My next "thing".

Back when I was pregnant with our first child, I painstakingly prepared the nursery. Which included a mounted T.V. for those late night feedings. It's important to note that I love T.V. Even before the discovery of TiVo, Mike and I were known to juggle 10+ VHS tapes and numerous VCRs throughout the house, so as not to miss an episode of Friends. Or ER. Or Dawsons Creek.

Yes I said it. Dawsons Creek. And I would still watch it daily on re-runs if I could, so suck it.

And when the blessed child finally arrived, I would lumber into her room at least twice a night to serve as her personal cow, and I would turn on the T.V. And of the 100+ channels that come with basic cable, I would say at least 60% of those stations played one of three things:

Actual music videos. They DO still exist...they are just given the ever popular 2-4 a.m. time slot.

Infomercials for Girls Gone Wild.

Infomercials for Windsor Pilates (featuring Daisy Fuentes).

Not kidding.

So as I sat there in the dark, 40 pounds overweight, with a stomach that was, literally, a bowl full of jelly (is that really what Santa's stomach is like? Because, if he's overweight and a little pudgy, wouldn't his tum feel more like peanut butter or bread or ice cream...something a little more, solid?)--I began to think that I really wanted to get back in to shape. And then I wanted to get my new, hot self down to Fort Myers Beach and party like a rock star, only to sign away all my rights when I stripped down and passed out on a pool lounger.

Kiddng.

Not so much about wanting to get back to my pre-baby bod. Which was only 10 pounds overweight. I would tell Mike EVERY morning, just how much I NEEDED Windsor Pilates. All this to say that I am kind of a sucker for the next, best thing.

Particularly if that next best thing happens to be really pretty and sky blue.

So, I am off of my Windsor Pilates kick. I'm nothing, if not practical...and well, we all know those videos were just a fad.

But now...

Now...

I NEED the Madsen cargo bike.

NEED I tell you!

Do you see this thing??? The bucket! Oh, the bucket. I am absolutely positive that the one thing that can motivate me to push a bike (of my own energy and strength) is this awe-some cycle. And for $1,300, I'm sure the muscles and the stamina are included.

Because I am 100% confident that I will use it. Even if it's been years since I've pedaled...well, anything. And the weight of four small children...minor detail. Nor does it happen to matter that we live at the top of a pretty big hill. Which means bad things any direction you go.

Pretty sure all is possible, if it's sky blue and $1,300. That's all I'm saying.

flower headbands

So one of the things I was so distracted by at Hobby Lobby this week was the 50% off sale on fake flowers. Because of Jen's post a few weeks back (see here), I had the bug to try some cute hair accessories for the girls...

This was trial and error,but I've got it now, and it is EASY-PEASY. Along with the flowers, I bought a half yard of stretchy cotton (WHY can't I think of what this is called...you know, the stuff t-shirts are made of that have a little bit of give in them???). Anyway, that stuff. A half yard will give you enough to make 15 of these...it's a lot.

I figured out how wide I wanted the headbands to be and measured the girls head's for a snug fit. And then I just sewed them together. There is slightly more to it than that (not much)...if you sew you know how to hide your seams...right sides together, leave a small opening and then flip the whole thing right sides out. If you don't, that sounds like alien language...and I apologize. Really, it's one of the simplest things you can do, with a basic knowledge of sewing.

All this to say, attaching the flower was the tricky part. As I learned, the easiest way is to take the whole thing apart...which, for me, meant cutting the base off and removing the center of the flower so that I could sew the flat petals directly on to the headband. Once those were on, I hot-glued the flower center back in place. I tried to attach the whole flower, but the point on the backside of it makes it all kind of awkward.

So, there you have it. A whole headband for...$1.25? Success!

Call me crazy.

I'm not sure why, but ever since I can remember, I've given the house a good cleaning right before leaving for vacation. It seems a part of the natural routine.


Do the laundry.


Sort the laundry.



Pack the bags.


Clean the car.


Scrub every bathroom, change the sheets, clear the countertops, sweep the floors, put away all random crap.

Funny, since I don't live in that state of clean. But it exists, in my absence. Hmmm.

