you can't stand foul language, do not go see that movie, all I'm saying.) After the movie, we went out to eat. At Macaroni Grill. And I had the most delicious Chicken Scallopine ever. Ever. It was so good, I ate more than I ever should have. All that, and we were home by 6:30. (What can I say, we're party people.)

This morning my daughter told the mother of the baby I babysit that she feeds him Gerber snacks when I am too busy playing games on the computer to feed him. Oh. My. God. Maybe you should go back and read that again. She told the baby's mother that I play games on the computer and let a 5 year old feed the baby!! When she said it, I was just flabbergasted. And the mom either didn't process what my daughter said, or just ignored it, because she just went on with the conversation. Meanwhile, I wanted to yell, "Liar! Liar!" at my daughter and make her fess up that I have never once played computer games while the kids are here! Even when I'm on here typing, the kids are either in the same room with me, or sleeping. Sometimes they are watching TV. But never do I rely on a 5 year old to feed them while I merrily play games. (I only do that when it's just my own children. They regularly fend for themselves.) (Kidding.) (Kinda.)

Sometimes I want to take off my daughter's head and give it a good shake. Because, obviously, something is loose in there and her brain is not working. At all. I love her, yet at times, I fantasize about her black market value. Lately, it's been more of the latter.

She's not bossy, and I bought crackers.

This morning:

Me: "You sure are being a good friend this morning, (daughter's name)"

Daughter: "Yeah. I'm not being bossy at all today. I'm only bossy sometimes. A lot."

Me: *chuckle*

Daughter: "Okay, here's what we're going to do...."

And the bossiness began. But for a few moments, a few blessed moments, she was being a good friend to the 3 year old I babysit. (I really need to come up with pseudonyms for these kids!) She was helping him get Hungry, Hungry Hippos set up and even thought of a solution to the problem of keeping the little balls away from the baby. (She set up a pop-up house and had him play the game in there while she and the baby played outside the house.)

----------------------

Last night I went grocery shopping for the second time this week. It seems like I am doomed to go at least twice a week no matter what I stock up on the first time around.

This time it was laundry detergent that I this-close to running out of. And as we all know, running out of laundry detergent is like daring fate not to take a knock at you. If you run out of detergent, and figure you'll just go to the store tomorrow because you've got plenty of clean clothes, then of course your children will spill an entire glass of grape juice on their white shirts. Never fails. Anyway, I digress...

I went to the store and got the detergent. Also, I picked up several other things we were in need of - including those orange peanut butter crackers. You know, the cheese crackers with peanut butter in the middle. Honestly, I had never eaten them in my life until I moved down here. Apparently, they are a food staple where my husband is from. They call them "nabs". (Don't ask me why, I couldn't explain it to you, but that's just the way it is.) I find them handy for when you don't have time to make a meal, and you need something portable and quick. (I'm not going to tell you how many times I've eaten them in place of something nutritious.) Oh boy... digressing again.

I picked up the biggest package of crackers I could find, patting myself on the back for making such a wise decision in getting the extra-large-family-size. (We're an extra-large-family-size kind of family.) And even though my husband complained that they weren't Lance, I was still proud of my purchase.

So imagine my surprise, when last night I opened a package to have as a snack, and found that instead of peanut butter-y goodness inside the neon orange cracker, there was cheese. At least, that's what the package called that light orange squishy goo inside the cracker. I bought the damned cheese crackers filled with cheddar cheese instead of the cheese crackers filled with peanut butter - *s-word*.

And what did I do? What any other person who hated those darned cheese-filled crackers and was faced with a serious cracker-buying error would do - I ate them.

Hey, I was hungry. What did you expect?

Happy and Hungry.

After yesterday's post, I thought I should lighten things up a bit. I feel like I should clarify, lest you all think I am a shell of a woman huddled in a corner weeping silently. Because I'm not! (Not lately, anyway.) (Ha! I jest.)

Sometimes, I get it in my mind that I need to vent. So I vent a little. Then all's well. Because I vented, and I no longer have to think about it. That's how I work. I do not dwell, nor do I even brood (much.) I'm the type of gal who feels unhappy for a minute, when all is crazy around me, then I get distracted by something shiny or pretty (or my personal favorite, clean) and I'm happy again.

