Classical Capers

It's spring break which is, in my four days into it opinion, should be called the revenge of public school employees week. In my day spring break was Thursday and Friday and I was happy just to spend two days sleeping in and avoiding spring cleaning projects my mom dreamed up. Now it's a looong week of too cold to let them loose outdoors, to much spring fever to put up with them in the house. I just got Christmas paid off I'm not racking up major expenses to go on vacation so I'm stuck trying to figure out cheap day trips that can entertain a three year old to a seventeen year old.

Wednesdays brilliant idea was a simultaneous paint ball for the older boys, park for littler ones extravaganza. I started the day determined to exercise thus I dressed appropriately in a tank top jacket and sweats. I ended up going to the bank, blogging and breaking up fights till after noon when my sister-in-law came to visit Adorable Hubby and see for herself that he had survived his bumps and bruises. Her boys wanted to join us at the park so she ended up with my three youngest and her three headed for the park while I set off in my Suburban to get paint balls, compressed air and friends with my four camouflaged spring break warriors.

I was still in my exercise clothes, no shower and a very bad attitude which wasn't improved by yet another argument to deal with and a seventeen year old who wanted to crank Blue Oyster Cult or some other obscure classic rock at the highest decibel level he could coax out of my lame factory installed car stereo. In my grinchiest, Mom's winning this round way, I proclaimed, " My car, my stereo, my music!" as I choose a classical CD with at least three variations of Pachabel's canon. I sat in proud, smugly silence while my boys endured the first few measures of Pachabel, "Ha, mom won this time" I congratulated myself. Suddenly Jacob spun around and said in his very best bad British accent, "I say Joshua, isn't this just the music to properly set the tone for our afternoon outing chasing ourselves through the hills blasting the bloody crap out of each other with paint balls?" I tried, I even bit the inside of my cheeks, but they caught me laughing at them the little comedians.

My awesome sister in law called about then and said she was taking the kids to her house because it was just two cold for the park and I could spend an hour or two doing whatever. Did I wisely use my time to excercise?? Yeah right, chocolate, Figi water and a nap in the car, Ahh Spring Break with seven boys.

Bumps and Bruises

A couple weeks ago I checked on my three youngest who were playing outside. I found them in the driveway with the new Matchbox cars they got for Christmas. Oh how cute, you say, they were driving their little cars around in the driveway; wrong, they were throwing them down as hard as they could then examining them to see what kind of damage they had done. I suppose this constitutes crash safety testing on a boy level or perhaps a scientific analysis of Matchbox cars and their components, heck, maybe they were checking for lead paint.
"Boys, No! We don't throw cars!" I yelled.
"But Mom, we're playing a game!" Explained Isaac, their self-appointed spokesman, as Adam launched his treasured Diego car into the pavement, then picked it up to inspect the damages.
"Stop, the cars will break!" I tried an appeal to logic.
"Mom, were not breaking them we're just giving them bumps and bruises" Isaac reassured me.

The reason I have been gone for a while is that on April 8th, my Adorable Hubby was in a rollover accident. I'm happy to say that he is not broken, just suffering from some big bumps and bruises. Thanks to God for his life and thanks to all who have shown so much love. Life wouldn't be worth living without him and all of our incredible family and friends.

Dude!

Yesterday I ran out of paper plates and was forced to use my Pyrex plates. I know, I know kill a tree? save a gallon of water? it's a dilemma. Everyone was at school except the two littlest and their little cousin. I was taking a Pyrex plate with three hot, hot dogs on it out of the microwave when it slipped out of my fingers hit my freshly shop-vacuumed floor, sweeping is way to much like work. It shattered into a brazillion pieces covering a 20 foot radius, and made an impressive, shattering glass, noise. I quickly stepped through the glass to grab the shop-vac. Joseph came running down the hall, "Dude! he exclaimed, obviously impressed with the loud crash.
"Dude!" I yelled, putting up my hand in the stop sign.
"Dude!" He explained, pointing at the shoes on his feet.
"Dude!" I threatened, pointing him back down the hall.
"Dude!" he muttered, rolling his eyes as he turned to go.

Thank you Disney for making communicating with boys so easy and effective.

Eatin' Vegies

Joseph walked up to me this morning eating a sugar snap pea. "You know Mom," he says, "I don't like these," he takes a bite.
"Hardly any kids in the whole world like these," he confidently proclaims as he takes another bite.
"They really don't taste very good," he takes another bite leaving a tiny little piece.
"Mom, do you like these?" he asks.
"Yes, I love them, I think they taste delicious," I reply.
"Well, I don't like them," as he takes the tiniest bite, "Do you want the rest?" he offers me the last little sliver of Sugar Snap Pea.
"No sweetie you can finish it," I smile.
"OK, but I don't like them," he finishes the pea and leaves.