And then for fun, I went around the house snapping pictures of the "mess" I am referring to. And by mess, I am referring to the PILES of stuff I seem to accumulate. Everywhere. As well as the general dirt-and-grime sort of slobbery. Pictures will only reference the piling...amoebas and general dirt parasites are hard to catch on film.

So. This is what my house looks like, on any given day. Except when I am on vacation, apparently. Come to think of it, that's probably why I go on vacation. So that the house gets cleaned.

This year, I have formulated a new plan--and that is, to pack FIRST, clean second. Rather than stressing about it all up to the very last second, I figured I might as well feel prepared to be away from home. And then worry about the state of my house...which, I might add, becomes a complete disaster 2 minutes after we return home and unload our crap.

Mike is at the ballgame tonight, leaving me a free night to work...and to freak out about how much there is to do. We'll call Mike my mood stabilizer. Because on top of it all, I wouldn't be my crazy ol' self, if I didn't bite off a huge (gigantic) crafty project for myself.

I think vacations make me crazy.

Treasure storage.

We are in the age of "treasures". And by treasures, I mean any stuffed animal, little trinket, penny, wrapper from an old lollipop, half of a plastic Easter egg, random beads, measuring spoons, markers, squishy pool toys.


You know, the usual stuff.

We are also preparing to leave town, so.....

I combined my children's love of crap with a plan to get them excited for 14 hours in a car! This year, I decided that they are going to pack a few things on their own--mainly, all the random toys/junk I just can't seem to keep up with. Not to mention all Lovies and bowling pin kitty's and purple geckos (Big J's animal of choice).

These are the bags for their stuff.

You can probably tell that this craft was so easy, I can't really take credit. First we went to our beloved Hobby Lobby to select our bags and buy a pack of fabric markers. I'm sure permanent markers would work just as well, but ours are getting a little dry, so I opted for something new. Crayola makes a box for $4.99...not too bad.

I also personalized them a little with those iron-on letters...never used them before, but have to say, they work great! Once the names were on, it was all up to the kids to "decorate" their bags. The girls were much more captivated with this (shocker), but I think the little mice in the boys heads are spinning their wheels thinking about what they can fill their bags with.

And really, I wanted this to be about getting ready. Learning how to be prepared and plan for yourself. Thinking ahead.

Not to worry. I am packing all clothes and essentials. Because if they were in charge of underwear or shoes or toothbrushes...well, that would just end badly (and expensively) for me.

Riding along in my automobile.

Fun times tonight on the golf course in back of our house. Which, of course, is closed today...or else we would be putting our children in serious danger of head injuries.

Today would also be the first time we realized that the kids can be near the pond (which sits in the middle of this hole) without GREAT fear that they are going to fall in. That's comforting.




Golf courses with a slight slope are also excellent places to learn to roller skate. FYI.

Oh, I just love this. I am pretty sure my Big J is in a coma upstairs, based on the number of times he pushed his Fred-Flintstone car up and down the slight hill of this hole. Lived here almost six years and have never once brought yard toys on to the course. It's like we've stepped into a whole, new, awesome, world.

Went to Hobby Lobby tonight and got way side-tracked. My purpose was to let the kids pick out some supplies for a project we are tackling tomorrow...instead the sale signs and all the pretty, sparkly, crafty things distracted me.

I did get the stuff for our project. And the supplies for 5+ projects I have no time to tackle in the next 6 months. And when I do have the time around Christmas (because that is TOTALLY a non-busy season), I won't be able to find this stuff.

Sigh.

I am also having a slight issue with grosgrain ribbon. Well, I'm not sure if it's the ribbon's fault or the stores that stock the ribbon.

But.

It appears that navy, polka-dotted, grosgrain ribbon does not exist in this city. Which is AMAZING to me, because I actually saw this exact ribbon in every shade of the rainbow. Except navy.

Anybody have any suggestions as to where I might find this? Hobby Lobby was a major letdown...and I do not use those words lightly. There is Hancock Fabrics, which is just two doors down, however, I was already there twice today as that is where I realized I was missing my credit card. Which happened to be at the last location where I used it, two days ago.

My choices were to drag four children, including a screaming, whining, hungry Little J to Hancock's for the THIRD time today. Or go home.

I chose home. And the navy, polka-dot grosgrain ribbon eludes me.