So fear not my good internet friends - I am not going to lock the kids in a closet and throw away the key just so I can be alone for a little bit. Nah, I'm just going to drink my coffee, and then we're going to paint. And do something with that egg carton I saved for the sole purpose of doing something craft-y with. Maybe, also, we'll go outside before the crushing heat and humidity kills us all.

Oh, and I think I'll eat breakfast. Because the baby is starting to look all yummy and delicious to me with his chubby little legs and puffy little cheeks... marinated in a little garlic and oil... mmmm... hmmm? What? What was I saying? Oh yeah, I better go eat.

I'm a loner.

Once upon a time I had lots of time. Time to myself. Time to do whatever I pleased, be it clean the house, read a book, watch TV, or even just sit.

Then I had kids. And my time was gone.

Then the kids reached an age where they could entertain themselves by playing in their rooms or the playroom. And it was so nice, but they were still there all the time.

Then they went to preschool. My oldest went until noon, 5 days a week. My youngest went until noon, 3 days a week. And while I did cry when I first dropped them off, it was so nice to have that time again. Time all to myself. (It was only 3 hours, but 'only 3 hours' is like manna from heaven when you have little kids.)

(And while I worked off and on during this time, it was always part time, and I always managed to have the time I craved.)

When we moved here in November, I had a good deal of time to get settled in, unpack, and just be in our new house. But my daughter was with me the entire time. She didn't resume preschool (for many reasons) and it drove me crazy after a while.

And now, now that I babysit kids, and my daughter is still here, and my son is out of school for the summer, I have no time. No time to let my mind wander. No time to let myself relax and do whatever strikes my fancy. No time that is mine alone. And I miss it so much.

I have come to the realization that I need that time for my sanity. I am a solo being - introverted and quiet by nature - and I crave that solo time. It is really hard for me to constantly be listening for children, to constantly be interacting with someone. It is very stressful on my mind, and consequently, very stressful on my body. I have been sick more often, tired all the time, and I get cranky. Very, very cranky. It seems to me that someone is always asking something of me - whether it's help they need, or just attention - and it is a strain.
(Yet I feel as if I should tell you that I enjoy children. I enjoy their laughter, their thought processes and the way they view things. I would much rather be working with children from home than be working full time in an office somewhere. That would surely be the death of me.)

Hopefully the strain on my psyche will lessen when school starts in the fall and (ohmygod) both of my kids will be in school. Until then, just know that my psyche is barely holding on. Just understand that if I don't keep up my standard of friendliness (or cleanliness, for that matter), it's because some days I am barely holding on to my standards, period.

I just never really knew how much I craved that solo time. And please don't call it 'me time' because when I hear people say that it makes me cringe. I don't know why, it just does. I don't want to spoil myself in any way. I don't want a manicure, or to go shopping - I just want to be alone. To not be listening and to not be needed. I don't want to talk to anyone or solve any problems. I just want to be.

It would have been more fun had the bottles contained ketchup and mustard.

I decided it would be fun to take the kids outside and let them go wild with water, water guns, and squeeze bottles. Yeah, squeeze bottles. (We're fancy around here.) Here's my son, armed and dangerous:

(The water shoes he has on are 2 sizes too big, can you tell?)

And then his sister armed herself too:

(And while she was squirting her shoe, he got her good!)

Then she got smart, and grabbed a container that allowed her to throw a whole lot of water at her brother:

(She got him right in the face!)

Then he got smart, and grabbed the SUPERSOAKER:

(Not pictured: the 3 year old I babysit ('cause he's not mine, ya'll, and I can't show his picture here!) who also had a grand old time with the water and ended up thoughroughly soaked. And his little brother, the 10 month old, who played in the exersaucer and laughed hysterically whenever anyone got splashed.)

Too hot to handle.

Today is supposed to be the hottest day of the week. I may even hazard a guess and say it's the hottest day of the year. (But I'm not positive on that one.) So what on earth am I supposed to do with 4 children?!?

