Weeza

Books for Big Kids

2011-09-29T08:19:00.013-05:00

About a year ago I was having a tough time finding the boys books to read that weren't too easy or too hard and that would hold their interest. It seemed like it was hard to find books that weren't written for either little kids or pre-teens. Here are a few good ones I found for kids about age 7-10:

The Great Brain - This one took a little while for them to get into, but after the second chapter or so they were asking to read it every night. It's about a kid who is always scheming up ideas to get himself ahead and once in a while his plans help other people too. We have only read the first book in the series so far.

Beast Quest - These are a series of fantasy books that are each based on a different "beast" that the two main characters have to defeat. I couldn't tell you much more about these, but Jack really liked them!

Diary of a Wimpy Kid - These are definitely Dylann's favorite books. I catch him reading them in bed late at night when he's supposed to be sleeping and both boys have read them over and over again. There are five books in the series and they are easy to read with cartoon drawings throughout and lots of (gross and) funny stuff to keep kids interested.

Matilda - This was the first real chapter book Dylann ever read on his own. He loved reading about the tricks Matilda played on her mean and ignorant parents. Since then they've read a few other Roald Dahl books and loved them all.

How to Eat Fried Worms - They haven't read this one yet, but I have the feeling they're going to like it!

Farewell to Summer

2011-09-28T10:51:00.011-05:00

We had a wonderful summer this year and even though the boys only get 6 weeks off from school, it seemed like we got the most out of it. The kids and I flew back to the states for the first time in 3 years for a month long visit. I was hoping we could have a good "Minnesota summer" like I remember growing up and we really did. We spent time at a cabin near the lake, lots of time at Grandma's house, and made the trip over to what the boys call "the secret lake", which is a very pretty little lake that has always been a special family gathering place.

It was really nice to see everyone and to be able to stay long enough to not have to rush through the trip.

Shortly after we got back, we celebrated Helena's 2nd birthday with a teddy bear picnic birthday party. It was lots of fun, but we were all still very jet-lagged at the time of the party. Helena refused to even crack a smile for the camera!

Then last weekend we finally threw Jack's 8th birthday party - a month late, but oh well! He had his first sleepover and they had a blast staying up half the night watching cartoons and showering the living room with snacks. Nothing out of the ordinary!

We're having a little extra summer weather here in England at the moment, a whole week of weather that's expected to be in the 70's. One last hurrah before we're all wrapped up in sweaters and huddled under umbrellas!

January Thoughts

2011-01-20T15:53:00.014-06:00

may my heart always be open to little

birds who are the secrets of living

whatever they sing is better than to know

and if men should not hear them men are old

may my mind stroll about hungry

and fearless and thirsty and supple

and even if it's sunday may i be wrong

for whenever men are right they are not young

and may myself do nothing usefully

and love yourself so more than truly

there's never been quite such a fool who could fail
pulling all the sky over him with one smile

poem by e.e. cummings

To be continued...

2010-06-23T12:16:00.003-05:00

I just wanted to post a little note up here to say that I'm taking a break from this blog. I've never been great at updating regularly and now I'm just going to leave it for a while, until the mood strikes again (maybe after the summer). If you know me in real life, I'm sure you're already on my facebook, otherwise you can find me occasionally posting ridiculous nonsense on twitter. I'll leave you with this. Have a wonderful summer!

Forward we go

2010-04-20T05:17:00.020-05:00

It happened as it has happened two times before. Our baby realized that she could move on her own, after months spent lying in one spot on the floor. She's been trying to get moving for weeks, but has faced the predicament of all fairly new babies - she was stuck. In the beginning that was fine, she was happy to sleep and watch things pass her by. But as those first quiet months passed and everything became more and more interesting, the frustration began. It spurred her onwards to restlessly roll and writhe and push herself up, kicking her legs and squealing until she finally realized the magical combination of arm and leg movements that bring you forward. Her face lit up for a moment, but I knew that satisfaction wouldn't last. Babies are ambitious.

This is a bittersweet milestone. I didn't feel that way when Dylann and Jack were babies. When Dylann was a baby, I was so excited for him to start moving; to see what direction he would choose and what previously unnoticed parts of the house he would decide to explore. I had no idea he would progress from crawling, to walking, to climbing, to running within about 6 months time. A year later he would be riding a scooter and a year after that, his little red bike. Now he's 8 and has been riding without training wheels for years. He rides to the park on his own with his friends. He rides a skateboard, rollerblades, ice skates and desperately wants a dirtbike. He's constantly in motion. And it all started with that first little scoot on his hands and knees.

I don't even remember when Jack started crawling. He moved so quickly from crawling to walking, he practically skipped it all together. I wrote the date in his baby book, but I didn't ponder my emotions about it. There was no wordy blog post written to document it. He crawled to try to keep up with his brother, who ran everywhere he went. It's like Dylann tagged Jack when he was a pudgy little baby, stuck in place on the floor and said, "You're it!" And Jack has been trying to tag him back ever since.

Now we are watching our last baby wake up every day a little bit older and wiser than the day before. And although I'm excited to see what the future holds for her, I also just want to hold her close for 10 years and never let her lose her baby rolls and her nubby little nose. Every time she meets a new milestone, the universe sends me a message that says, "You can't hold on." You can't hold on to the fleeting moments. You can only look forward and be optimistic.

The world is a big place for one baby on her hands and knees. I just have to try to keep up.

A bird could build a nest in it and I might not notice

2010-04-16T03:32:00.009-05:00

Linsay from Midsummer Moon tagged me to participate in this and also gave me the sunshine award.

If there is one thing that I cannot resist looking at in a department store, it's the handbags. I am continually on the lookout for the perfect purse. It has to meet a lot of requirements in order for me to buy it. I have to be able to carry about 50 lbs. of junk in it, it has to go well with most clothing, it has to be made of soft, buttery leather, and it must rest on my shoulder and whisper sweet nothings into my ear. For the past two years I have mostly been using a coach purse that I bought out of the trunk of a car (sweet!) and it looks kind of like this:

It turns out what is IN my purse is a lot less attractive. Old receipts, candy wrappers, tissues...okay, I'm boring myself here. The must-have stuff in my purse is usually my crappy little camera, my cell phone (which may or may not be charged), my iPod (which also might be dead or dying), chapstick, a small umbrella, a few diapers and wipes, a playmobil guy with one arm, my dayplanner, a deck of cards, broken crayons, and a lollipop. And my purse has very few pockets so it is a giant mess and it takes me two days to find anything. I can also fit my laptop in it if I have to. Handy dandy!

Now, inquiring minds want to know...what's in your purse? Tell me everything. Extra points if you have a flask in your purse. Also if you participate, you get to steal the sunshine award from my sidebar and put it on your blog. Then pass along the sunshine!

Mommy Wants Vodka
The Only Girl
Quite Dear
From Here to There
Bombadee's Garden

Don't eat the beady little eyes

2010-04-12T09:01:00.007-05:00

We have a history of taking a lot of road trips. Over the years they have taken us from one end of the US to the other. Every few months something comes over me and I need a change of scenery. Immediately. It amazes me when I think about how far we've driven and how often we've done it. We've gone from Georgia to Minnesota, from Minnesota to Texas, from Georgia to Texas, and from Minnesota to Arizona, just to name a few. Minnesota and Texas pop up a lot because we have family there.

Normally the way it goes down is the boys spend most of the trip trying to kill each other in the back seat, while continually asking for food, and Donn and I try not to kill each other in the front seat, while continually throwing food at the savages in the back. There is also usually some kind of bathroom emergency at least once a day.

And there's a natural progression of everyone's moods as we go down the road. In the beginning everyone is hopeful, buoyant, ready for the long haul. In the middle we are all turning sour. And towards the end we are ready to drive ourselves off a cliff, but just before things get too dire, we arrive! And then all parties are happy and the world is a good place once again.

Since moving to England we have taken two road trips, both shorter than any of our road trips in the US, but just as difficult to manage because the roads over here are not very driver friendly. On our most recent road trip in February we drove to Spain. I planned it out like I plan out most of our trips. Last minute and by the seat of our pants.

It was a 16 hour drive from our little village in England to the tiny mountain village in Spain where we stayed. We drove across the entire length of France, which was pretty dull. We all yawned a lot. Our drive didn't go through any of the exciting parts of France, it was just mile after mile of flat land with an overcast sky and industrial buildings everywhere. And a lot of graffiti. In French, so that was exciting.

Crossing the border into Spain was fun. I made the kids all sing Never Been to Spain because we love singing together and being wholesome when we're not yelling at each other. Helena was in the back seat making farting sounds the whole way. She learned that just as we left for the trip, so she kept herself (and the boys) entertained.

The village in Spain where we stayed was about as quaint as you can imagine. I think the actual population was around 40 people. It was part of a string of little villages spread out along the Picos de Europas mountains.

The view from pretty much anywhere in the village was amazing. I really couldn't believe that there are people who go about their daily lives surrounded by that view. Truly one of the most beautiful places I've ever been to.

We saw quite a bit while we were there and managed to eat out a couple times, despite our children's requests to only eat items made out of reconstituted chicken formed into a nugget. I had paella with shrimp and octopus and some other sea critter bits in it. I'm used to dealing with shrimp that's already been cleaned, but these shrimp were looking at me with their beady little eyes. Tasty once you pulled their heads off!

Don't eat us!

Every night we wound down with a glass of rioja and Spanish tv. Reality tv is definitely more fun to watch in a foreign language. There was also some strange German helicopter rescue show that was always on. Germans dubbed over to look like they were speaking Spanish - only slightly confusing. People were constantly shouting "Ayudeme!" and then some burly German would toss them into a helicopter and away they'd go.

Our drive back to England was long and torturous for all of us. We got yelled at in French at a toll booth, didn't have cash to pay for our dinners on the ferry, someone (not going to name names here!) wet their pants, and we couldn't find the pounds to pay for the toll when we got back into england (we only had euro), but luckily they let us in anyway.

It's been about 2 months since we took that trip, so according to my calculations we should be due for another pretty soon. Where will we go? Depends which way the wind blows.

Sunshine

2010-04-10T13:34:00.006-05:00

When I looked at the sky
I saw a pale lit moon
That caught fire
Set the birds to their ribbon swoops
And turned the grass honey green
And greener still when you smiled

Spring has had a slow start here in England. It hasn't been unbearably cold, but not exactly warm either. Not really warm. At all. But this last week was gorgeous. Instead of making me happy right where I am, it has made me want to go somewhere really warm. Tropical. Somewhere the heat comes down from the sky and soaks right through you. Near a beach of course, to cool off. But the water can't be too cold either. Conditions have to be just right.

But for now - yipee, the sun is back!

The Birth of Helena

2010-04-05T07:38:00.008-05:00

A little over 7 months ago...

I was 3 days past my due date. I woke up at about 4:50 AM feeling strange, but that was pretty much a normal feeling for the entire last month of my pregnancy. It was late August and I had spent more than a few warm, summer nights up until well past midnight with contractions and general "weirdness." I would try to move things along, rolling around all over the floor with my pilates ball like some kind of sad cirque du soleil reject, or marching up and down our little country lane, so pregnant I looked like I had swallowed a watermelon whole and then eaten 50 lbs. of bacon and a milkshake.

At exactly 5 AM I started having contractions. Not a big deal, because I had been having them for weeks. But these felt different. Normally the contractions started out pretty weak and then gradually became stronger as the day wore on, finally becoming strongest when I climbed into bed. These started off strong. I had the feeling they meant business. "This is it!" I thought. "THIS IS IT." I called my friend April to come pick up the boys.

I paced the length of the house, timing contractions that were quickly becoming stronger. The boys rushed around, gathering all of their necessary items like 10 teddy bears, 500 legos, and 3 shoeboxes full of old corks. I didn't bother to intervene because I was too busy leaning against the table or the wall, realizing I was going to definitely be pushing a human being out of my body that day.

I wasn't moaning and groaning or yelling. I wasn't huffing and puffing. There were no lifetime-movie worthy dramatics going on (yet), and I had the feeling April and Donn were both wondering if this was really it. I thought maybe it would be helpful if I started shouting every time I had a contraction, or maybe flailing my arms or banging my head on the wall, but alas I could muster no such shenanigans. I just stood still and tried to become a sea of calm every time I felt another one coming on.

By 6 AM we were in the car on the way to the hospital. It was overcast and cool outside, a very typical English summer day. The radio was playing some annoying BBC Europop. I think it rained for a little while. I don't remember what Donn and I talked about during the drive. I just remember feeling focused and freaked out at the same time. Like maybe how a lemming feels before it makes the big leap.

When we reached the hospital I knew there was no turning back now. My day was going to get much more painful and disgusting from here. But I knew that somehow, by the end of that day I would have a daughter. I tried to focus on that and not on the fact that my insides were trying to strangle me. I waddled my way through the parking lot and into the front door where a man directed us to walk halfway across the world to where the labor and delivery unit was. I was actually glad to be walking because the contractions were easier to handle when I was up and moving.

Once we made it to the labor and delivery unit, the midwives gave us the hairy eyeball for not calling first. Technically, the policy at the hospital is to call first and then they will evaluate somehow, magically over the phone, whether you are actually in active labor. I had skipped that part because I didn't want to mess around trying to convince someone over the phone that my contractions were the real deal.

Things moved remarkably slow once we got to our room. They didn't even ask me to put a gown on right away. I think the midwife suspected I wasn't really in labor. It seemed like no one was taking me seriously because I wasn't wailing and rending my garments. I suppose it would have been useful if I had done that right away, but I was too busy trying not to have a heart attack or wet my pants.