Cups.

Any guesses?

Let me preface by saying that I kind of hate water. But I do recognize it as necessary for life.

During my pregnancy with the triplets, my water broke with our son Caleb at 12 weeks. Contrary to what you are told when you are full-term and your water breaks, I managed to stay pregnant, and at an incredibly high risk for all kinds of complications, for 3 more months. In those next 13 weeks, it was strongly suggested that I drink a lot of water.

Water swallowed by yours truly, would naturally help to replenish what was lost when my water bag broke. Except that it would also continue to gush out, as that fragile little bag surrounding unborn babies does not heal. Well, not when you've ripped a gigantic hole in it.

So, in addition to practically drowning myself with tap water every day....while I lounged on a Lazyboy for 14 hours straight...I began taking a large glass of water to bed every night. Somewhat necessary, as I would wake up to strong contractions, without fail, every night, somewhere around 2:00 a.m.

The only thing that would stop them was water.

However. I would also go straight into labor with a full bladder. I really couldn't win.

Old habits die hard, apparently. Because ever since the Fall/Winter of 2004, I have carried a cup of water to bed. Even if I'm not thirsty. Even if I hate water and would prefer to take a Diet Coke (but realize that would be perceived as horribly unhealthy and that, potentially, I would get no sleep).

This is the current state of my nightstand. Yup, probably 2-3 weeks worth of cups. Now it's kind of a fun game to see where I'll place my next cup, and yet still be able to see the time on the alarm clock. Also pretty proud that there hasn't been a spill!

Perhaps now you'll believe me when I say that I am not a clean person by nature.

Also, I thought you'd like to see an update on the planters we planted earlier in the summer:

For a closer look, see below. Yup! That is a D-E-A-D plant. Please don't miss the matching dead plant in the pink pot above, OR, the dead plants in the plastic six-pack (on the right edge of the picture), which died before they were ever actually given the chance to thrive.

Knowing me, that looks about right.

Dear Jon Gosselin,

Really.

Have your Us Weekly. Have your weekly hit-show and all of it's rerun glory. Have every news channel watching your every move. I have four kids, so I don't have time for that crap anyway.

But People Magazine? That's low. Now you've invaded my personal space and you've brought your little 22-year-old girlfriend with you.

Step. Back.

Do you KNOW who reads People Magazine? Married housewives with kids, who feel better about reading this smut when articles on everyday heros and rare-disease survivors are also included. That's their niche--sympathetic, nosy women.

The list of subjects to which we will sympathize: extreme weight loss, unexpected death, victims of serial killers, animals saved from burning buildings, celebrities with poverty backgrounds, any kind of cancer, infertility, rap stars that die tragically, unexpected teeny-bopper heart break, innocent men sent to prison for crimes they didn't commit. Oh and families with s--t loads of kids.

Not included on this list: divorcing your wife and running off to Saint Tropez with your 22-year-old girlfriend. While leaving your ex-wife with s--t loads of kids.

That looks bad, my friend. Real bad.

But you don't care! You're free! Free to live the life you missed by having those miserable kids and that nagging wife! Free to travel the world and have a "fun" girlfriend who "won't make [you] do something." Free to sip champagne on yachts and meet with clothing designers!

News flash. That is not the life you would have had without your wife and kids. That is the life that P. Diddy or Puff Daddy or Sean Combs or whatever-name-he's-going-by these days has.

Sidenote: we DO NOT sympathize with child-less travel OR designer clothes we can't fit childbearing hips into anymore, either. FYI.

Listen. I know that marriage is tough. And that having someone verbally berate you in public or constantly question your ability to function without drooling can be immasculating. I can't argue there. Trust me when I say that I will think twice about nit-picking my husband's ability to dress our children (even though he believes stripes match with stripes) or care for them in my absence.

You have succeeded in your campaign of fear. That my husband will sport gi-normous diamond earrings and leave me for a hotter, less-stretch marked, size 0, twenty-two year old. I will never scold him for cleaning out the fridge, ever again. Ever.

But for the love of all things holy, I may just have to track down your travel itinerary and follow you from island to Mediterranean island with MY FOUR KIDS if you don't leave my People Magazine alone. I'm pretty sure TLC would be on board for the kind of ratings that would bring in.