I know, I know, your first thought was: TV, lots and lots of TV. But I'm not so sure if that will be the answer to my prayers today. You see, there are 3 very distinct opinions here on what we should be watching on TV. And that's not even counting my opinion, because, as the sole adult, my opinion does not matter. (And the baby can't yet tell me his opinion. But I'm sure he has strong ones.) I can't just leave the TV channel on, say, Nick or Cartoon Network without someone complaining, loudly. And frequently. And did I mention loudly? They can't even come to a consensus over a movie. Any efforts on my part to smooth the way ("We'll watch this one now, and the one you want next! Everyone gets their way! We are happy!") are met with severe resistance, even from the person who would be getting their way, because, I mean, it's not them making the decision, it's an adult. And surely any decision an adult makes is just crazy talk.

I'm also wondering exactly how long I can bear them playing "peacefully" upstairs. For while they are being "peaceful" they are also making a mess of gargantuan proportions. A mess that will be cleaned by me. (Oh, they say they cleaned, after hours of nagging, but, really, they just made a quick once-over. They know that mom will be back up there soon to get the place in order.)

And...well, crap. This entry will be continued later. Or I'll write a whole new one about how I killed one of my children and solved part of my problem completely.

Because my husband called to make sure I was okay since I haven't written on my blog yet today.

So...

How are you? Good? Good.

Sure is hot out there. Hot where you are? Yeah. That's summer for you - hot.

Mmmkay - that's all I've got.

Really, um, I've got nothing to talk about. So, you know, just passing through to say 'hi'. Enjoy your day. Take care. Keep cool. And see you tomorrow.

Daughters.

"There is a tone of voice that she takes with me that makes me want to pick her up, cradle her gently in my arms, stroke her hair, and then put her in the blender on puree. This tone of voice says that she fails to understand how I remember to breathe, what with the enormous burden of stupidity I carry, day in and day out."

Mir, over at Woulda Coulda Shoulda, has a daughter just like mine, evidently, because this is how I feel too when my little angel (and I use that term loosely) uses that tone of voice. And that tone, oh goodness, that tone, is enough to drive a woman crazy.

What my inner 12 year old loves:

Whatcha doing on July 21st?

Want to come babysit my kids?

Because I want to go see this:



Or maybe you'd rather go see it with me?

If so, anyone else wanna watch my kids?


(seriously, a cameo by Ben Affleck and Jason Lee makes me so happy I giggle like a 12 year old girl with a crush)

A bunch of nothing turns into something.

I just want you to know that I tried.

I tried to think of something remotely interesting or even kind of informative to tell you today, but I just couldn't. I've got nothing.

I thought I might tell you about my daughter running around last night yelling, "Pork! Pork! Pork! Pork!" and how that made me giggle like the 12 year old I really am. But I really couldn't make that into a whole story.

I also thought I might talk about how I ran out of coffee filters and tried my darndest to rinse out the used one from yesterday and use it again. Which, for those of you who may think of trying this, is a f*cking stupid idea and it ended up folded over onto itself and there were grounds in my pot of coffee. The coffee that I wanted so bad. Then I figured that story would just make you think I was a desperate woman who may be in need of an intervention. So I'll skip the details on that one too.

Also, I considered letting you know that I thought I was having an anaphylactic reaction to my antibiotic last night. I could have sworn my throat was closing. So I took some Benadryl and went to bed. (What, that's not the proper procedure when you think your airways are going to swell shut?) But it ended up just being an itchy throat. Hee hee hee. So, you know, not much of a story there either.

I guess I'll just let you know that I'm feeling better. My throat is not hurting nearly as bad. And I have a little more energy than before. Speaking of energy, I had no idea that this strep throat thing would knock me on my ass. For instance, I had to rest after cooking dinner last night. I took the kids to the postal center to check the mail, and am now feeling like I hiked the Appalachian Trail. But the good news is, I am getting better. And even more good news is that the kids are playing nicely together, which gives me a bit of a break from my job as a referee.

(Well, lookey there, I did end up telling you a little something, didn't I. No applause necessary.)

Confession is good for the soul.

Have you ever checked out this site: True Wife Confessions?

It leaves me alternating between 'Oh my God I can't believe these people feel this way about the people they married' and 'Yowza, you are an evil woman' and 'Thank goodness I'm not in your situation' and, occasionaly, because it's rare to see something positive there, 'Awww, you are a lucky woman'.