We waited about an hour in the room, just Donn and I. I told him to put in the CD I made for the delivery room. It was all classical music that I carefully selected to be soothing/awe-inspiring/perfect to hold a new baby with. But I only chose one really cheerful song, because I didn't want anything that would be annoying. That song was Ode to Joy and I was hoping that it would play the moment Helena entered the world. If I were making the soundtrack for my life, that's how it would go. However, I have no idea what the hell was playing at that moment because of all the screaming. Someone was screaming. It might have been me. It might have been Donn screaming as I ripped his ear off. But we're not there yet...back to the muzak.

The first song came on. Donn said, "Hey, this is the song from the killing scene in Platoon." And I said something along the lines of, "Oh, blargity blah, uggggggg....never seen Platoon." Then he shot back, "What?! You've never seen Platoon?! That's one of the best movies about the war in Vietnam." And I laid there half-dead feeling like I very well might be starring in the killing scene in Platoon. So I said, "There are too many movies about Vietnam....rrrrrAAAAARARRRGG!" And that ended our discussion about Platoon.

Finally the midwife came to see how dilated I was. I was afraid I would not be dilated at all and she would tell me to go home and that I was a dummy. However, she assessed the situation and announced that my baby was barely being held in there because I was dilated to 8 cm. I was so relieved! Even though I knew that meant things were going to get very crazy very soon.

My only pain control option at this point was something the Brits call "gas and air." It is some kind of mixture of oxygen and nitrous oxide. I didn't need it right then, but about an hour later I was whacking Donn on the head and telling him to bring me some gas and air...or a crowbar to just put me out of my misery.

The midwife came in and gave me the mask to put over my face so I could huff my gas and air. She explained how to do it properly so that it "feels like you've had a glass of wine," at which point I almost gave up completely because a glass of wine would do me about as much good as a hug. But I gave it a chance. I huffed away into my mask and it made these weird gasping noises, so naturally I felt like Darth Vader. A big, fat, miserable, dying Darth Vader.

I had been waiting for my water to break on its own, but it wasn't happening. The midwife had offered to go ahead and break it for me and I finally took her up on the offer. Anyone who has given birth knows that things get a lot more intense at this point. Anyone who hasn't given birth, please take my word for it. I was so impatient for this part to be over, I kept asking the midwife "WHAT'S GOING ON DOWN THERE?! IS SHE COMING OUT YET?!" And she would reassure me that no, not yet, it's only been 30 seconds since I broke your water so just GIVE IT A MINUTE!

About 10 minutes later there was a lot of screaming and some grabbing and pushing and pulling and just like that, Helena was born. She was handed directly to me, screaming and perfect with an unbelievable amount of dark brown hair. I couldn't believe that she was here. All those months of pregnancy and waiting were over, just like that. I had three kids. I had a daughter.

The midwife told us her name means light. She hasn't stopped shining since.

A Cheeky Update

2010-04-03T06:01:00.013-05:00

Wow, this blog has become very neglected! I've sat down a few times and started to write posts about things we've been doing over the past few months, but obviously it hasn't gone anywhere beyond my draft box. I'm not sure why I stopped updating here. My only excuse is that life has gotten crazier than usual in our little nuthouse and this blog fell by the wayside.

So how is everyone out there? I haven't seen you in so long! You look great, by the way!

I have been moving along with my classes, working on the biggest class load I've taken so far. It was a little stupid of me to think taking 4 online classes at the same time would be manageable. I'm about halfway through and not sure if I will be able to pass them all. There just isn't enough time. And things like Helena's gigantic kissable cheeks, Dylann's incessant requests to play catch, and Jack's multitude of "projects" he wants help with always take priority.

Have you met Helena's cheeks yet?

As my friend very correctly put it, her cheeks precede her. And she has a smile that never fails to break through whatever crabby mood I'm in and turn my heart into a million tiny stars. She brightens all our days so much I wonder how we survived so long without her.

And my boys are busy growing up into little men. I look at them and try to remember when they were Helena's size, but it's impossible. I can't match the grown up boys they've become to the babies they once were. They are busy being real little people with their own lives who go to the park without me and advise me about what is cool (sports, weapons, killer zombies) and what is NOT (mom walking you into the classroom). I must admit, they are definitely cooler than I ever was.

In February we took a trip to Spain - not warm, sunny southern Spain where most people go, but cold, mountainous northern Spain, where no one spoke more than a few words of English. We didn't even run into any other English-speaking tourists during the whole trip. We had an amazing time, except for the drive back which was ridiculously full of crud. I started a blog post about it. I'll finish it one of these days.

I'm going to try to show up here more often. Please feel free to leave a comment or two as long as you're not a meanie. I hope your weekend contains the maximum amount of good times your cheeks can handle.

A Fresh Start

2010-01-07T06:31:00.014-06:00

I can't believe 2009 is over. It was a good year overall, at least towards the end when Helena became a part of the family. The first part of the year was kind of blah. We didn't know many people here, the weather was depressing, we were all feeling a little out of place. Now we're settling in here, getting to know neighbors and new friends better, the boys have made good friends, and the winter weather hasn't even bothered me this time around.

I have an idea this year will be better than the last. There will be some changes for us. Donn will most likely be retiring from the military in the fall and we are probably going to be moving into a smaller (and hopefully more updated) house. Helena will have her first birthday. Dylann will turn 9, which seems impossible!

I don't usually make New Year's resolutions, but I decided to come up with a list of things I can realistically accomplish. Here is my list of goals for 2010:

Read one good book every month

Finish 10 classes towards my degree

Cook one new recipe every week

Send gifts to people for no reason when I find/make something they would like

Make my first quilt (even if it takes all year!)

And I'm going to stop there. I could go on, because there are a TON of things I'd like to do, but these are the ones I can realistically stick with. This year is looking like a good one! I hope the New Year finds you also looking forward to what the future holds.

The Lonely Blog

2009-12-19T06:19:00.005-06:00

There's been a lot going on here over the past few months. We took a trip to Scotland. I just finished up the fall term of online classes and Helena is coming up on 4 months old (!). The boys have acquired a typical European obsession with soccer, but I am too stingy and/or lazy to sign them up for an actual team (think of all the driving that would involve with both of them on separate teams - blah), so they play once a week with their after school club.

Lately there has been so much Christmas-related stuff going on I can barely remember where we are supposed to be and when. But I love all the holiday stuff. Christmas in England is so fun. Here are a few pictures to sum up

the past few months:

An Update

2009-09-28T05:57:00.007-05:00

I had forgotten what life with a newborn was like. I mean, I remembered that the first few weeks at home were pretty rough, but all the details were lost. This time around it's been easier in some ways and more difficult in others.

I now spend the bulk of my time in sweatpants. It's a very cliche "mom" thing, I know, but suddenly there are a million things to do and getting dressed is towards the bottom of the list. I have the feeling for most people it's towards the top of the list - like most people get dressed right after they get out of bed, but oh well. I manage to put real pants on when I leave the house, so that's gotta be worth something.

I don't mind the lack of sleep so much this time around. I pretty much knew what to expect and I think when you start off the night not expecting to climb into bed and sleep all night, that makes a big difference. I now usually climb into bed thinking, "Please let it be three hours...or at least two." And I'm usually not disappointed.

Did you know I have two other children besides this baby? Where are they? What are they up to? Who knows. We now pass each other in the house like ships in the night. Hey. How's it going. Need a peanut butter sandwich? Okay. See ya later.

It's strange how Jack has gone from being my little tiny baby boy (he's 6) to suddenly NOT being the baby AT ALL. He now seems ridiculously huge. As soon as we brought the baby home, Jack grew up. He now weights 355 lbs and is a big giant man . I seriously wondered if I would ever stop thinking of Jack as my baby and just like that, I have! It's weird and I hope he doesn't feel bad about it, but so far there are no signs of it.

Dylann is taking his role as the oldest very seriously and I must say, he is great at it. If the baby starts to frown at all, or wrinkle her eyebrows, he REACTS IMMEDIATELY by alerting me to the situation (MOM!!! THE BABY'S UPSET!!!) and locating the pacifier. He is an awesome big brother.

We went the first two weeks of Helena's life with no pacifier because I was breastfeeding and the midwives here advise against using one. Anytime we left the house (usually just to go to the school) I felt like I was carrying a ticking time bomb that might go off any second. And I couldn't always whip out the boob, which was the only thing that would calm her down. Errands outside the house were done with the speed and efficiency of a military maneuver. We were continuously watching her for signs she was about to let loose and that was when things really got going - okay, we're at T minus 10, 9, 8....let's move, move, MOVE! We really couldn't

keep that up, so we wound up going with the pacifier. And although I would rather see her lovely face without a big plug stuck in her mouth, I cannot imagine life without it. Ain't no two ways about it.

To sum things up, this past month I have felt exhausted...amazed...completely disorganized...

And absolutely filled...

with gratitude.

Announcing

2009-08-31T07:26:00.003-05:00

Our beautiful baby girl Helena Patricia - born August 27th, 2009 at 11:35 AM

Still pregnant...

2009-08-17T10:32:00.007-05:00

Well, the 38th week has come and gone, which was the week I thought would be it. I've been having lots of Braxton Hicks/false labor/early laboring (whatever you want to call it) over the past two weeks and I figured that meant I was destined to go early. I haven't been having the midwife check to see how dilated I am, so I have no idea if these contractions have done anything at all - other than cause a few sleepless nights. Now I am only one week from my due date. I know it's a good thing for this baby to stay nestled in there as long as she needs to be, but we are definitely ready for things to move along! I spend most of my day walking around like Bill Cosby in this video, because either my back is about to go out or I'm rushing to the bathroom. Hopefully I'll be doing the Bill Cosby dance to the hospital sometime soon...

Blood and guts and gore!

2009-08-05T09:13:00.007-05:00

I have 19 days until my due date and I think I am losing my mind. I have been having contractions on and off for a few days. They come regularly about 20 minutes apart for a while and then completely disappear. Dylann was early and Jack was early, so every morning I wake up and feel "weird" in some way and I become convinced that I'm about to give birth. Then I think, gee, I should do the laundry and clean the bathroom in case I really am about to go into labor...so I don't have to worry about it later. But that would mean I would have to get up and move around, which is not enjoyable when it feels like a baby is hanging so low in your pelvis it might fall out.

I've been trying to distract myself with other things, like simultaneously watching a nature documentary and reading some crappy Michael Crichton book about gorillas in the congo that want to kill you. Also the boys are on summer break, so I have their constant wrestling matches and showering the living room with legos to distract me. And my understanding husband to say supportive things like, "I don't remember you complaining this much the other two times." HaHa! He's going to need a new schtick when we get to the delivery room!

Today I distracted myself by reading birth stories on some of my favorite blogs. Well, it was sort of a distraction even though it was all about BIRTH and BABIES coming out and OH THE PAIN! I have to put up a link to Henry's birth story from Finslippy because it made me laugh so hard I had tears streaming down my face and my kids kept asking me what was so funny or am I just stuck again. Every time I sit down a little too long in one place they ask me, "Are you stuck again??" No kids, just lazy! But thanks for your concern.

It was a beautiful, sunny day...

2009-07-18T09:48:00.006-05:00

The wooden bench outside looked so inviting, the giant pregnant woman couldn't resist. She waddled over and sat down. Then she realized she could probably lay down on the bench and put her feet up and it would be awesome. So she did. She was laying on her back with her feet up and from that angle the sun was so blindingly bright she couldn't open her eyes. About 10 seconds later, she felt something going on with her back. It gave out. She tried rolling herself one way or the other, but it was not happening. She was stuck on her back like a giant dying bug. After contemplating just giving up and taking a nap, she started calling for her oldest son to bring his strapping self over and yank her up into a seated position. But alas he was on the swing and didn't want to give it up or his annoying little brother would take his spot. And that would be unacceptable. So his mother continued to call him and wiggle her arms and legs uselessly like a helpless overturned turtle, while he continued to guard the swing. Finally he came over and as soon as the woman saw him she burst out laughing like a lunatic. She laughed so hard that tears came streaming down her face and the sun was slowly blinding her, so she couldn't see. While her children looked on, not sure if they should laugh or call the funny farm, she managed to sputter out that she was stuck and could someone please pull her up. It took about 5 seconds for them to haul her up and she was sitting on the bench like a normal person again, but the woman couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if she would have been home alone that day.

How will it be with one more thrown in the mix??

2009-07-10T13:13:00.008-05:00

I am now over 8 months pregnant...due next month! Still trying to convince myself that we're actually going to have three children, because it's a little scary!

With the two children we have now (you know the ones - I may have mentioned them on here a time or two before), I've begun to notice some differences in Donn's parenting style and my parenting style. I've always known that I'm more laid back than he is. I'm not sure if that's good or bad, but it's just the way things are. Having Donn home now from his deployment for over a year, a few specific things are starting to become clear.

When I'm home with the boys I tend to let them clutter up the house with toys until I can't stand it and then I help them clean up. Donn pretty much makes them clean up as they go along. If I go in the bathroom and the toilet is not flushed, I just flush it for them and I might say something or I might not. Donn will call them in right away to take care of it themselves. I think his method is probably better, but I've come to the conclusion that I'm just too lazy to be so on top of things. The house falls apart during the day, I've come to accept that. Sort of.