Consider that my campaign of fear.

How to feed a mildly domesticated, wild duck.

Here is the part of my week where I tell you about how I baited my children with bread and threw them at angry wild birds.

Kind of.

We like to save the end of our bread loaves for feeding the ducks at a nearby park. Which is a GREAT idea, if I don't get sick of little plastic bags with two pieces of crust in them and ditch the whole little-house-on-the-prairie persona that I like to play-pretend sometimes.

But today it was 70 degrees and we had something like 7 pieces of end crust piled in my bread basket (which is currently overflowing with potatoes and bananas). Cha-ching.

So we head to the pond at the park, where I happen to spot those good-for-nothing Canadian geese, who will take your fingers off, I'm pretty sure. All this based on the hisses I received from the resident goose of my old office parking garage back in '00. They may be very nice as a species, but that little bastard was mean (and I suppose I have never gotten over it).



So we stalked out a quiet spot on the pond, near some of the ducks we came to feed. Opened the bag of stale bread ends, which apparently is the trumpet call to all of duck kingdom. There was no time for fear.

That's a lie.

There was plenty of time for fear, as I witnessed my children PETTING wild ducks and having whole bread slices plucked for their little fingers. And the more we withdrew, the closer they came, on all sides.

But once I identified the main perpetrator as a large white duck (whom I have named Gus), and tricked his little bird brain by flinging bread as far as my under-toned arms could send it (you are no match for me, Gus!), I noticed the rest of the gang was quite lovely apart from their ring leader. And felt I saved my young children from a small battle with duck bullying.

And then as if on cue, a pack of ducklings arrived all small and cute-like, making me wish I had brought our whole loaf of real bread, because only seven fuzzy babies would make me even consider returning to the store this week with my own pack of ducklings.

And I kind of wonder what would happen if a duckling ate its body weight in bread. I mean, that can't be natural.

It's nice not to be melting in the July heat, but really. There are only so many wild animals we can feed before someone loses an appendage.

A few of my favorite things.

Lots of stuff cookin', but nothing that is officially done and show-able. Really, I am having a hard time readjusting to life after a weekend away...and so I feel a bit ADD-ish these days, as I try to put my self back together. Only to leave for vacay in 9 days, and replay this whole scenario all over again.




Such is life.




So. While I am getting my act together, I thought I would share a list of my favorite art/craft supplies, which I try to have on hand at all times. And I write this because sometimes people gasp in wonder that I can pull a craft out of the air! NOT TRUE! I just happen to have all the pieces available..which makes all the difference. Hey--I have an entire pantry full of stuff and no idea how to put a meal together...but, give me some crafty supplies and I can entertain a six-year-old!


Been thinking about this list for some time, and I think the general idea is..."If I were stranded on a dessert island, what 10 craft items would I want with me?"




Disclaimer: Do not let the "stranded on a dessert island" part fool you...this list is in no way practical, or capable of building shelter, producing water or supplying food (unless said food is made of paper mache and mod podge). And if I was, indeed, stranded, YES I WOULD want something to craft...I'm not so much for the fishing/shelter building/water purification responsibilities. Now that we have that out of the way.



Mod Podge. No shocker here. I love it and I find new uses for it everyday...honestly, it just gives a nice shiny look to everything, it's a glue the kids can handle and it dries amazingly fast. Anything the kids paint (for example, flower pots), I shellack with mod podge and it takes it up a level. If you know what I mean.




Acrylic Paint. Now...I wrestled with this one a bit, because acrylic paint is non-washable if you don't get to it soon enough. For that reason, I really don't let the little ones paint with it too often, unless we are doing something I plan to keep for years (yes, I know this is means almost everything) or gift. Everyday painting is done with the water-soluble stuff. However, I believe the vibrancy is great and the color palate unmatched (as there are HUNDREDS of shades by numerous brands available...for a very low price).







Grosgrain Ribbon. This is more of a finishing touch on gifts and such, but I use it a lot when making spontaneous little girl jewelry. Toss on a shrinky-dink charm, and you've got a bracelet, or a necklace. I am particularly fond of grosgrain ribbon with polka dots. Shocker.