But, um, if you are a man who is insecure about your relationship, then you may not want to visit that site. Just saying.

And then, if you love to read confessions of people you do not know (or maybe you do!) then also visit PostSecret. It's done in a really cool way (so artsy!) Sometimes that site leaves me alternating between feeling uplifted and feeling very, very sad. So, you know, if you're the delicate and sensitive type (which I am so not, right honey?) then you may want to skip that too. Otherwise, it is very interesting.


What does that say about me - that I like to read other's confessions and secrets? Bah, nothing bad, I hope. I just figure it means I'm nosey.

(And I am. Very, very nosey.)

Other uses for Vodka.

The other day I posted about my throat hurting. And I got a very nice comment from Meryl giving me a few tips and a 'hope you feel better soon'. Thanks Meryl.

But, um, if you didn't check out that comment, do it now, and then come back here. Go ahead. I'll wait....

Okay, did you read the one that said this: *Vodka, used on the outside and on the inside! And plenty of vitamin C! Now, tell me, what exactly am I supposed to do with the vodka on the outside? I get the inside part - drink it, right? But, um, am I supposed to rub it on me somehow? On my throat? (Gosh, I hope it's my throat she was talking about!) Is there something I've not known all these years that includes using vodka on the outside of your body?!? If you happen to know, please share the knowledge, because I'm really not sure, and my mind, it is going haywire trying to process this.

Hand me the coffee and step away quickly.

Elleana's body: "Hmmm. How can I torture her even more than before? Oh, I know, I know... I'll make her throat hurt even worse than yesterday. And, because it's just darn fun, I'll make her tired and lathargic too."

Elleana: "Unnnggghhh. Miserable... must sleep... can't sleep... kids... everywhere kids. Unnnggghhh."


Edited to add at 1:49 PM: Two words for you: Strep. Throat.
(Just got back from the doctor's office. I can't imagine where I got it from, because I don't know anyone who has it. The only place I can think of is the gym. Goes to show that going to the gym may not be so good for me after all.)

Who's the idiot?

Overheard a few minutes ago:

Daughter saying to little boy I babysit who was whining after falling down: "My daddy said if you're an idiot you get hurt a lot. You must be an idiot because you sure do get hurt a lot."

Thanks, hon, for sharing that bit of wisdom with our daughter. And I'm so very glad that she has chosen, out of all the good, smart things you say, to repeat that one statement. Let's hope he goes home and repeats that to his parents. Also, let's hope he tells them that he learned that from Ms. Elleana.

(I was being sarcastic there, in case you thought I was serious.)

Can't stop shaking...

My throat is hurting. Badly. And I'm not liking it one bit.

The one thing that seems to make it feel better is hot coffee. But, man, I really need to get ahold of some decaf, because I've had enough coffee to make me feel like I'm coming out of my skin.

Holy super-caffeinated woman, Batman!

So that whole cut back on caffeine thing is going to have to wait until I die from caffeine consumption, or my throat feels better. Whichever comes first.

Mid-year's resolutions.

I'm trying something new. Well, new, kinda.

I'm trying to eat better. As in, choose healthier foods. I know, I know, you've heard that one before. But it's my latest idea.

(A lame one.)

What brought this on, you ask? For starters, I still have a little bit of weight to lose. And I'm so scared of getting diabetes (my health worry du jour.) I have diabetes risk factors (hypoglycemic... having babies over 8 lbs... among others) and can legitimately worry about it. So I've decided to take baby steps and gain control over my diet. (Ha! As if I have control over anything.)

In my quest to ward off diabetes, I am willing to try lots of things. I am willing to take supplements, exercise, and a few other things. But, um, give up sugary and starchy foods? Are you crazy?? I'm not made of steel, people. So you see, my diet overhaul is already off to a rocky start.

Another area that I need to overhaul is my caffeine consumption. This morning my husband saw my pot of coffee brewing and said, "That's a whole lot of coffee for just one person." To which I replied, "I only drink 3 cups, 2 in the morning, and one in the afternoon." Then, being an observant and wise person, my husband said, "Yeah, but those coffee mugs the size of your head are more than just one cup." And, um, he was right.