As an example, tonight I found Dylann's dirty socks stuffed behind the door in the bathroom. Here is my dilemma: Do I take the socks over to the laundry room myself or call Dylann in to clean them up, which will no doubt result in him trying to throw them at Jack (don't ask me how I know this will happen, but it will) and then there will be a bunch of running and laughing and dirty sock throwing until I can finally reign them in by repeating myself over and over and over again, getting louder and louder?

Kids never do things calmly. Or at least mine never do and together they egg each other on until they've both reached a level of frenzy. If you ask them to throw something away they have to run all the way to the garbage can, slide on the kitchen floor, make a slam dunk and possibly spill stuff on the floor, and run all the way back. Sometimes I'd rather just do it myself in the interest of sanity. I realize this doesn't teach them any good lessons, but it keeps me from developing an eye twitch.

Notice to Little Boys (And rowdy little girls)

2009-06-29T10:17:00.004-05:00

Please note the following:

1. Throwing rocks is pretty much never a good idea.
2. Climbing on things can end in disaster.
3. Hitting your brother or sister means they will probably hit you back. Don't start the cycle of violence.
4. If you're caught fighting with someone no one will care who started it, you will both be in trouble.
5. Never get too close to another kid holding a baseball bat.
6. Don't hold hands on the trampoline or you will eventually smack into the other person.
7. As soon as you yell, "Look how fast I'm going!" something very bad is about to happen.
8. Real baseballs are like flying torpedoes of death - stick with tennis balls.
9. If you mess with the bees, they will get revenge.
10. Superglue - don't try it.

Because we need more drama

2009-05-08T04:10:00.004-05:00

The boys have learned from one of their friends what it means to "put on a show". Now they gather costumes and props and rush around in hushed voices until everything is under control and then they want me to sit quietly and watch while they pretend they are a bat, a ninja, chuck norris, or a bankrobber. It's pretty cute. And highly entertaining for about 5 minutes or so.

I remember doing that when I was a kid with my friends or my cousins. We wrote scripts. We acted very dramatically. Our reviews were always fabulous, unless we accidentally ripped down the smurf sheets being used as curtains during scene 1 of Act 2. A minor setback.

I could be a little bit bossy. I remember doing a play with my cousins in the basement that we were going to make my aunt videotape. If they disagreed with something I wanted to do, I would react by forcing them to go along with whatever I thought, because I was full of kindness and understanding.

So far the boys have handled their disagreements about the details of the play in a much more straightforward way. Dylann does the shouting and Jack does the beating.

No matter how the show begins, it always turns out to be Jerry Springer.

From the Vault

2009-05-07T08:35:00.009-05:00

These are from blog posts I never published from the past 6 months.

Bird poop in the fireplace and salami handling.

There is a nest in our chimney. We can hear the birds chirping through the fireplace. Every so often a bunch of sticks fall down into the fireplace and I'm afraid at any moment that a bunch of baby birds are going to come plopping down. Then we'll rescue them and the angry parents will come flying out of the fireplace and attack us.

My least favorite job in the morning is making the boys lunches. There's something horrible about handling cold lunchmeat first thing in the morning.

I'm going through cat withdrawl. I am not a crazy cat person or anything, but we've always had a cat. We were planning to fly our cat here from the US this weekend, but they wanted to charge us over $1,000 for the flight and fees. Now whenever the neighbor's cat walks through our yard I want to run outside and steal it.

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Yeah, well, I wanted it to be funny...so there.

Last night when I was putting Jack to bed, I laid down with him for a while and he asked me to tell him a story about Star Wars. I would rather tell a story about just about anything else, but Jack always wants to hear stories that involve weapons and danger. I don't know very much about Star Wars, beyond the main characters names, so I made something up about Luke Skywalker when he was 5 years old. Jack kept smiling and looking totally into it, so I thought I was doing a pretty good job of making crap up, but just when I got to the part where 5 year old Luke has to battle some other kid named Damien from gamma quadrant 5 (I think that's actually from Toy Story), who has a gold light saber, Jack totally lost it and laughed so hard he couldn't speak. I asked him what was so funny about this very dangerous, perilous story. And he said, "THIS IS THE WORST STAR WARS STORY EVER!!! HAHA HAHAHAHAA!!!!" The end.

Give me all your food and nobody gets hurt!

2009-05-06T03:23:00.002-05:00

I've always been warned by people that my boys will eventually become starving teenagers that will try to eat the very house down around us. They will eat you out of house and home! They will eat and eat! You won't be able to keep the refrigerator full! Non-stop eating!!! And I believe these warnings, because I grew up around a lot of boys and witnessed the eating and the eating and the chompchomp gimme that burrito chompchompchomp.

But it seems to have started a little early. Dylann is 7 and over the past few months he seems to be increasingly starving to death. It's like living with a raccoon. He's always rummaging around in the cupboards and the fridge asking if he can have this or that and if I say no, he looks very sad and neglected and malnourished. I am continuously trying to think of things that will fill him up and keep him that way for more than an hour, but it ain't easy. Even after he eats an entire meal, he will be starving to death and wasting away two hours later. Peanut butter sandwiches and milk are my two standbys for staving off hunger, because they're quick and fairly filling. And yet, he can polish off 2 or 3 peanut butter sandwiches and a glass of milk without stopping to take a breath.

Meanwhile, he gains nary a pound. Well, I think he's gained about 4 pounds in the last year. He is growing taller and more hungry every day.

Our supplies are running low. The neighbor's chickens are growing anxious. The number of milk jugs in our recycling bin is threatening to bury the house.

I think it's his metabolism. He's metabolising and I can't keep up. Help.

I had a new car...

2009-05-05T06:18:00.003-05:00

Up until yesterday my car looked brand new. And it is pretty new, it's a 2008. However, in the span of two days it has become used. Yesterday I was driving on one of the little country backroads to our house when a white van came flying by and smashed my mirror to pieces. Of course, his mirror got smashed to pieces also, but maybe he should have MOVED OVER! On these country backroads it seems like half the time you encounter really polite drivers who slow down and move over and the other half it's these maniacs who go flying by like they have the right of way no matter what else is going on around them. Maniacs. Maniacs!

Today I drove the boys to school and then went to the grocery store. When I came out of the store and popped the trunk open, I noticed that there is a dent on my rear bumper. A dent where there was no dent yesterday, even after the mirror-smashing maniac incident. I have no idea if it happened this morning parked outside the school (probably) or at the grocery store. All I know is, I don't want to drive my car anymore. I want to buy an armored vehicle or a tank or something.

I have been in no shape lately to deal with car problems or any kind of problems at all. I can't help but overreact about every frustrating thing that happens. Everything is suddenly tragic. It's like I'm a toddler with no ability to step outside the situation and be rational. I don't know what is going on, but I blame it on hormones. Forgot my keys? Hormones! Bursting into tears because my favorite yogurt is gone? Horomones! Eating the last chocolate chip granola bar? Definitely hormones! I think the children are wondering what the hell is going on around here and pretty soon they will probably start hoarding food up in their rooms before I get to it first. But I would find it. I would find it and eat it all!! And then we could cry about it.

But I'm not a fan of pastel pink...

2009-04-20T07:18:00.006-05:00

Hello again! Here I am more than one month later writing another post here...to myself. We found out about 2 weeks ago that our little pea in a pod is a girl....a girl! A girl?? A girl.

I wanted a girl...or a boy, actually. Either one. But it's strange having been a mom to only boys for the past 7 years, I feel unprepared. I imagined myself with 3 boys so I could keep referring to my kids as "the boys" and pass on their faded, worn-out clothes to the next in line. Having a girl seems a little bit scary. I was kind of a tomboy growing up. I liked bugs and animals and playing baseball, even though I was no good at it. I'm not a fan of the color pink. I don't want to buy stuff that says princess on it. Is that sexist of me to assume that she will even like that stuff? She probably won't. She'll be just like me and want to play baseball. But then she'll turn into a scary, unstable teenager and join the army and leave.

Jack said he didn't want a little sister because he doesn't want any Bratz dolls in the house. I told him she might not like Bratz dolls (lord, I hope not - why don't they just call them hoochie mamas?), but he doesn't seem to believe me.

It still seems unbelievable that I'm pregnant with a girl. Why do I feel so different about it than with the boys? I feel like I'm pregnant for the first time all over again, not knowing what to expect. A girl....a girl? A girl!

Updated - 5 May 2009 - I've been thinking about this and I think the main reason I feel weird about having a girl is because of the way everyone reacts like I'm finally getting what I've been waiting for! Like having a girl is going to be somehow more fun for me than having a boy. Or how people would ask if we were going to "try for a girl" like we wouldn't really want another boy. We knew we wanted another baby, and the rest didn't matter! I guess I'm just defensive about the subject. I love my rowdy boys and I don't want them to feel like I was any less excited about my pregnancies with them.

Three

2009-01-09T10:15:00.009-06:00

Remember when I had the dilemma about whether or not we should have another baby?

Well, a couple weeks ago I found out that in August of this year, our children will outnumber us. I'm pregnant! Again!

Right after I found out, I felt perfectly fine for about a week and I thought this is going to be an easy pregnancy! I'll just be able to do what I normally do and be pregnant! But the nausea crept up like a big green ugly monster...and the food aversions and cravings. It's more intense with this pregnancy than with either of my first two...and I've only just begun. It already feels like my body is no longer my own. It's a vessel for some greater purpose and I'm just along for the ride.

I've been thinking of nothing but labor and delivery for the past few days. As soon as I lay down at night, I'm bombarded with images of babies being born in all manner of possible ways....at home on the floor, in a hospital with an epidural, in the backseat of a car, underwater, 100 years ago on a bed where a woman bites on a leather strap with a knife under the bed "to cut the pain." I think it's because I'll be using the National Healthcare System here in England and they have a lot more options than our military healthcare when it comes to labor and delivery. You can have a home birth if you want and the pain control options are a little different. Also babies are delivered by a midwife here and doctors are only involved if necessary. I realize it's a little early to be thinking about this, but it's been on my mind nonetheless.

And I also feel like the laziest most fun-hating person on the planet. I'm a bum. A slug. I am a stick in the mud. I want to be on the couch with a book and a blanket like a person of weak constitutions. I lure the boys to me with books and snacks and card games, so they will sit with me and then they get bored and run away because I'm a boring old woman.

And me bones are tired. But excited to the very core.

On the day before the eve before Christmas

2008-12-24T04:09:00.007-06:00

Today used to be the most exciting day of the year for me. All of the other days of the year only existed to lead up to today. In my family we opened most of our presents on Christmas Eve, after having dinner at my aunt's house. Waiting was torturous. Waiting for it to get dark so we could go....once we were there, waiting to start eating...then waiting for the grown-ups to stop eating and eating and eating...staring at the tree and examining every present underneath....waiting for the grown-ups to make their way into the living room...waiting for everyone to get settled and have coffee or egg nog and then they would finally give the all clear for us to rip everything to pieces!! And it lasted about 5 minutes. Then it was done. The end. What now? Only 365 more days to go before we could do it all again!

We make the kids wait until Christmas day to open presents and this year my father-in-law is flying in Christmas morning, so they will have to wait two extra painful hours until we're all together to open presents. It's going to be fun while it lasts.

I hope you have a merry Christmas (or insert other winter holiday here)!! I hope you have the chance to eat large amounts of good food. Have seconds for me. And a glass of wine. Or a bottle.

Two Points in Time

2008-12-19T08:48:00.068-06:00

A Random Day in 2004

She was cleaning in the kitchen with her 4 month old in his bouncy seat, while the two year old came in and out from the backyard freely through the patio door. The spring air in Colorado was cool and dry, but it was sunny outside. A radio was playing on the countertop.

She was drinking a cold can of Pepsi. The rush of caffeine and sugar helped fuel her schedule. The day consisted of rotating time slots of cleaning, feeding and napping. It was an endless cycle.

The toddler came in and announced "I have egg!" That meant he had a full load in his diaper. He started saying that after he overheard his mom announce that his brother had laid an egg when he had a lump in his diaper. He would continue using that phrase until he potty trained right after his 3rd birthday.

After changing his diaper, she noticed that he had unloaded all the books from the bottom 3 shelves of the bookcase at some point during the day. She put them back in their place, getting more and more frustrated with the cycle of the day and the repetition of the tasks that consumed every moment.

The buzzer on the dryer went off. After folding the tiny clothes on the bed and putting them away neatly in the drawers, taking extra time to straighten up the room, she knew it was time for the baby to eat. Throughout the day there would be no deviation from the to do list that continued growing inside her mind. Things needed to be checked off. The rug needed vacuuming, the stupid Mega Bloks were all over the floor again, the sippy cups needed washing, the baby's nails needed trimming, the litterbox was starting to smell, and the dishwasher was ready to be unloaded. She wanted to sit outside with her oldest and play, like they used to when he was an only child, but there were so many other things to do. Sometimes she felt trapped in the confines of her own expectations. There was never enough time for everything.

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A Random Day in 2008

She hurried her 5 and 7 year old sons out the door to get to school on time. They would probably be late. It happened a lot. They followed a wooded path that led them almost directly from their house to the school, watching out for slick patches of mud. The weather in England was cold and wet. Even though it was almost 9 am, it was still not bright outside. It was as if the sun barely made an appearance at all during the day, arching slowly above the horizon as a fading version of itself and then without hesitation, beginning its descent.

She listened to them talk about booby traps and Star Wars. Based on their conversation, she could sense when her youngest was going to have a tough morning, throwing a tantrum for the teacher when she had to leave him there. Those mornings were like having painful dental work done. You just had to get it over with and hope that nothing was permanently damaged.