Scrapbook paper. Lots of it. In all shades and patterns that speak to me. I used it a while back for the torn-paper collage I did with G (see here), but also like it for making last minute gift tags, or to put cute borders on pictures that the kids draw, that we'll often keep and frame, or give to grandparents...it dresses up plain white paper, is what I'm getting at. Occasionally I do scrapbook, but seeing as I am still working on Big J and L's baby book, you can see this is not high priority on my list.


Felt. I heart felt. It's cheap, it's easy to work with, and you can do a lot with it! I made hair clips for G earlier this year, I've made appliques for t-shirts and fun clothes for paper dolls that G has decorated. For about a quarter a sheet, I just like to have these on hand. I thought about including fabric on this list, but honestly, I think felt is the most multi-functional. Granted, you are not going to want to make a dress out of 25 cent felt...but for everyday use, this stuff can do a lot.

That's five...enough for tonight, more to come tomorrow or Thursday. And I put that disclaimer in there, because you never know what weird thing my kids will smear on the walls, or what great adventure they have brewing in their crazy little heads (for which I will come along to clean up the shrapnel that is inevitable).

These girls.

This past weekend I got to see these girls.

Okay, well not these girls, exactly. These girls 10 years later with jobs, and babies, and husbands, and graduate degrees, and some suburb livin', and crazy bosses, and gluten allergies and au pairs, and some big city living. And perhaps less gold lame and polyester. I should note that we did not actually attend college in the '70's (much as we ROCKED that style for a night).

Nor did we attend college in the inner-city, as the next photo might suggest...based on our clothing and drink choices. No, we were not always wardrobe challenged--but we took EVERY opportunity to dress up in some sort of theme. Excuse me. I meant to say, any inappropriate, hideous theme.

There was even the night where we channelled Santa, the elves and his reindeer...in front our our entire sorority. On Christmas Crush date night, which meant, there were also boys there. And we sang and performed a choreographed dance to "Sleigh Ride".

I'm sorry you weren't as cool as us in college.


Maybe it was the general theme of shenanigans and ass-making. Or the fact that we lived as closely as caged mice for three years. Or that we are all so incredibly different. Or that there is not one part of me that is intimidated or insecure or unsure around them. And there is never a second when I hesitate to be around them, though it only happens in a group on yearly occasions (if that).



There are so many inside jokes it's like another language. There are so many REALLY good stories, that I can't believe they are all ours. We have travelled all over the place to be together...which works because many of these gals live in cool cities. And in years past we have packed in the activities in our short weekends together.

But not this year.

This year, we met in Chicago, arrived at the hotel on Friday afternoon and left only for meals and an hour of shopping. ALL WEEKEND. We were always together, all the time, doing not much of anything...and it was bliss. Probably one of the best weekends we've ever had together.

I love these girls...so, so much. They are each individually, incredibly awesome. And I don't talk to them everyday. In fact, I barely talk to any of them regularly. Not a surprise, as I HATE talking on the phone. Which is also part of the reason why these friendships are strong...they are not dependent, in any way, on my ability to pick up a phone or send a birthday card.

I can't put my finger on it or explain it in any kind of way that makes sense...except that perhaps we lived together at a time (college) that was pretty scary and important for all of us. And we stuck together through it. And then we realized how much we really loved those years together when we graduated and struggled apart.

Because they are security, and comfort and loyalty to me. Which I now know are incredibly rare. They know every bit of my back story and require no explanations. Girls, what a great weekend...so great, that leaving always feels a little like the heartbreak of driving away from the Alpha Phi house back in '98.

Here's to 2010!

Ho, ho, ho...green giant.

Just thought you should be aware that my child possesses the "Hulk" gene. As evidenced by these toes, after nap time (today, Tuesday). So, if you are reading this, it is in my absence because my sweet little L has mutated into a jolly green giant, and is perhaps toting me around in her very large hands, in a manner similar to the way she loves bowling pin kitty.

Kidding.

Seems our L smuggled a green marker into her room at naptime. Did a pretty good job of staying in the lines too (if you consider her skin one LARGE canvas). Not a mark on the sheets or blankets. Impressive.

I will alert you if she grows abnormally large pectoral muscles. And begins ravaging the town of Glendale in cut-off jean shorts.