Now why didn't I ever think of that? Why did it never really occur to me that when I fill the pot up to the 6 line, it means I'm drinking 6 cups of coffee?!? Add a few Diet Cokes to the mix, and yikes. Holy caffeinated woman, batman!

(Add 'cut back on caffeine' to the 'cut back on sugary, starchy foods list'.)

There's also the little matter of the brownies I ate for breakfast. And a snack. And also maybe lunch. I know what you're thinking - how is this woman still alive? - and, really, I'm not even sure how I'm still functioning either. But I'm sure I'm not at my best. So I'm going to cut back here and there. And keep up my exercise (because I'm doing really well at that and I am strong as sh*t now.)

Maybe, just maybe, I'm going to get myself healthy.

Or healthy-er, at least.

Out of the mouths of babes.

We have a new nemesis in our house lately: cuss words (or curse words, depending on what you call them.)

My kids went to the playground with the kids across the street and their mom. The next day, when my daughter was just hanging out with me, she told me that my son said 'shit' at the playground. And my first thought? 'Oh shit.'

So the theme for the next few days was 'What is a cuss word'.

Here's a snippet of a conversation we had in the car recently:

My son: "What bad words do they say on the Green Day CD?" (we have American Idiot, and let the kids listen to it in the car, but I won't play it when other children are in the car with us because of all the times they say "f*ck"

Me: "Um... a word that rhymes with luck."

My son: "You mean shit?"

Me: "No, but that's a bad word too. Please don't say that again."

My son: "Mom, shit is a bad word, right?"

Me: "Yes. Don't say it again."

My daughter: "What is the bad word they say on Green Day?!?"

My husband: "F*ck, okay, it's f*ck. Now just don't say it."

My son: "Yeah, you shouldn't say it. It' s a bad word like shit, right Mom?"

Me: "Yes, but don't say that."

My son: "What? Shit?"

Me and my husband: "Yes!"

My daughter: "And f*ck. Don't say that either."

Me: "Right. Let's just say the f-word and the s-word, okay?"

My daughter: "Like silly. That's an s-word."

Me: "No. Well, yes, it is an s-word, but you can say that word. Just call the bad words s-word and f-word when you are talking about them or telling me what someone said. Please don't say them any more."

My son: "Yeah. Don't say shit anymore."

Me: (banging my head against the dashboard out of sheer frustration) "Yeah, sweetie. Don't say that anymore." *sigh*




(I was going to title this post, 'Don't f*ck with me, you little sh*t' but I thought that might be a little harsh. Don't you think?)

A milestone, of sorts.

That last post was my 100th post.

(Man, I sure do talk a lot.)

(Or, should I say, write a lot.)

But I'm finding a theme to my most recent posts - and that theme is: CRAZY. I'm not even sure if what I write is making any sense any more. During the day there are several things that happen that make me think, hmmm, this is good blogging material. Then by the time I sit down to write (usually the next day) I cannot think of what it was I was going to write about. I never can remember any conversations that were blog-worthy. And my kids say lots of funny things. Too bad I can't remember a word of it. (I think I'm just pretty lucky if I remember where I live and what my name is.)

Oh, but I do remember this: wait, I forgot. Was going to say something about my son, then got distracted with the kids, and forgot. See what I mean?

Anyway, happy 100th (101 now) posts to me. Can't believe we've come this far. Stick with me. Once school starts again, I'll be more in my right mind. (I'm hoping, at least.)

No pool for you!

Today I had to be a mean parent. And I hate it.

My son - my precious little angel boy - kicked the 3 year old I babysit. Twice. The first time I told him not to do it again or he would not be able to go to the pool today with Little T and his mom. So what did he do? Yeah, he kicked him again. And fairly hard too.

The whole incident was not un-provoked, mind you. The little boy was all over my son. (Oh, that sounded bad - he was tackling him, that's what I meant by 'all over'.) The little boy has a problem with boundaries and not grabbing and hitting other children. I've been working with him on appropriate behavior. So when my own children can't behave appropriately, it really makes me angry. And frustrated. When my son kicked the boy, it was not his only option. He could have just stood up. Or maybe even 'used his words', which is something I am constantly telling the little one to do. But no, my son, he kicked the pudding out of the boy. (Don't worry, he's okay. Just cried for a second, then was back to playing.)