When she got back to the house after bringing them to school, it seemed quiet and dark and strange. She had coffee in the living room and looked at the Christmas tree. It sometimes still seemed surreal that this was her house and that she had two rapidly growing boys and a Christmas tree that looked strikingly similar to the trees from her own childhood, with mismatched decorations and colored lights. It was the tree of a family.

She noticed there were handprints on the living room window, but felt no desire to clean them. Instead, she was content they were there, because one day the kids wouldn't be leaving little handprints on the window and that would be kind of sad. There were games and photos and "projects" the boys had made in every area of the house. She realized how a house can feel empty and how a house can feel full.

During the day there was no to do list, or if there was it was short. Things were usually flexible. She was able to shuffle tasks around, based on importance, although frequently some things were forgotten. The laundry always sat at the bottom of the list in a big, neglected heap.

In the afternoon she hurried along the path to pick up the boys from school. It was the best part of the day. They would all make their way back home, both of the kids talking at once and trying to unload papers and books from their backpacks along the way. It would be dark soon, but the house would be full of light and sound. She suggested different things they could do together when they got back, but the kids usually wanted to unwind with the video game. Then they would eat dinner together. At the table they talked about school, and the boys either loved the food or hated it. Afterwards, the lull of bedtime always came around fast. There was never enough time for everything. But she was learning that time had a way of expanding and contracting and turning the things that were made most important into well-worn paths of memory.

Hey kids, you'll love this freaky 80's movie

2008-12-19T05:08:00.006-06:00

We have seen very little TV since we moved here. Our TV doesn't pick up British signals, so we've been limited to watching movies. The library has a good selection of 80's movies and we've picked up a few in the past 6 weeks with the idea that the boys would like them, only to discover that they are weirder than we remember and our children are slightly disturbed by them. Remember the 80's when special effects were all laser lights and smoke and weird animatronic creatures?

Labyrinth - They were totally freaked out by this movie. They did not care that David Bowie ran around in ruffles and long hair and clingy pants.

The Princess Bride - Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die. They weren't scared by this, but not really interested in watching it.

ET - They thought ET was really ugly and horrible and I think they were expecting him to start eating people at any moment.

The Neverending Story - They went back and forth between liking this and being scared out of their wits and hiding their faces.

Beetlejuice - Okay, bad idea.

Ghostbusters - Ghostbusters was more adult-oriented than I remember. Oops.

Honey, I Shrunk the Kids - They love this one. Score one for the 80's.

Flight of the Navigator - This one was a hit also, overall.

Willow - Baby in peril. No good.

So in our effort to find family-friendly movies that were not cheesy and annoying and would bring us back to our own delightful childhoods, we have filled our kids' heads with images of scary creatures created by 1980's technology. Feel free to learn from our mistakes. That's what we're here for.

As a side note, we also watched Napoleon Dynamite way too many times and the boys like to spout off quotes from the movie like "Do the chickens have large talons?" Jack tries to do the dance. See kids, the 80's were fun!

She's big boned

2008-12-18T10:01:00.011-06:00

So we have a new addition to the family...

But she's not just a dog.....

She's a

BRICK

HOUSE

Meet Madeline* - at 170 pounds she's a whole lotta woman.

Pay no attention to the weird carpet. It's not even there. There is no ugly carpet. I don't know what you're talking about.

*I wanted to name her something fun like Stella or Lola or Angelina Jolie. Dylann wanted to name her Reba. Jack wanted to name her Pretzel. But Donn wanted to keep her name the same and since she's been called Madeline for 4 1/2 years and she won't come to me when I call her Sally Struthers, he won.

Photographic Evidence

2008-12-14T05:55:00.009-06:00

I love taking pictures. I take too many pictures. Sometimes I get into a theme of things I like to take pictures of. For the first 5 or 6 years of my boys' lives, the theme has been: THEM. I have loads of baby and toddler pictures of my two little monkeys and I'm happy I took as many as I did.

When we were living in Minnesota I started taking pictures of other things, like old buildings that I drove by all the time. I continued in Georgia, focusing on abandoned houses because something always intrigued me about them.

There's something about old neglected buildings that appeals to me like an untold story. I can only imagine the lives that unfolded between those (now decaying) walls. Maybe a family was raised there and the children, now adults, still remember this place as it once was. Inevitably, the whole thing will either be torn down or will collapse into the Georgia landscape and it will be like it was never there.

Now that we're in England, I don't know what to photograph. Old buildings are everywhere...so that would be easy, but I'm just not feeling it at the moment. Maybe because my house looks like this:

This was after I made the boy unpack 588 boxes and then he had to fold this paper up neatly and make origami cranes out of it.

Come on, kid! Get busy!

Let's just hope they don't use my mulitude of photos against me later in life as proof of my remedial parenting skillz. But who could blame them?

We come from the land where the rice and bamboo grows

2008-12-12T04:38:00.008-06:00

Why this year's Christmas program was better than last year's:

Script was slightly better, although what happened to at least having a winter theme for the Christmas program? At their last school the theme was the wild west and the plot was about a cowboy who was bullying everyone and then in the end they all got him to open up and share his emotions. Nice lesson. Happy Holidays. This year the theme was All Around the World and the kids all dressed up like different cultures. Lots of costumes = good times.

It's fun watching kids act with a British accent. It's like watching Harry Potter.

They served mulled wine at the show. It's served hot and has a spicy flavor like cider.

It was a pretty small group of people watching, because there are only 60 kids in the whole school and there were two showings.

Why this year's Christmas program was worse than last year's:

The man directly in front of me let his 3 year old daughter stand up in the seat or sit on his shoulder through most of the show, totally blocking my view. She's cute and everything, but make your dang kid sit down.

So overall: Better!

Confessions on a Dance Floor

2008-12-11T07:32:00.014-06:00

For some reason I felt like posting this today. They’re not all confessions, some are just facts. Come on, let’s get personal.

1. I found out I was pregnant and got married when I was 19 (but almost 20!). Scandalous! AND in the wrong order!
2. My oldest is 7 now.
3. That means I’m 27, but my husband thinks I dress and act like an old woman.
4. He is (roughly) 10 years older than I am, but he has more energy than I'll ever have.
5. We meet somewhere in the middle.
6. I get my news from The Daily Show.
7. I don’t have a college degree.
8. I sometimes fantasize about getting some kind of blue collar job like welding or plumbing so I can wear a shirt with my name embroidered on it and take a thermos to work with me. And maybe wear a hard hat.
9. But just thinking about it is enough for me.
10. Although I was in the army for 2 years.
11. Everyone called me Big J and they had to make special uniforms to fit over my giant muscles.
12. Just kidding.
13. But I really was in the army.
14. And it made me want to be all I could be.
15. So I got out.
16. My kids beat each other up all the time.
17. Most of the time I ignore it unless someone starts bleeding.
18. Then I beat them up.
19. I eat a lot of really fattening foods with butter, cheese, cream, pasta…
20. Sometimes I fantasize about owning a dairy farm.
21. But cow nipples are really ugly.
22. They’re like fingers.
23. Are you bored yet?
24. Once when I was little (about 6), I had a fight with my mom and rode my bike 3 miles away along a busy highway to my grandma’s house.
25. Then I got scared and thought I was going to get kidnapped by someone in a white van with no windows.
26. But I wasn’t.
27. I wore braces for 3 years because my orthodontist lost track of the time and thought they had only been on for a year and a half.
28. My favorite song is Baba O’Riley by The Who.
29. Sometimes I eat Nutella right out of the jar with a spoon.
30. I like to say judgemental things about celebrities. Because I'm mean-spirited. And they make too much money.

Now you know more about me than you ever wanted to. Anyone else out there have a confession for the day (or 30)?

The Sound of Settling

2008-11-24T07:18:00.013-06:00

Things have been going pretty well! We found a house, but our furniture hasn’t arrived yet so the military loaned us a few things until it comes. Also the house doesn’t have a stove or a refrigerator right now. We’ve been living like squatters for a week. The boys built a fort next to the stairway out of empty boxes and miscellaneous junk to add to the décor. All we need now is a crackhead in the spare bedroom.

This move is a little different because along with settling into a new house and new school, we're also adjusting to life in a different country. One thing we have to get used to is standing out every time we open our mouths. We can try to blend in as much as we want, but as soon as we speak, people know we’re foreigners.

Unlike living in the south, where we were the fast-talking northerners, we’re the slow talkers around here. In the same amount of time it takes me to say “Hellllllooooo, howwww arrrrre yoooooou,” they could tell you what village they live in, who was beheaded there, what their mum made for dinner three nights ago, and their favorite childhood pastime. However, it’s likely you would not understand a thing they said and then you are faced with two options: 1. Ask them to repeat themselves and risk not understanding the whole thing again and looking like a big foreign dummy. Or 2. Smile and nod and look like a big foreign dummy.

Electricity

Using electricity is a lot more involved here. In our house every outlet has a switch to turn the outlet on or off. And everything uses 220 volts with this giant three-pronged plug. It’s like you’re plugging in some kind of giant power-sucking appliance even when it’s just a little tiny nightlight.

We have to use transformers to plug in our American appliances. I thought the transformer would look like this:

Instead it looks more like this:

It’s a big, black box that weighs about 15 lbs. and makes a loud whirring noise whenever you plug anything into it. It sounds like that part in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation when the Griswold’s turn on the Christmas lights.

Driving

When we first started driving here it was a little scary. Being on the left side of the road, all the oncoming traffic suddenly looks like it’s speeding recklessly at you on the wrong side of the highway. That worked in our favor because it’s natural to want to stay out of the way. Roundabouts are a little intimidating. The nice thing is if you miss your exit you can go around again and again until you get it right. Then you will feel like Mr. Bean.

Once you are off the highway and on a narrow, two-lane, country road, the idea seems to be to get where you are going as fast as possible without sliding off the road or hitting any sheep. And don’t pay any attention to the rain, just drive as you normally would.

Donn has been doing most of the driving here, but I assist by reading every sign we pass in a British accent.

Old Things

People here take pride in things that are old. In a lot of the villages they even build new buildings to look like they are old. Everything looks like it’s from the 1600’s. I keep expecting to see a chimney sweep walking down the sidewalk. It makes pretty much any city in the US seem like a trip into the future.

Wal-mart

No Wal-marts. However…there are stores just like wal-mart, which I was surprised to learn. I thought everyone shopped at little markets, being it’s the 1600’s and all. But there are places like Tesco.

Imagine stepping into the vast expanse of Wal-mart without knowing where anything is or even what most of the products are unless you actually read the labels. That was what we faced when we walked into Tesco. It was extremely crowded and everyone was rushing around and there we stood, staring at everything like we had the word HELP written on our foreheads. The most exciting part of the shopping experience was taking the cart up the giant cart-friendly escalator. Weeee!

School

The boys both started school today (I'll write more about their little school another time). It was very exciting because we’ve been hanging out with basically just each other for the past month. The family togetherness ended about two weeks ago and since then they’ve been fighting like rabid badgers. Now they can interact with people they don’t live with and maybe things will be a little more peaceful at home. Come on, let’s have some brotherly love.

Sleepless in Cambridgeshire

2008-11-02T19:01:00.010-06:00

It's 1 AM here and I am wide awake. I'm back to my old habit of trying to figure out the meaning of life before I fall asleep. We are staying in Air Force lodging, which is a refreshing change of scenery after spending a few days camping in our mostly empty house surrounded by piles of clothes and miscellaneous lego pieces, and then a short stay in a tiny Days Inn room with our eight suitcases and miscellaneous lego pieces. Here we have space for our miscellaneous lego pieces and then some!

Ahhh, sleep...

Today we went to my best friend from high school's house (who is still one of my best friends, but it sounds more dramatic to say it that way - 14 years!). Her husband was nice enough to shuttle us there and back and explain some of the road signs to us, so we won't feel like dummies. At least not when we're reading road signs. This friend of mine, April, also happens to have an adorable baby girl who never cries and smiles every time you look at her. Of course we did only spend about 6 hours or so with her, but still, that's quite a stretch to maintain a good mood. She's got me beat.

Hi pumpkin!

After we were at their house for a while and I made myself comfortable, stole the remote, ate the baby's crackers, took off my pants and stuck a pick in my hair (well, that's what I felt like doing because their house is so homey and we don't really have a home right now), we decided to go for a walk. Isn't this story exciting? Let me set the scene. They live in a small village in a rural area, surrounded mostly by farmland. The buildings are stone and brick, smoke is coming out of all the chimneys, the sky is grey, the grass is insanely green, and everything looks really, really old. We walked through a few fields, one of which had sheep and the highlight of the walk for the boys was the vast array of sheep poop. Did you know sheep wag their tails when they poop?

Hello, I am a sheep and I'm full of it.

Then we walked through a church cemetary, which was not as morbid as it sounds. Although Dylann did have some questions like, "What happens to the body when it's underground?" And while we tried to figure out just how to answer that, Jack answered, "The bugs eat it."

Afterwards our friends treated us to a very expensive dinner, which I didn't realize how expensive it was until Donn told me later...and wow, thanks again! That'll teach you to take us out to dinner!

And then we walked over to another really beautiful church where Mary, Queen of Scots was beheaded. It was eerie at night with the church lit up, surrounded by fog. And did I mention someone was beheaded there? We didn't tell that to the boys and they thought the church was a castle. They think most of the buildings here are castles because they're not flat, ranch-style houses and wal-marts.