Girl party.

I am so aware that they look nothing alike. These girls just happen to be two peas from very different gene-pods.

This afternoon happened to be one that could have been spent on any one of a million tasks and chores and jobs. Only, last night, G noticed me painting my toenails and quickly requested a girl party with L.

How can I deny that kind of request?

So, girl party it was. Dress-ups first. Nail painting next (no good pics of this as I was not about to snap photos with open bottles of nail polish within reach of my very feisty L, who pretends not to hear half of the words coming out of my mouth).

From nails to hair. Real old-school hot rollers, thank you very much.

What kind of respectable girl party would it be without some sort of crown??? Poster board, permanent markers, glitter and...you guessed it...mod podge...and the princesses are ready to be crowned.

The crown was a big hit with L, who happened to wear hers throughout dinner, dessert and sliding on the large yellow banana (slide) outside.

So, I am up late tonight trying to catch up, before our family heads in all kinds of different directions this weekend. Very worth it.

Thank you G and L for slowing me down for an afternoon.

What's large, yellow, fun and tacky?

Sorry to have kept you waiting. I know you are DYING to see our latest creation.

It's a little bit tacky. It's a lot long, though not as fast as it might appear on film. DO NOT FREAK--we are working on it and hoping to send children flying off of this thing with the speed of bullets in no time flat.

Oh, I should mention that it is also loved and adored by all the neighborhood children. Who have been around every day since it's discovery...they are doing a commendable job of coaxing G out of her shy shell.

May I present...the slide o' fun.

Wait, that sounds lame.

How's about "The Slippin', Slidin', Half-Tube of Adventure!"

Is it safe? Probably not.

Is it cute? Not yet.

Is it fun? Fo' sho.

My plans include a nice platform/tree house at the top. Polka dots will be involved, I'd imagine. I believe Mike's plans include attaching some climbing wall hand holds and calling it a day. He has no vision for decorated tree forts. Boo.

This is, of course, what has become of the big dead tree in the back yard. We traded one large tacky thing for another large YELLOW tacky thing. Yes, we are the class-act of the neighborhood. However, friends (and you know who you are), I am including this picture below for your benefit, as many of you have previously catapulted from the "Swing o' Death" that used to hang from the big dead tree...notice the hard wood running strong (this is the actual limb the swing hung from)!

So, while small limbs would fall with the weight of styrofoam and enormous sections of bark would rain from the sky on a daily basis, rest assured the the tree was STRONG! And perfectly capable of holding the weight of 30-year-old men who went swinging from our deck, and in to our yard.

I won't name names.

911 call and child abduction averted. Barely.

Funny, how, when I realized G was still alive--my first instinct was to KILL her.


Not in the strike-her-dead sense, of course, but in a wanting-to-obliterate-that-part-of-her-brain-that-told-her-it-was-okay-to-do-that, sort of way.


Let me explain.


Since it is summer, and today was cloudy, I motivated myself and took G and Little J (Big J and L are at camp) to Grant's Trail to ride their scooters. Important to note, I've never done this before.


Grant's Trail, for those not from the Lou, is a paved trail that used to be an old rail line. It starts two miles from our house, and sort of runs diagonally for 8 miles. It's great and flat, and except for the fact that it crosses several major roads in our part of town, it's so nice for the kids.


Or so I thought.


We scootered for about a half a mile, played on a small playground near the start of the trail, watched the cars on the highway, and then proceeded back. G has gotten pretty awesome on her Razor scooter, so she was zipping on ahead of me and little bits.



And after about 3 minutes, I couldn't see her. No biggie, she's cautious. She'll realize she doesn't see me and stop. At this point, I am fighting every part of my instinct that tells me she needs to be close. That I need to keep a tight grip on her.


I should have been keeping a tight grip on her.


After a few more minutes of no G sightings, I begin to think she's made it to the car and won the race against her much slower younger brother. Because at the age of six, EVERYTHING is a race and if you don't win, the rules can always be reconfigured in your favor to make you victorious by the power of opposites, or something like that. We approach the car and she is NOWHERE to be found. And I might add that the parking lot sits just off of one of the busy streets the trail crosses, as mentioned earlier.