This child is so healthy I am considering the possibility he was switched at birth. Anyone out their with really great eating habits and a junk foodie kid?...hmmm, sorry were keeping him, he's just so freakin' cute.

No More Elephant Burgers For Me

You absolutely must watch this, you won’t believe your eyes.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_LHoyB81LnE

Absolutely incredible, proof we share the Earth with other sentient beings; so stop eating them, please if you have not done so already!

I got this email today, call me an evil meat
eating masochist, but it made me laugh.
I don't ever remembering eating elephant, though
come to think of it, that last streak I had at
the Sizzler was kinda gamey.

I also have to chuckle a little at those who think
that just because they don't have the same organs
as us hoitey-toitey sentients that fruits, vegies,
grains and legumes aren't capable of feelings
and emotions.  I have spent a lot of time in my garden
and I promise a tomato is just as emotional as say a
chicken.  If the red juicy object of my salivating
desires could jump off it's vine and run uttering
little tomatoey alarm cries it would.

I did gain a better understanding of painting
as a form of therapy and recreation.  If only
elephants could make paper, paint, easels, brushes,
and teach art classes those rogue teenage male
elephants could act more like...rogue, teenage, male
humans...OK, never mind I'll give up elephant, and
no more, monkey, dolphin or kitty for me even if
they can't paint.

Vicious Cycle

I can't think of anything witty or funny or tender or newsy, so I'm blogging for no reason about nothing. I seem to be on a quest to regain all the weight it took me two long years to lose. At the rate I'm going I'll have it all back on in another two weeks. The fear of returning to the old body has left me so depressed that all I do is eat, it's a vicious cycle not unlike a menstrual cycle or a unicycle or a feline cycle (cat chasing tail, or licking fur, coughing up fur ball, licking fur). I have noticed that during the two years I did well and lost steadily I didn't spend as much time thinking about my weight and setting goals every morning only to blow them by noon, give up and eat everything in sight planning on the next day to start. It's so depressing to think about this let alone blog about it, sorry. I'm going out to plant pansies maybe that will help.


.....Four six packs of pansies and a 3 mile walk later, feeling much better thanks; exercise and gardening the cure for the common doldrums.

Girl Trouble

I know I say I want a girl. I know I have purchased girl outfits for the daughters of friends or random nieces. I know I say that I think it's cute that they care how they look and actually choose clothes they like based on some instinctive desire to be pretty. I even claim to be intrigued by the idea of girl toys, cute little purses, backpacks filled with miniature animals who each came with their own tiny accessories or dollies with blankets and bottles. I know I almost have myself convinced form time to time but I must confess despite the occasional longing for pinkness in my life the girl toy aisle is a scary place for me.

The other day I was at Wallmart picking up a few things when I remembered that I have two little nieces with b-days that I've either just missed or will soon. So I think, "this is your chance to be really organized get those gifts and get them mailed". So motivated by the thought of actually being organized for once and by the fact that I had no boys to annoy or distract me I put my head down, muscled past the bikes and transformers, the end caps filled with Bionicles and super heroes and the Matchbox cars. I marched past the unisex two and under rows until, there it was, pink, girl toy, paradise I could count the times I have actually been on this aisle using relatively few body parts. I pause, take a deep breath and turn my cart resolutely down the glittery, pink, princessy row.

I make it two feet by only using peripheral vision, these are little girls, four and two, I think I can safely pass the... feather boas, beads and make-up, for the.. umm, little lady of the night? without a direct glance. It occurs to me that I not only have to think about what the girls might want but what their mom and grandmas might think. Boys are easy, "oh, look a car and it doesn't have to be assembled, great gift." I pause in front of a row of Bratz? My head turns quizzically to the side, is it just me or are these baby aliens with lots of hair, make-up and a trendy teen wardrobe? OK, Bratz are out. Across the way are Barbie's, uhh who knew there were so many princess Barbies, I think I gave these little girls princess Barbie's last year and danged if I know which ones so...moving on. Ahh little purses shaped like...a bug? bunny? forget it, I at least want to know what species of purse I'm giving. I push my cart a little further down the row, oh look baby dolls I walk past a box on the floor suddenly at ankle level I hear Maa, Maa I jump out of the way, while bending to see if I hurt the baby, back into the stuffed animals and start a bottle drinking duck on a quacking frenzy. Somewhere in the mound of stuffed animals a kitten is meowing piteously and I'm at the end of the row facing some miniature cabbage patch babies, I grab two with names that I can kinda pronounce and run.

My escape from pink purgatory leaves me in front of the Transformers, panting and glancing furtively over my shoulder. I reach out a shaking hand and grab a transformer, cars that turn into robots, now that I can handle, I throw it in the cart for my nephew because I know what boys like and I know I probably missed his birthday a couple months ago and I know I said I want a girl but....