Tomorrow we will hopefully be driving on the proper side of the road and trying to keep up with the british people who drive insanely fast on these winding, narrow roads.

Make way for the americans! We need to go look for a castle to call home.

Goodbye Georgia

2008-10-28T21:02:00.009-05:00

Lately I've been so nostalgic and sentimental, I may have been at risk of buying some kind of cutesy figurine at Hallmark just to remember how sentimental I was feeling. Then I could look back on that time fondly. With nostalgia. That word sounds like a tumor. I have a nostalgic growth in my left temporal lobe.

As we're about to leave one place for the next, I gain a new appreciation for all of the areas that are part of our daily lives. Suddenly everything seems like it's already part of a memory and I know I'll miss it in some way. This was our home in 2006, when Donn was between deployments for a year, and for most of 2008. Regardless of our dislike for the city we lived in and even sometimes this whole area, our lives happened here during that time and without noticing, we settled in.

I wandered around the empty house this morning before we turned over our keys. With all traces us of us having lived there completely gone it was a blank slate, ready for someone else to drag all of their boxes and beds into and mess up like home. Even though I'm excited about moving on, I felt like I wanted to leave our mark in some way...as proof that we actually lived here in the cute little house in Georgia with big closets, a fireplace we never used, and a crappy backyard. Instead of leaving something behind, we're taking the pictures and memories with us. And if that's not enough, I've made a short list.

Some of the things I will miss about this area:

- Living so close to beaches with white sand and dolphins

- Being near Savannah

- Hearing my name pronounced with 3 syllables. Who knew Jessi was actually supposed to be JAY-eh-SAY? Not me, that's who.

- Palm trees

- Biscuits and gravy - although it looks gross, it's not! Creamy, lumpy, biscuity.

- Weather that is mild and lovely from October - May.

- Driving by old dilapitated, tin-roof houses. They make me want to sit on a porch, drinking tea out of a jar and swatting at flies.

- Hearing the tree frogs and crickets so loud through our open windows at night, it sounds like we live in a rainforest.

I wish I had some pictures to include, but my hard drive is packed away and we're living out of a suitcase for the foreseeable future.

On Friday we will be in England!

Some of my favorite books have pictures

2008-10-16T10:27:00.024-05:00

I know I mentioned before that I love children's books. It's taken me about 2 months to put together a post about it...and here it is! Over the summer we went to the library once a week and I let the boys pick out 4 books each. As they ran off to the non-fiction section to get books about kung-fu and tarantalas, I went through the picture books to find some stories that I might not mind reading over and over. Most of the time I went over my own limit I had set for the number of books we brought home. I lack self-control in the library. When I was a kid my mom set no limits to the number of books I checked out and I can remember checking out 37 one time. Then we lost a few and my mom didn't want to pay the fee, so that was the last trip to the library until I was in high school. Good times.

I wanted to share a few of our favorites. These are Dylann's favorites (excluding all those starring pokemon characters or sports teams):

Beegu - A story about a little yellow alien who lands on earth and discovers she doesn't fit in anywhere. It's a little sad, but all is okay in the end. I love the artwork and I actually made Dylann a stuffed version of Beegu with bright yellow polar fleece because I am Hattie Housewife.

Tikki Tikki Tembo - This is a retelling of an old Chinese folktale about two brothers and the trouble they get into. They have a crabby mother who plays favorites with her oldest son whose name is Tikki-Tikki-Tembo-No-Sa-Rembo-Chari-Bari-Ruchi-Pip-Peri-Pembo. The best character is the old man who spends all his time daydreaming under a tree with a ladder. That's my retirement plan.

In the Night Kitchen - A Maurice Sendak classic. A little boy wakes in the night to discover all the action that goes on in the kitchen while everyone is asleep. I never get tired of reading this story. The illustrations are comforting like a big mug of hot chocolate on a cold day. It's not too long or too short and it's also the first book Dylann ever read completely on his own.

And Jack's favorites (excluding the ones about bats and bugs and ninjas):

Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus! - This book is really fun to read. The main character is an insistent pigeon asking the reader to let him drive the bus in a typical desperate, repetitive preschooler fashion. I like to give the pigeon a New Jersey accent.

Haunted House - A pop-up book that we read over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over. But it's short, so that's okay. Also, the pop-ups are really cool.

The Ghost of Sifty-Sifty Sam - This story has a southern flavor. It's like Paula Deen, ya'll. The story is about an old haunted house that a realtor wants to get off his hands. He decides to pay anyone who will spend the night in the house $5,000. The man who takes on the challenge is a chef who specializes in crispy, delicious batter-dipped fish. I will say no more!

And a couple more good ones:

The Day the Babies Crawled Away - A cute story about a little boy who rescues a group of babies that crawl off into the woods during a neighborhood picnic. The text is sing songy and repetitive, but I don't mind that in this story. The illustrations are unique with black silhouettes of the characters on a backdrop of bright colors. It's a great bedtime story because it wraps up with the little boy all wore out and tucked in at the end of the day. I need a nap.

Galimoto - This story takes place in a village in Africa. It's about a boy who is determined to collect everything he needs to make a galimoto, which is a little push car. The kids in the story make all their toys out of discarded junk like plastic bags and old wires. I make the boys read this story every time they complain about cleaning up their 500 toys off the floor. Ok, I don't, but I love the way this book highlights the creativity kids have even in the most simple living situations.

And that's how we roll. Reading Rainbow style.

Have any childhood favorites or other good ones to recommend?

Scattered Thoughts on International Moving and Dweebazoids

2008-09-26T18:12:00.004-05:00

Every time I drive onto the army base, the person manning the guard shack checks my ID and says "Rock of the Marne! Have a good day!" I have no idea what that means. It's one of those local army phrases people use to make you feel all gung ho, but every time someone says it I have this urge to respond with something to do with rocks that doesn't make any sense like "Stone temple pilots!" or "Pebbles and Bam Bam!" These are things I like to think long and hard about.

We are moving in 2 weeks. People will come and pack up our stuff and it will leave in 3 separate shipments. Then our vehicles will get on a boat and ride across the ocean. Our cat has been vaccinated, blood tested, poked, prodded and violated so he can join us. And all sarcasm aside, I can't wait to get there! That sounded sarcastic, didn't it? It wasn't!

Jack has been going to school willingly (mostly) and even taking the bus every day. We've finally broken his spirit. Go to school, boy! Fill yer head with larnin'! Poor kid, stuck with us for parents. He actually enjoys it though, once he gets there. He comes home singing songs about Old Man Tucker complete with hand movements, and rumor has it he is one of the most skilled at coloring. He actually read two sentences on his own last night for the first time, so let me tell you it's not all shenanigans and lolligagging at this here learning institution.

Dylann's 7th birthday party will be this weekend. Whenever his birthday rolls around, he wants to invite 50 people over to party like it's 1999. One year we didn't really have a party and instead went to a park and had a picnic with cake. I have forever heard about that fateful birthday when he was forced to spend it with "just family". I didn't realize he was at the age yet where he thinks his parents are lame-o dweebazoids. Maybe I should stop calling him my little white haired monkey in front of his friends now. The time has come!

I feel like an underpaid zookeeper

2008-08-14T09:13:00.014-05:00

I was going to write this post about my secret love of children's books. Because I do secretly love children's picture books and I think they can be poignant and beautiful and funny and heart wrenching and very, very, very good. See how well-spoken I am? However, the unforeseeable events of this morning have changed the topic of this post. Instead it will be about trying to put a rabid cat in a bathtub....and by that I mean trying to get a 4 year old who doesn't want to go to school to put a uniform on and get in the minivan and stay there until we get to the school and then drag him kicking and screaming to his classroom where he will eventually calm down and have a pleasant day at school and come home happy only to wake up and realize that he doesn't want to go to school.

Jack was off to a good start the first week of school, but apparently he's had enough. Tuesday he was home sick and then Wednesday he was frantic not to go to school and I could not get him to put his uniform on until we were already very late. He locked himself in various rooms of the house while I chased him around and eventually it was so late I gave up because I didn't want to cause a huge disturbance at the school in the middle of the day. Which was a mistake, of course. This morning I had to pay for that.

It's difficult to carry a near 50 lb. child flailing all his limbs around like a giant vengeful seagull through an entire school while he screams various dramatic outcries. Dude, I understand. It sucks, but let's not get carried away here. There was literally sweat on my face by the time we got to his classroom and I think I my expression was a combination of "somebody help me" and "somebody shoot me" and "everybody look out!" My thoughts raced back and forth between my poor baby! and I've raised a monster! It was a horrible situation for both of us. I felt horrible...there was guilt involved...he felt horrible...there was kicking involved...

The one thing that made things slightly easier was that every single adult I saw looked sympathetic and understanding at our situation. These are elementary school teachers and they've seen it all before. You know normally in any other situation there would be some woman looking like Judgy McJudgypants, but there was none of that this morning, which was wonderful because I hate Judgy McJudgypants.

The thing that caught me so off guard with Jack's reaction this morning was that as far as I knew, he liked school. He pretty much has only had good things to report when he comes home at the end of the day and seems proud of himself. All this is complicated by the fact that we'll be moving in 6 weeks and starting over again at a new school. Somebody help me. Somebody shoot me. Everybody look out!

This was on his first day, when he just got on the bus and went to school. Just like that.

My Big Head and Me

2008-08-07T08:04:00.007-05:00

Donn is gone right now at a military school for 5 weeks. I just realized that sounds like I have a child named Donn that I sent away to boarding school. My husband Donn has been sent, by the army, to a military school for advanced training. He is not an 8 year old delinquent.

Anyway, he is gone right now. When he's not home, I have trouble sleeping. I'm a night person to begin with, so I like to stay up quite a while after the boys go to bed, but without Donn here I stay up way too late watching these creepy true crime shows. Then I can't sleep because I'm afraid I'll be the next victim in a true crime show. Truly.

So I've started leaving the TV on really quiet at night because at least then if someone is sneaking in to attack me, I won't have to freak out about it right away. Has anyone seen the things that are on TV late at night? There is some good stuff going on, let me tell you. The other night there was a show on BBC America that was called My Small Breasts and I. Just think of the possibilities for a series of these shows: Me and My Pancreas...Finding my Uvula...Me, Myself, and My Lazy Eye...My Big Buttcheeks and Me. And then there are the weird fetish shows about people who love smashing pies in their faces, cousins who marry each other, grown women who like to wear diapers. I always wonder how they find the people to participate in these shows. Why don't I have a next door neighbor who dresses like Peter Pan every day? I guess we're in the wrong neighborhood.

Next on my agenda here for in-depth discussion are the commercials that come on late at night. They are the worst. Things like Cash 4 Gold, Head On!, and LifeAlert. The actors in these commercials are so terrible. It's like they just grabbed some people who were down on their luck and gave them $20 and a sandwich to be on TV.

In other news, the boys did fine at school yesterday. Although this morning when Jack was about to board the bus, he decided he didn't want to go and took off running toward the house, tore off his backpack, dashed inside the front door, and locked me out. And there I stood, knocking on my own front door so my four year old would let me in. It makes me laugh to imagine the neighbors watching what goes on at our house. Never a dull moment. I eventually did get him to school....because of my excellent parenting skillz.

So if you came here looking for someone to point out the obvious, you've come to the right place.

2008-07-25T09:24:00.005-05:00

I love schedules. I think they are right up there with dishwashers. They are wonderful and beautiful and amazing. I actually enjoy sitting down and figuring out what I want to get done for the day and filling in time slots with very specific activities. Then I sigh with relief and knock on the tabletop 5 times, do 3 pirouettes and wash my hands for exactly 33.3 seconds while humming Flight of the Bumblebee.

I love the idea of schedules. I like to see what I could get done in one 24 hour period. However, I never take into consideration the fact that I am not a very organized person, I am easily distracted, and I am not hyperactive. My schedules wind up impossible to stick to. I never allot the proper amount of time for anything because I assume I am a mover and a shaker. I am not a mover and a shaker. I'm more like an ambitious koala.

Also, I need transition periods. Much like a preschooler, I need an announcement 10 minutes before we're about to change activities so I can mentally adjust to the idea. Okay, right now I am eating and in 10 minutes I will be loading the dishwasher. I am happy and at peace with the world. Ommmmmmmmmm.

There is also a part of me that is like this crazy anarchist with a bunch of piercings and every time I try to tell her what to do she starts raging against the machine. It's like Amy Winehouse meets the Sex Pistols. BOLLOCKS TO YOUR SCHEDULE! And now, I am officially a lunatic.

I had a point here....somewhere. Here it is: Time management. It is difficult.

Rubbish and poppycock

2008-07-21T18:20:00.006-05:00

During the past four weeks we took a 2 week trip up north to Minnesota and Michigan (3,200 miles roundtrip - ugg) and since then we have had a slew of appointments to get ready for school and moving. School starts here in about 2 weeks. After 6 weeks in the Georgia school system, we make the big move and the boys will get to experience the British school system.

Here is what I know about how schools might be in England (based on watching Harry Potter and Mary Poppins):

1. They wear uniforms that make them look like little collegiates - Brilliant!
2. They say things like "Ello Guvnah!"
3. The bus drivers know how to drive on the wrong side of the road - Talented!
4. They call garbage rubbish and they use the word poppycock.
5. The teachers have names like Mrs. Perrywinkle and Mr. Tweedy

That's all I need to know. I don't care if they still beat the kids with rulers, I'm sold.