But the damage was done. I had told him that he wouldn't be able to go swimming if he kicked again. And he kicked again. And now - no pool. I'm a woman of my word, and I have to show that I am serious. (Or I have to make them think so, anyway.)

Darn it though, I really hate that he can't go. I need to make my threats a little less, um, threatening, so that the consequences are not so bad. Why? Because this is what he'll be missing:

(Maybe next time he'll heed my words. Ha!, who am I kidding.)

Edited to add: After I wrote this, I changed him back into his swimsuit. I felt bad about not letting him go. And he was being very good. And what am I, some sort of disciplinarian or something?!?

Now I'm going crazy with the pictures.

Finally. Finally, I have put my picture in my profile. I had to enlist the help of my daughter to take my picture because I'm the family photographer, and there are no recent pictures of just me. I'm not too crazy about the picture, but I figured it was better than nothing. It is better than nothing, right? I mean, if you would rather not have it there because, say, it makes you feel kinda ookey, then I guess I can take it down. And for god's sake, do not, I repeat, do not see that picture full size. Then you can see every freckle and assorted other skin imperfections, and really, who needs to see that?

(Oh crap, I just made it so you actually are going to click it to full size now, didn't I? You just can't wait to see all that awfulness (is so a word!) can you? Just consider yourself warned.)

A Day at the Coast (now with pictures!)

For the Fourth of July, we went on a little day trip.

Here are the kids on the drive to the coast:

(Pay no attention to the date at the bottom of the picture. It seems the digital camera date feature is too hard a feature for me to figure out. This was indeed taken on July 4th.)

Notice the looks of anticipation on their faces. Also, notice how nice and clean and presentable they look. And also, notice the wireless headphones. Which meant they got to watch Chicken Little, and mom and dad got to listen to the radio and talk. It made for such a pleasant ride!

Next, we went to a Battleship. One from WWII - and it was very big, very big. We went into the bowels of the ship, got very turned around, and then could not find our way back out again. It was hot and still inside that ship, and once we came up onto the deck the hot, humid air had never tasted so sweet. When we were blocked off by various chains and DO NOT ENTER signs, I feared we would be required to go back down into the pit of hell (inside the ship) and thought I would weep if I had to go back down. Luckily, we found a way off. And I thanked the good Lord we were free. Here are the kids after the whole ship adventure. They were begging to leave at this point.

Our next stop was an Aquarium. It was small, crowded and very hot there too. But it was nice. And that's basically all I have to say about it.

(Notice how hot the kids look.)

After that picture was taken, the whole family went back to the van and changed into their bathing suits. In the freakin' minivan! I had never done that before, and would not normally recommend trying to dress in an automobile, but we were desperate, and the beach was right next to the aquarium, so it was desperate times. Then we went to the beach.

(Insert beach picture here.)

I forgot to bring the camera with us from here on out. So the tour in pictures has come to an end. But let me say, the kids loved the beach. This was surprising to us because the previous times we went, they didn't even want to walk out on the sand. This time, however, they not only played with the sand, but they also went into the water! Next time we go to the beach, we are getting a hotel room and staying at least overnight. It was that fun. And the kids were so good. They hardly complained - and they had plenty of opportunity to do so.

Hope you enjoyed your day - and now we're going to spend today trying to rest up. It was an exhausting trip. Some of us may be just a teensy bit cranky. (Oh who am I kidding - all of us here are very cranky and now I'm going to go consume more coffee that any single human being should ever consume. Cheers.)

Caution: Work Zone

As I write this, my house is being torn down. Piece by little piece. I am alternately holding my hands over my ears to block out the noise, and holding them over my head to protect my very life. The demolition crew consists of very tiny hands and very loud voices - all aged 6 and under. But don't let their size fool you - they are very effective.

Tomorrow, however, I will be basking in the glory that is the beach. Hopefully, my troubles will seem far, far away. (Or my children will hate the hot sand, and complain about the car ride there, and be hot, and tired, and want to go home.)

Happy Fourth! Enjoy yourselves.