But she's not bleeding in the middle of the road. And she is OBVIOUSLY not in the parking lot. I know, because I cannot see her, and I am screaming her full name.


And then I know what's happened. She's been kidnapped. Definitely abducted.


Because there is no way in H-E-L-L that she crossed the busy, four lane street. No, she didn't cross the street.


No.

No?

...NO!



Honestly, the thought of child abduction seems more possible than my timid six-year-old crossing a road of constant traffic. Without me. I am so sure about this, that I debate calling 911.


In which case, I am pretty confident that the nice police officer will tell me to check the next section of the trail. I am nothing but logical under pressure. So, I hoist a 35-pound Little J on to my hip and dodge traffic across Sappington--but let's face it, I am moving a little bit slower than a six-year-old scooter whiz.


At which point I flag down a walker and a biker who confirm that yes-indeedy, a cute little blonde on a scooter did pass them. Several minutes ahead of where we are standing.

Did I mention that the walker is accompanied by a large rottweiler with a muzzle? And for a minute, this kind woman was going to watch Little J while I sprinted (at my 10-minute-mile pace, no doubt), toward my runaway. Little J, however, SCREAMED to me that this was a bad idea--not sure if it was the rottweiler or the muzzle that did it for him--and so we re-brainstormed, and the kind biker zoomed back down the trail to retrieve my daughter, who was in the worst trouble of her short, little life.


And here is yet another test--would the kindergartner heed my advice on strangers and not follow this kind, but totally unfamiliar woman?


No, she would not. Ten minutes later they reappeared as Mike was trying to verbally decrease my heart rate. At which point, I am glad she willingly followed the good-samaritan biker, but also began thinking I am slacking in my parental responsibility to make sure that my children are afraid of everything (SOOOOO obviously the reason we are in this predicament to begin with...not enough fear).


I'm kidding. I will only ruin my children and qualify them for life-long therapy unintentionally...not on purpose.


Was she terrified? Freaking out? Thinking her mother abandoned her on Grant's Trail? Temporarily insane thus causing her to forget/ignore every lesson on NOT CROSSING MAJOR ROADWAYS????

Um, no. Not even one iota of scared. More irritated that I interrupted her killer ride. Dude.

I could have killed her. Hugged her and cartwheeled and squeezed her...and killed her for that kind of drama.

My little baby is all-growns-up...

...and will live forever as one of the best BLT's of all time. Yes, my tomato plant has produced ONE ripe (and tiny) tomato, which Mike and I split for dinner. Ummm. Tasty.

This is a short post, because, I am headed to my once-a-month book club, where lots of wine is consumed and there are few conversations about literature. Except if we are reading the Twilight series, in which case we could talk for HOURS about teenage vampires.

In the meantime, I will leave you with a picture of all things trashy that are happening around here. Let's just say, I'm sure our neighbors love us, what with our Christmas-tree burning party of '08 (on perhaps, the windiest of winter days), the tornado of bikes constantly littering our front yard and now...this. Well, not this...but the end result of this.


Cryptic, I know. But you know us. We are just plain weird and freaky. And you just never know what we'll do with a...tree.

Jacuques and his lunch.

Meet Jacques the Croc.

Pronounced Jock-the Croc, for those of you who don't speak frou-frou French animal mascot names.

He is the mascot of our church's summer Sunday school program.

And apparently he is an eater of young children. According to L, who screams and clings to our legs/arms/head/torso for dear life when ever she sees Jacques.

It definitely adds a Sesame Street-meets-Surviorman/Predator-type storyline to our church time. Especially considering that Jacques sits in the back of the service, presumably to scope out the tastiest and most holy of youngsters.

Her aversion to Jacques comes as no surprise. She is terrified--TERRIFIED--of any thing in a costume. I think this stems from two things: a nasty run-in with Fred Bird (the St. Louis Cardinal's mascot, for those of you not in-the-know) at our Church harvest party last October...whoa, L is really going to associate church with large, scary, child-eating animals...and her half blindness, which is not so helpful in regards to her ninja-like reflexes when trying to escape evil, French reptiles.

Well. She is technically blind on her right side. So I suppose that on the left she is all secret-agent-spy...on the right, she's a defenseless bunny.