As you can see, I am completely on top of things here. We should be totally prepared when we get there.

If I Acted Like a Little Boy for a Day

2008-06-11T08:36:00.004-05:00

Mornings would be slow-moving as everyone in the house would have to try to tackle each other to the floor to see who gets the blue bowl. Eating would be done while running and laughing and somehow miraculously not choking. To get dressed, I would pull down all the clothes I didn't want to wear, then realize I had pulled down all the clothes in the closet and that I am standing on them and singing a song about reptiles because I forgot what I was supposed to be doing. I would decide to wear a blue shirt with a giant robot face on it and a pair of bright yellow pants that go with a fireman costume. I would look in the mirror and announce that I am roboto-fireman. I would continue looking in the mirror for 10 minutes while practicing karate.

After organizing my legos by dumping them out and seeing which ones flew the farthest when thrown at the ceiling fan, I would suddenly realize I was starving. I would ask for food from everyone around me. Then I would cry because they were taking too long. I would tell them I'm going to die because I'm so hungry. I would lay on the floor and wail and moan while rending my garments.

Once I had eaten quietly for 10 minutes, I would notice my brother sitting there not crying. This would bother me. I would tackle him to the ground and we would roll on the floor for 3 hours until I got hit in the face and started to cry. It would be his fault.

When it got dark, I would have more energy than ever and would run laps around the house until I tripped on a rug and fell. It would not be my fault. Then I would run again and take off all my clothes except my underwear because I'm hot. I would continue to run.

When a neighbor came to visit I would tell them that my cat poops in a box. Then I would laugh until I fell on the floor and almost wet my pants. Then I would do 30 cartwheels, 10 somersaults, carry the cat upside down into my room and shut him in the closet, run laps, eat a peanut butter sandwich, and drink a bottle of water by pouring the water into the lid and spilling it all over the floor.

The end.

Let's take off our clothes and start a fire

2008-06-02T10:59:00.011-05:00

Is it just me or does the title of this post sound like an R&B song? Throw in an "OoooOOoooo girl" and Boyz 2 Men could totally sing it.

Dylann had his last day of school over a week ago. He "graduated" kindergarten with flying colors. We let him get a tattoo to celebrate. It says First Graders Rule the Skool! Then we threw him a kegger. Just kidding. We have to draw the line somewhere.

My friend Becky was here with her new husband the weekend before last. We have been friends since the third grade when we scribbled notes all through class and signed them "Your Best French Fri(end)." Because we were clever. And let me tell you! We still are!

This last weekend we went camping. It was full of equal amounts of fun and woe, just like the camping trips of yore. Little bit of fun, little bit of horrible, little bit of happy, little bit of poopy. The highlight of the trip for the boys was that they got to strip their shirts off and play with fire. When it comes to good times, nothing beats shirtless pyromania.

The highlight for me was that we got to ride bikes all over the place. We could have been in a brochure for healthy family activities with the four of us all riding in a row, although we should have been near a meadow or something, and singing. We attempted off-roading it and tried one of the trails, but Jack wasn't a fan of riding over tree roots. He was bouncing so much on his little bike it looked like he was riding on train tracks.

At night we were attacked by sand gnats in our sleep, and when we went to the campground pool the next day, I was very excited to walk around in my bikini looking like a leper. Excuse me while I jump in the pool with all my red welts! After two nights of sleeping with the sand gnats, we all look like we're recovering from small pox. It's the Itchy & Scratchy show.

I'll end this with a clip of Dylann explaining how to catch a fish like a pro:

Just don't stick your finger in the fish's mouth

2008-05-17T11:56:00.015-05:00

If the past few weeks of our lives were a movie, it would be called We Went to a Cabin in the Woods...or maybe Look at Me, I Caught a Fish...or we could just call it Deliverance and take away the banjo and the hillbillies and the canoe and call it a day. Our cabin wasn't exactly what I think of when I imagine a cabin. Although it wasn't lacking in any moose lightswitch covers, loon shower curtains, and of course a dead deer head mounted on the wall, it also had a hot tub, two tv's, and a foosball table in the basement. But we discovered about 5 minutes after we arrived there was no wifi. Then we left. Well, we stuck it out for a week. There were plenty of other distractions. Like trees.

I spent a lot of time on this porch. We had some good times, me and that rocking chair. I was made for sitting on a porch. Sitting and staring at the woods. It's my calling.

In this picture I was telling the boys something to make them laugh, but to me it looks like I'm pinching them.

Here is Dylann doing his new favorite thing. When he actually reeled in a fish he was very excited until he was about to pull it out of the water and saw it's fishy face popping out at him and he started asking IS IT GOING TO BITE ME?! DO FISH BITE?! DOES THIS HAVE TEETH?! NO, REALLY, IS IT GOING TO BITE ME?! We are very outdoorsy.

The town we were near was so small, there was no cell phone service even when standing in the middle of downtown. It was like we had stepped back in time. When we were out to eat that night and asked our waitress where the nearest place was that sold wine, she actually laughed and said we would have to drive 20 minutes down the road to a different town. After she left Donn said, "Maybe I should have asked her about moonshine instead (cue banjo music here)."

Although we missed technology, it was very relaxing to be away from everything for a while. We walked around and sifted through stuff at antique and thrift stores, we went to the lake, we drove with the windows down and took our time, we sat on the porch and watched the rain. I read 2 books. The boys didn't break anything that couldn't be fixed. Nobody was hooked when we taught the boys how to cast their fishing line. The trip was a success.

Now we're back to civilization, where there's always about a million things to do and not enough time to do them. I want my porch back!

Movin' on Up

2008-04-24T09:18:00.002-05:00

Hello there! From in here...in the computer! Where I live!

You're probably wondering what is up with dear old weeza and why nothing is ever updated anymore. Okay, so I'm sure you weren't wondering at all and you probably wound up here accidentally after you did a search for Weezie from The Jeffersons and here you are....welcome! Fish don't fry in the kitchen and beans don't burn on the grill, took a whole lot of trying just to get up that hill.

Things have been busy around here, the very good kind of busy. But since Donn got back I've been afflicted with a little something I call complete relaxation. I have certain telltale symptoms like suddenly falling into a deep sleep while eating a sandwich and sitting around smiling for no reason like some kind of optimistic person or something. I tried to explain to Donn that it's a good thing that I can't seem to stay awake now that he's here. I'm so glad you're home! I'll tell you more about it after I wake up!

The children have been all over him like rabid monkeys, but they are starting to get used to having him around and someday soon maybe they will remember their dear old mom, the chopped liver over here in the corner...eating worms. It's been good though, watching them relay every event of the past 15 months to him in bits and pieces. It goes like this:

Dylann: Dad

Donn: What

Dylann: Dad

Donn: What

Dylann: Dad. Dad. Dad?

Donn: What is it, Dylann?

Dylann: Ha, ha ha...I don't remember what I was going to say. Can I have a juice box?

Then five minutes later the scene repeats itself. I think they're just reassuring themselves that he's here and that he's listening. Right now he's on leave from work, so he is pretty much always here to listen. And to wonder why his wife falls asleep on the toilet. Goodnight.

They haven't left him alone since

2008-04-05T19:07:00.002-05:00

And he's loving it.

He'll be here...

2008-04-04T12:45:00.023-05:00

Tonight! Well, technically tomorrow morning because it will be in the middle of the night. About 12 hours from now! 15 months of lonely nights spent watching bad TV with a cat in my lap are almost over. As you can imagine, we had a lot to do today to get ready. I took some pictures of us hard at work. First I scrubbed the floors.

Then I pressed all the sheets, using lavender water to give them a nice smell that says "romance".

I also pressed the children's attire for tonight's ceremony.

I did NOT allow them to plaster their bodies with Hispanic tattoos of catholic figures that they bought at a restaurant the other day while mommy stuffed her face.

Oh wait, I mean I did do that. The tattoos go nicely with Jack's black eye from an unfortunate trampoline incident. The Latin Kings would be proud.

Alright, so I didn't spend the day baking and cleaning. But I did spend some time doing those things. I also spent a good amount of time having uncontrollable spasms of excitement where I scream and jump 10 feet in the air. I thought it would be good if we went outside for a while to get some fresh air and minimize the freakish outbursts.

Jack noticed that something was actually growing in the pots where we had planted seeds.

Who knew green stuff could shoot out of the dirt like this? Holy smokes!

Here I am busily making a quilt with one square for each day Donn was gone.

Oops, nevermind.

Alright, time is passing and I need to go get spastic. Happy Friday!

Heavens to Betsy!

2008-03-25T08:27:00.005-05:00

So I've been trying to think of things to write a post about. I thought maybe I would write about how Dylann uses phrases he picked up from Grandma in Minnesota and it makes him sound like an elderly person, waving a cane around. "Heavens!" "Geez oh man." "Goodness gracious!" "Holy smokes!" "Gee whiz!" I think gee whiz is my favorite. He sounds like he should be in a 1950's Ovaltine commercial.

I also thought I would write about how Dylann is growing up and blah, blah, time flies, but I've written about that 50 times already. So yeah, Dylann is growing up. Time flies. He takes the bus to school and two of his teeth fell out! My big toothless boy is on his way to becoming the proud owner of adult-sized teeth. Isn't it weird that kids get full-sized teeth at such young ages? Little kids running around with giant adult teeth and they can barely tie their shoes. I guess it's better than if they had adult-sized feet.

And the weather here is FANTASTIC. I love spring in the south and its loveliness is magnified 50 times after our long winter in Minnesota. Every day I look out my window and sing like Snow White. How enchanting.

Donn is coming home in about 10 days! Hopefully he doesn't look in the garage!

Ok, so that's all I got.

Now we just need a golden retriever

2008-03-14T06:26:00.007-05:00

I started down an inevitable path 6 years ago. A baby came screaming into the world. I became obsessed with that baby and didn't talk about anything else until he was 22 months old. Then I had another. Shortly afterwards we discovered we couldn't take these whippersnappers camping. With two car seats in the backseat of our pontiac sunfire there was no room for anything else. My husband suggested a minivan. I said, "I'm not ready for that yet." One month later I took a ride in a friend's new minivan and a few days after that spacious ride we bought the exact same one. A kia sedona that has carried us over 80,000 miles in 4 years with no problems to speak of. The van is like an extension to our house. Now it has brought us here, to the next stop on the cliche highway:

I am a soccer mom.

But I think I'll hold off on buying the bumper sticker.

Also, just wanted to note that shinguards and soccer socks on kids under 4 feet tall are the cutest things I've ever seen. Almost.

When Jack was done and we were loading up into our MINIVAN, one of the kids said goodbye and he said, "Bye! See you next time...AT SOCCER!" With the same level of excitement as if you replaced the word soccer with Disneyworld or A Toy Store Where Everything is Free!

Did I mention that this was cute?

First the packing, now the unpacking

2008-03-13T07:27:00.004-05:00

My garage looks like a warehouse. Or like I have a severe eBay addiction. At least over half of the boxes are empty now. Progress.

Babies and waffles

2008-03-11T10:35:00.023-05:00

This morning Jack announced that he hopes the next baby I have is not a girl because a boy would probably like the same things he likes. Also when he gets tired of fighting with Dylann, he would have someone else to fight with and totally dominate.

This little revelation surprised me because I'm obviously not pregnant (husband deployed for the last 15 months) and am not planning to be anytime soon. The topic comes up a lot though with other people. When I told my family that we would be moving to England at the end of the summer, their reaction was, "Oh no! That means you're going to have a baby over there!"

In my little world of family and friends there are babies crawling out from behind every corner, cute little fuzzy-headed monkeys with big fat cheeks and twinkly eyes and toothless grins. They are hard to resist. However those thoughts have been tempered with gritty labor and delivery stories, some of which actually scare the pants off me. It's been about 4 1/2 years since I had Jack and the memories of my own experiences in the delivery room have faded with time and seem almost like old fables. I'm sure some of the details have been lost and some things exaggerated.

When Donn and I compare stories we each remember different parts more vividly. He was able to pay attention to more than I was in my hysterical, half-naked state. If there are any discrepencies it's only because there was so much going on it was impossible for each of us to take it all in. Now it seems almost unreal, an experience so beyond the realm of normal daily life and so physically daunting that my mind has a hard time believing it really happened.

Although I think we will have another baby at some point, I honestly cannot imagine going through it all again. We've made it through two pregnancies and deliveries with everyone in tact. Another try seems like it might be pushing it. It would mean starting all over again with the diapers and middle of the night feedings, setting up the crib and pulling out all the old baby clothes, but it would be different with a new little person in the mix. It would be another chance to experience the first moments all over again.

Maybe we wouldn't screw up as much with the third one. Poor Dylann had to break us in to our new roles as parents and he lived through our ineptitude somehow. When Jack came along we spent an entire year in a cycle of changing diapers and warming milk because Dylann was still a toddler. Our house was so childproofed it was like running an obstacle course to get from one end of the house to the other, leaping over baby gates and unlatching doors along the way. A lot of what we spent time and money on turned out to be unnecessary, because the things that made the biggest impact and the best memories didn't cost any money. The third time around might be that much easier since the first two have worked out most of the kinks. At least up until age 6. Beyond that lies unexplored territory. As always, poor Dylann leads the way.

Just the idea of having three kids scares me a little bit. They would outnumber us. The baby would have to don a helmet and full-body protective gear in order to be in the same room with Dylann and Jack. Chaos might ensue. Or worse, we might turn into one of those families that goes out in matching shirts and fanny packs, going to square dancing festivals and being wholesome.

I guess I'll just keep hemming and hawing and waffling. It's what I do.

That sounds pleasant

2008-03-08T13:39:00.004-06:00

Jack: When it's your birthday, I'm going to tell Daddy we need to buy a teddy bear for you.

Me: That would be nice. Or you could just make me something. I like things that you made yourself.

Jack: Okay, I'm going to shoot a bear and take all of it's skin off. Then I'm going to put stuffing in it and sew it up. Would you like that?

At times we felt like hobos

2008-03-06T06:40:00.005-06:00

We drove, we hauled, we laughed, we cried, we got gas, we yelled, we got gas, we yelled, we got gas, we sang songs, we got gas, we got gas, and we yelled. No one was injured.

We had a full load. The van was packed and the uhaul was loaded so tight, we didn't dare open it until we were ready for everything to come flying out the back. The scenery in the first few states was the same, repeating shades of gray and white with the occasional billboard for Jesus.

As we got further and further south, we started to feel like dazed time travelers every time we got out of the vehicle. We went from the coldest part of winter to what felt like the middle of spring, complete with green trees and birds and sun. The van was still covered in salt from the roads in northern Minnesota and the boys were wearing t-shirts and winter boots, squinting at the sun, wondering how it is possible that the weather can be so different in two places at the same time. Our skin was so pale from a long winter of being covered from head to toe in layers of wool and flannel and down that we looked like sheep after they are freshly shorn, feeling half-naked and confused.

When we arrived, we drove around for a while until I eventually remembered my way around, but we found out the hotel we wanted was only available for one night so we had to unload the back of the van that evening and load it all back up in the morning. Then we would drive about 2 miles away to another hotel in the afternoon and unload it all again. And that hotel would only be available for one night, so we would do this 3 more times, each time causing the van to look more and more like a dump truck. Hello! Don't mind me, I'm just the garbage man.

The boys had reached near-lethal levels of boredom and were so ready to run and jump and climb that we almost had to sedate them to get them back in the van. Whenever we would get to our hotel room at the end of the day, Dylann's natural reaction was to leap from one bed to the next like Tarzan. When I came out of the shower one evening, my aunt Wendy was sitting on the bed looking like she had been abandoned in a chimpanzee cage. She said Dylann had been flying through the air on the beds and she just didn't know what to do, so she told them we would go down to the pool if they would calm down, even though we were exhausted and hadn't eaten. We had learned that ceaseless bribery was the only slightly effective tool we had. Without it, we would not be here today.

By our fourth evening here I had found the house I wanted, laid claim to it, and we were unloading the uhaul and the very disgusting van into the garage. That was followed by two days of loading and unloading everything we own from a storage unit into the uhaul and then into the house. As hard as it was, we still had a lot of laughs, mostly because we were so exhausted there was nothing else to do but laugh and laugh and laugh. I don't know how I would have done it without Wendy! There would have been a lot less exhausted laughing and more angry cursing. She was a lifesaver on this trip.

We managed to stay pretty upbeat throughout everything, because each little hurdle is one more thing to check off the list and it all leads up to that day which is now less than one month away. We'll be back at the parade field waiting for the white buses to pull in and unload a group of very tired, very hardworking people who will be able to go home for the first time in many months. Until then I will be waiting just as patiently as the boys were on the drive down here.

uhaul, i haul, we all haul

2008-02-22T08:46:00.013-06:00

4 People

+ 1 cat

+ 1 Uhaul trailer

Traveling at 50 MPH for 1500 miles

a. Fun times

b. Something to laugh about later

c. Doom

Answer will be posted soon.

Goodbye Duluth, Stay Cool

2008-02-21T21:32:00.013-06:00

Every time I've come back to Duluth since I left after graduation, I've always had to drive through the areas where I grew up. Something about them holds a certain magic.

I remember being in these places as a kid day after day. The spots that still look almost the same are like little monuments to childhood for me.

As places become more run down and new gas stations and bars pop up, the area becomes more and more unrecognizable. A while back I decided to take some pictures before things changed too much.

They're not the most beautiful or squeaky clean parts of Duluth, but they will always be the places I want to see when I come to town.

Getting tired of the packing

2008-02-19T19:45:00.003-06:00

Only a few more days to go!

Apparently I have two personalities

2008-02-16T22:24:00.003-06:00

One is upbeat and has a belief in the goodness of the world.

The other is a torrent of bitchiness.

It keeps things interesting. And spontaneous! Who am I today? Am I a grizzly bear or a teddy bear? Look at me the wrong way and find out!

Leaving and returning

2008-02-15T08:52:00.013-06:00

Everything is coming together with the move, slowly, like an old jigsaw puzzle you find at a garage sale and never know if any pieces are missing until you get the whole thing together. Our house has achieved the look of a crack house once again, except it is a very clean crack house. Someone started scrubbing like a maniac and couldn't stop. Then they dumped the contents of the closets on the floor and threw legos all over. That's what it looks like. In a nutshell.

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away I have a husband who will actually be leaving the little plywood shack that has been his home and will be delivered back to us, postage prepaid in about 5 weeks. He will have been gone for 15 months. When he gets back, I will never let him leave the house again.

Suffering from Early-Onset Nostalgia

2008-02-10T21:48:00.001-06:00

With the move coming closer and closer, I decided now would be a great time to get all the videos together that I've taken over the past year and make them into movies complete with music to burn to DVD's for family here in Minnesota. Isn't that nice? I enjoy waiting until the worst possible time to start huge, time-consuming projects. This could all be related to my chronic procrastination, but I'll worry about that when the time comes.

I look at these fairly recent videos and see them as if it's 10 years from now and I'm thinking, look how cute and small they are, if only they were still that size! Suddenly I'm imagining them leaving for college. Jack has a goatee and a guitar and Dylann has 10 girlfriends. They call me Ma. I don't mind.

It's like I'm either looking back at their ages and remembering what it was like when they were younger, or I'm imagining what it will be like when they are older and doing things on their own, like wiping themselves and washing their own hair without having an emotional breakdown. They're so old! They're so young! I'm such a nut!

Then I begin to worry that I'm not appreciating their ages right now because I'm so caught up in the daily grind, washing dishes, picking up toys, locking myself in the bathroom, and taking a mental note of how many times I say things that sound completely ridiculous like, what did you think was going to happen when you did that? or the very effective how many times have I told you?! How original. It's like suddenly I'm channeling some annoying woman from the 50's and I have no control over what I'm saying or doing.

In a way, it seems like it's impossible to really appreciate the ages they are until I step back and see things from a distance. Because at the time, there are plenty of little struggles that come along with what stage they are in. There is an ever-changing array of challenges. But seeing a video of only the cute, funny, and beautiful moments combined with heartwarming music reminds me how adorable they are at this age, right now. So I guess that's what it takes. I just go along complaining about my children and then realize when I see a video that they are actually angelic (especially accompanied by Jack Johnson) and I should spend every day holding their hands and squeezing them because it won't be long and they'll be grown up and telling me how much they wished their mom had only truly appreciated them during the tender years, instead of spouting off outdated threats and warnings like a robot. Way to go, Ma.

Random pieces of information

2008-02-02T22:11:00.000-06:00

Did you know that people who were born in 1990 will be able to buy cigarettes this year? 1990. Wow.

I found one of Jack's favorite movies on DVD and bought it, without noticing it's in Japanese. He watches it anyway and now he walks around babbling things like, "Eedonay! Dootee nana bittee!"

Dylann has let me know that most of the things I suggest he do with his time, like not hopping up and down while he eats dinner and not throwing things at the walls are very bad ideas. I am boring. And stupid. Where is my sense of fun? Where is my excitement if not in throwing toys all over the house and beating people up? I really don't know.

Apparently one of the greatest things about having a little brother is seeing what you can get him to eat. How about broccoli with ketchup? Not too bad. Now to push the envelope...a peanut butter covered olive that's floating in your juice! You can see Dylann's eyes light up, let's see just how far he's willing to go. And Jack's eyes say, wow, I am hardcore.

It's also fun to have lively discussions with your brother about poop and barfing. You know you've done it right when your mother spends an entire day with her face frozen in horror.

It's very interesting to think that one month from now we will be living in a house that we will find and rent in southern Georgia. In the next few weeks oodles of things need to happen in order for that to come true. How interesting to imagine I will accomplish them all. Go me. No, seriously...GO!!

An update from Jack

2008-02-01T17:26:00.001-06:00

I'm a transformer with wings that can fold up three times and I'm blue, but sometimes I can turn black and be a shadow. I have a head that can come right off and I can carry it and I run faster than someone doing cartwheels, but slower than a cheetah. But you know what? When I run, I transform and then I see monsters. And I can BLAST INTO OUTER SPACE!!!!!

Hey, look it's 4 AM.

2008-01-28T09:59:00.000-06:00

Falling asleep is somewhat of an accomplishment for me. The moment I lay down in bed, my brain throws a party. I remember things that I thought were long gone. I think of 30 new ideas. I look at the clock and smack myself in the face. I figure out what I should wear for the next 90 days. I stand on my head. I realize that there may be a ghost or an intruder in the house. I lay still and hope they don't bother me. I look at the clock and poke myself in the eye. Finally when I have planned out the next 27 years, made staggering psychological breakthroughs and discovered the meaning of life, I begin drifting off to sleep. Then as I am hanging there in between asleep and awake... peaceful... happy... almost looking like I am dead, my big fat cat comes flying across the room, scrambling all over with his claws until he lands on my chest and stares at me. Then I have a heart attack and the cycle repeats itself.

By the time I wake up in the morning I have forgotten every epiphany I had the night before including my own name and where I am and why my bed looks like I've lived in it for a week and rode it across the Amazon. I emerge like a dazed car crash survivor with hair that has been meticulously shaped into a swan. After I've recovered from seeing myself in the mirror, I spend the day as a normal person. Then night rolls around again and I lay down to realize that I am indeed a lunatic.

My pants are on fire. Give me some unsweetened tea.

2008-01-25T00:01:00.000-06:00

I have a habit of copying the accent of whoever I am talking to and it is one of those things that I just can't help doing. It's like a reflex. You say ya'll, I say ain't. You say where he at? I say he be at wal-mart. I'm sure people find this a very endearing quality as I appear to openly mock them by fumbling along in their particular dialect with my Minnesotan pronunciations. Once you've lived here for at least 6 months, your mouth forms an O and stays there. You start speaking like you are some kind of Swedish/German/Canadian hybrid. OH ya, I bet she didn't like that, eh? The oh ya must be said with a sing song, like you are yodeling across the valley to a neighbor, hoping they will join you later for lutefisk and/or clogging.

In the south everything happens in s - l - o - w - m - o - t - i - o - n. Even the words come out slowly, like people just can't muster up the effort to get them out any faster. I attribute it to the heat. When it's that hot and humid out, what's the hurry? Let's all just relax, take it down a notch and watch some Nascar.

I never picked up any kind of accent in the south (except when I was unsuccessfully mimicking someone), but I did learn a few very important lessons. Lesson number one: When someone gives you a date and time that they will arrive to fix something or hook something up at your house, they ACTUALLY mean they will be there three days later. Obviously you are some kind of uptight, crazy workaholic if you think that someone should be there on time...IN THIS HEAT and with all these bugs to swat at.

Lesson number two: Iced tea is not iced tea. It is sweet tea. Here is the recipe: Make iced tea. Very refreshing. Now add two tablespoons of sugar. Pretty good. Add thirty more. Done! At a restaurant, you must specify if you want unsweetened tea, but when you do they will almost always bring you sweet tea anyway, because they're sure that's what you meant. For the kids, if you order milk, you will have to repeat it 3 times if you are not imitating the accent properly. They will still not understand what that word is that's coming out of your mouth and will finally conclude that you are saying Coke.

Lesson number three: The people are friendly! Be prepared for people on the street to talk to you like you have known each other your whole lives. I liked that, but it always caught me off guard. My natural reaction tends to be "alright, what are you selling?" when approached by strangers. I am very approachable.

Up north of course, we don't have the heat to slow us down. We have the opposite problem. People run around this time of year like their pants are on fire. They are actually trying to prevent their nose hairs from shattering. Living up north, lesson number one: Move with a purpose or parts of your body will turn blue and die. And no one around here will have any sympathy for you. You might score a free ride on the back of a Ski-Doo, but that's about it.

Lesson number two: Don't approach strangers unless you need a shovel or their money. They will assume you want their shovel or their money and will react accordingly. If you don't want either of these things, they will be insulted. There's no time for chit chat when it's -50 and your eyelids just froze shut.

And lesson number three: The most important member of society in our city is a meteorologist. He knows whether today will be unsafe for exposing bare flesh or unnaturally warm or raining brimstone from the sky. Everyone in the city will pop their umbrellas open, smile, shrug and say, "George said it would be like this!"

Home is wherever we are

2008-01-23T10:17:00.000-06:00

I know I’ve been writing a lot about moving, but it’s on my mind these days because I’m in the process of packing boxes and giving them intriguing labels like “BOOKS/CHRISTMAS TREE STAR/LEGO GUY HEADS”. We have about 3 ½ years of this left before Donn is done with the military. Sometimes we like to talk about how our lives will be different then. We imagine settling down somewhere, buying a house, getting a dog, being able to remember our current address without stopping to think of where we live at the moment, but it was the specific where that we were always hung up on.