Jacques even carries a bucket of candy, which my other kids cannot get enough of. Silly Jacques. That will win you no points with L, as she just learned to chew and swallow within the last year. We bribed her with candy for YEARS with no response.

Nice try, Croc. You'll have to be on your A game if you want to attract our little nugget.

This birdie is getting bigger by the minute.

Disclaimer: Do not make these. Let me repeat. DO NOT make these.

G received a fairy cookbook for Christmas, and we just got around to making a recipe out of it (thank you, cloudy summer day). I think there are maybe 5 ingredients in this recipe, so I figured it was do-able with six kids (we had friends over for lunch).

Mixed it up. Put it in the freezer to set the candy coating that holds the lo mein noodles and corn flakes together.

And from there I gained 5 pounds. At least. I don't even know how, but I cannot stay away. Addiction. Our recipe book called them birds nest (and looked more like birds nests, versus messy pink trash piles), however, I think they are also known as haystacks? Which means these babies have been around for awhile if they are known by many different monikers...and so it's possible I am just catching on, in which case, I will tell you to look back at my blog. I'm a little slow.

In many areas.

Other projects today: creating a small gift for G's swimming coaches, who have personally taught this girl to tap her inner fish. Make-up bags embroidered with their first initials, plus a little personalized thank you from G herself. A round of applause, definitely, for these gals who wrangle a group of six-year-olds (some younger) in a pool and actually teach them a life long skill. I mostly survive at the pool and pray for no drownings.

That's all I got! Thank goodness it's the weekend...lots to do and play with and create!

Introducing my big girl.

It's been kind of a big week for G. Today was supposed to be devoted to her mile swim and her last swim meet of the summer season, but...

We lost our first tooth!!! I mean, how many milestones can a girl have in a week????

And because this tooth has been hanging on by one gummy thread for quite some time (this morning it was practically upside down), I thought ahead and made a "tooth fairy" pillow last week. Once again, being a CRAZY hoarder has its advantages, as I happened to have the fabric I used to make G's crib bedding back when I was preggo with her in 2002. I love that I can usher her into the world of big girls, with a little, sentimental piece of her first days.

Can't forget the pocket on the back. Although G's teeth are so small, it's possible that they can get lost even in a pocket that's only 2 inches wide.

I can't let the day pass without also braggin' on her swimming and how far she has come in 6 months. When we started practice in February, I wasn't so sure she would even be able to dog paddle across the pool. And now! We are swimming the four strokes (freestyle, breaststroke, backstroke and butterfly) AND diving in to start. Amazing!


***A side note: these pictures contain many shots of the Algonquin team suit for 2009. It's pattern is so bright and busy it may cause spots in your vision and possibly induce vomiting. My apologies.

And here (below) might be the perfect shot of six-and-under swimming, and reason I have LOVED watching it this summer. G is the swimmer on the left that is passing by the swimmer taking a breather on the lane divider. On the right side is a swimmer who looks like he may be vertical in the water, and possibly drowning.


Simmer down. No paramedics were called. That's just what happens when these skinny little ones swim--they practically sink to the bottom every time they go down to take another stroke. Who knew the near drowning of the young 'uns could be so cute AND entertaining to watch???

Here's a serious backstroke in action pic. It's by far her best stroke, and her favorite too. I think being good at it has done fantastic things for her confidence when it comes to sports. And we've seen a little bit of her competitive side begin to emerge....

The well-earned ribbon. We've amassed quite a collection of these babies this summer, which I am so proud of her for, because she started this season not wanting to swim in the meets at all! In the six-and-under category, every swimmer gets a ribbon for participating. Next year it will be a bit more competitive, with only the fastest swimmers competing in each stroke and with ribbons only earned for placing 1st, 2nd and 3rd!

And last but not least, G did in fact complete the mile swim yesterday...that's 50 lengths of our club pool. Wow.

And I say that, because I would drown.

She was able to use a kickboard, which made all the difference in the world for her, but all things considered, she kicked (continuously) for an hour and four minutes. And never complained or stopped at any point.

Clearly, she surpasses my expectations ALL THE TIME! Especially this week, when her big-girlness is showing up in all kinds of neat and unexpected ways.

I love this girl.