Some people seem to instinctively know that a certain place feels like home and there is nowhere else they would rather be. Most of the time it seems to be where they grew up, but sometimes it’s a place they only visited and realized that was the place they wanted to hang their hat. We figured maybe we just hadn’t had that moment yet.

We wanted to choose carefully, because it would be the backdrop of our life as a family. The kids would hold memories of it forever, hopefully as a place where discoveries unfolded and where each house and each street remained preserved in a story of their own, as seen through their eyes. I wanted it to be a beautiful place with weather that wasn't too hot or cold in a city that was neither too big or too small. A place they would come back to and admire, thinking this is where I grew up.

Now that the second deployment is almost over, I think we are letting go of the where. It's clear now that we could make a home anywhere and the boys will find it magical as long as we are all under the same roof. And we're not very picky about what piece of land that happens to be on.

I didn't color on their heads with a sharpie. Not today anyway.

2008-01-19T12:38:00.001-06:00

It was haircut time and the boys both wanted to have this look:

Bald, with a blue arrow colored on their scalps.

Although it would have been interesting to see the reactions on strangers when they realized that my children were indeed the new Avatars, or that we were members of a cult where it is important that all attention be directed between the eyes, we opted for almost bald. Meet my fuzzy-headed boys.

Call at your own risk

2008-01-17T15:53:00.000-06:00

I have a problem with phone calls. I like them, but now they are a problem. I've enjoyed phone calls since 5th grade when I would talk to my friends (who lived about 10 minutes away) for hours at a time about important topics like Trapper Keepers and unicorns and the delightful activities of our cats. Now I have friends who live all over and we don't talk very often, so phone calls are a chance to catch up. But they are a problem.

Caller: Yeah, so blah, blah and I was like what's the deal with this guy and I don't even know what to say to him because he's like making all these faces...

Me: (screaming, crying, incoherent cries of outrage) Yeah...

Caller: So blah, blah and the puppy fell on the floor and blah blah we ate a pie blah blah david hasselhoff.

Me: (thumping sounds resembling a crowbar-wielding madman destroying the house amidst shrieks of laughter as a cat meows inconsolably in the background)

Caller: What on earth is going on over there?!

Me: (THUMP, BANG, RIP, GORE, SCREAMING BANSHEE) What do you mean?

Caller: Is everything alright??!!!

Me: (AHHH! MOM, HE'S KILLING ME!!!!!!) Oh, the kids are playing.

How dreadful to make my aquaintance

2008-01-14T22:00:00.001-06:00

Hello. My name is Crabby McCrabbypants. I am crabby.

I am crabby at least part of every day. I wake up crabby. I have coffee and become JUBILANT! Then it is a slow deterioration throughout the day, because I can only tolerate so much contact with people and can only do so many errands and can only keep my eyes open for so long before I become Crabby McCrabbypants.

The only thing that makes me feel better is something funny, so I depend on my husband to grab me by the shoulders and say, “Laugh woman!” And then we laugh and laugh and laugh. But he’s not here, so…

Hello. My name is Crabby McCrabbypants. I am crabby.

I have to write this fast, before my clothes go out of style

2008-01-14T18:48:00.000-06:00

I'm losing track of what's in style. I think I am still supposed to know, because I'm not out of my twenties yet. First it's hip to wear skinny jeans, then flared jeans, then loose-fitting jeans, then curvy and low-rise and ultra-low rise and butt-crack revealing, then it starts all over again. And matching, matching is good until suddenly it's bad and you should mix patterns unless you want to look like a toad. Colors, jewel tones are good now, brown is the new black, gray is the new brown, and gold is the new silver. Pastels are barf. Unless you are in Vogue magazine and then you can wear anything, even a burlap sack and burlap will be the new tweed.

A few years ago I started trying to buy clothes that were more classic than trendy, which means that some days I am dressed like a 48 year-old on the verge of another hot flash. I figure it's a sign I'm getting older when the high school kids' clothes and hairstyles look a little wacky to me. I mean they look cute, but what's up with the hair in the face now? It's always falling down over one eye like, "Don't look at me. I am emotional."

I guess it's the natural progression. After graduation, people run out of the time and energy needed to stand in front of a mirror debating what precise combination of clothing and accessories will properly project their mood for the day. It's not that I don't care anymore, it's just not that important that my outfit says, "I am a relatively nice person who has a problem with authority."

It will be funny when our generation gets old and the nursing homes are teeming with old folks in hoodies, demanding to watch the Real World. You kids don't know how good you've got it! Back in the day we didn't have iPods! We had boomboxes that took 6 batteries and we carried them on our shoulders!! We didn't have eBay, we had garage sales and that meant shuffling through some stranger's junk in a dank garage, hoping to find some zubaz in your size!

Don't kill the pig boys, go ice skating!

2008-01-11T00:20:00.000-06:00

At the beginning of winter, staying indoors with the kids is fine. Then suddenly, the big climax of Christmas is over and things get ugly. It's like Lord of the Flies. The kids are bored and violent. It's only a matter of time before poor Piggy will get it.

The boys have been hoping to try skating and I decided now would be the time to get going with that. When we bought the skates, the boys convinced me they needed black ski masks too, so we could swing by the bank and conduct a quick hold-up on our way to the rink. This would be Jack's dream come true because he has often confessed to me that he wants to have a career as a bankrobber one day. After he has retired from being a pirate.

That first day, Jack waddled around stiff-legged, not daring to move too fast. He kept smiling and saying, "I can't believe how good I'm getting!" Dylann cruised around, falling constantly, but getting back up without a word and moving right along. He watched the older boys intently, seeing how they turned their feet so the blades hit the ice just right to bring themselves to a stop. After an hour of skating, he taught himself how to do that too.

Jack climbed the mountains of snow surrounding the rink and announced that this was the north pole. A couple times he fell over and couldn't get up, just like the kid on A Christmas Story. Dylann helped him back up. Even though brothers routinely smack each other as hard as they can for no reason, they help each other up when times are tough.

As it got later, the lights on the ice made it seem even more cold. You could see where countless kids, and a few grown ups, had cut their own marks into the ice. Older boys stumbled out of the ice shack in t-shirts and jeans and random pieces of outerwear, gloves, hats, scarves, taking a few laps around the ice before ducking back into the shack where it was warm.

Watching the boys skate in the dark, standing on the cold ice in nothing more than running shoes with warm socks, I realized something. My mind wasn't creating lists of things to buy at the grocery store and I wasn't taking inventory of all the junk I have to pack and give away. I wasn't even pondering how much it would cost to have an entire room of the house padded with foam and soundproofed, you know, as a playroom.

At least for a while, I knew that I was exactly where I wanted to be.

One Giant Leap

2008-01-09T00:02:00.000-06:00

Well, it's official. We'll be uprooting, shaking the dust off (as if we have had time to gather dust) and be transplanted into the muddy soil of jolly old England for three years! That is, after we move to Georgia and spend a few months there first.

My best friend and her husband just happen to live in the same area we'll be living in (her husband works on a base there, but we never thought we would wind up at the same one, or even in the same country for that matter) so we will be able to trade in the 60 minute phone calls for actual face-to-face conversations (and with food! she cooks really good food!). And the boys will get to experience things like beans for breakfast and public drunkenness!

The next 6 months are going to be crazy! And good!

Won't you be my neighbor?

2008-01-07T09:01:00.000-06:00

We've had quite an assortment of characters for neighbors over the past six years, because we've moved so many times. In our very first place in Seoul, we never got to know most of our neighbors, but we had a roommate. His name was John and he would eat a whole frozen pepperoni pizza for dinner with big glasses of chocolate milk almost every single night. He liked to blast music that sounded like a big room full of people being killed.

Then we moved to Colorado and lived in military housing, where you are in very close proximity to your neighbors. The family in the unit attached to ours was very nice, had loads of animals - cats, dogs, reptiles, fish, and we watched each others kids sometimes. There was also a lady who lived in the unit behind ours and she would stop by with her little boy, who was 3 and liked to break things. At the time Dylann was only about 18 months old and I would wonder why her kid didn't know how to be gentle with things and why he thought it was thrilling to pee outside. Obviously, I didn't know much about little boys.

After our first year in Colorado, we rented a house off base and said goodbye to our old neighbors. Our new neighborhood was very typically suburban with houses that all looked so similar you could get lost just walking around the block. We never officially met our neighbors on either side of us, but we met the lady across the street IMMEDIATELY. She filled me in on all the other neighbors and the previous owners of the house we were living in (red flag!). You could tell she was the type who would know at any given moment if an unfamiliar vehicle drove by..."Hmm, that sounds like a '98 Chevy Suburban with tinted windows and the child safety locks disabled. Who on earth could that be?" Her family had the biggest house on the block and it watched over the neighborhood with its giant reflective windows. I had never seen windows like that on a house before, only on office buildings. I spent the next year feeling like I lived across from one of those giant interrogation room mirrors, imagining Patrice standing on the other side with binoculars. In all the times I talked to her, I never received evidence to the contrary. She always knew every mundane thing that was going on in minute detail.

At that time we also had a neighbor across the street who had 3 kids, but you never saw the youngest. The oldest two were always outside, left to their own devices. This gave Patrice something to watch, with her binoculars. Sometimes they even had very vocal fights over the fence where the lady would shout, "My husband makes $60,000 a year!!" And Patrice would shout, "Ha! Ha! That is how much I paid for these binoculars! Do you know that your son broke a worm into 5 pieces the other day and fed it to the ants that live in the sidwalk?!"

In Georgia we had the German neighbors with 8 kids and the guy next door who tended rosebushes from sunrise to sunset, every day. The first time we met the Germans they were talking about how American neighbors are so private and that they didn't know many people on the block. They wanted neighbors where the kids all go to each others' houses and the doors are always open and all that. We thought, yes, that's very sad, now excuse us while we go disappear in our house and never speak to you again.

The Germans turned out to be good neighbors and our kids played together all the time. They took care of our cat when we were out of town. The rosebush guy always chatted with the kids and kept an eye out for troublemakers, but not like Patrice behind the interrogation mirror, he was right out in the front lawn. They were good neighbors.

In Minnesota we have had great neighbors. The lady next door trudged over after we had gotten over a foot of snow to bring a bucket of homebaked goodies. The neighbors on the other side of us plowed us out twice after a big snow. There are lots of kids and they all play together.

After we move we'll get to start all over again with new neighbors. Maybe they will be friendly and helpful, maybe they will have reflective windows and binoculars, maybe they will never introduce themselves and we'll never know who they are. As long as they don't have a problem with little boys who break things and think it's thrilling to pee outside, I guess we'll be alright.

Still haven't heard anything about the move!

Minnesota Friday

2008-01-04T07:45:00.000-06:00

In less than two months we will be moving back down to southern Georgia. It will be quite the change of scenery, but it will be great not to have to wear 5 layers of clothing or risk losing our extremities. I like having sensation in my fingers and toes. I don't like it when the temperature outside is colder than in the refrigerator.

After we get down there, we'll be staying put for 4 months and then moving again in July, but we don't know where yet. The army will let us know today when it wanders leisurely over to the computer and finishes its coffee (black, of course). It could be Korea, could be England, could be Hawaii, could be Arizona...could be Germany, could be Colorado, could be Alaska....all we have to do is wait. I don't mind. Wait, wait, wait. Hmm. I think I'll flip through this magazine... AHH! MY EYE IS TWITCHING UNCONTROLLABLY!!! FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT'S HOLY, COME ON!!!

Wait, don't run away! I'M YOUR BIGGEST FAN!!

2008-01-02T09:14:00.001-06:00

When I was about 7 years old my best friend and I watched the movie Big Business, with Bette Midler and Lily Tomlin (I'll save my love fest for Lily Tomlin for another time - I know you are disappointed). When I mention this movie to people, they almost always have no idea what I'm talking about. I'm fairly certain we were the only two 7 year olds who were more obsessed with a cheesy Bette Midler movie than The Little Mermaid. For some reason, that particular movie really made an impression on us. Perhaps it was the yodeling or Bette Midler's giant hat. From that point on there was a period of at least 2 years when we were pretending to be Bette Midler. We watched the movie over and over and over until we could re-enact almost the entire script without the TV on. This probably explains a lot.

Shortly afterwards Beaches came out and her popularity soared. I figured everyone else was finally realizing what we already knew. Bette Midler was the coolest thing since side-ponytails and garbage pail kids. I started asking for Bette Midler movies for my birthday and Christmas and I did 2 reports on her in school (that was when she filed the restraining order - totally unnecessary).

Once I found what I believed to be her address in one of those teen magazines, but because this was no frivolous affair, I put off writing to her until I was older and wiser. I hoped to be able to say what I wanted without sounding like every other fan. So I never wrote the letter. Because when it came down to it, I was just another fan.

But come on, who doesn't like a little Bette Midler now and then? Especially in her early years when she was wild and outspoken with live shows that were totally unpredictable, like this one described in an article for Circus:

"Since California state statutes were being changed at midnight to reduce the penalty for possession of small amounts of marijuana to misdemeanor, Bette wanted to tape a joint to the bottom of every seat of the theater as a New Year's surprise. Her staff had purportedly rolled 1800 joints before word leaked out and the project was halted by the district attorney's office. Still determined to give her audience that little something extra, at the stroke of midnight, goes the story, Bette dropped the top of her dress and manager Aaron Russo dropped the curtain."

I think the main thing that made Bette Midler stand out to me was her honesty. She didn't tiptoe around something, she just said it. She knew she was good at what she did and wasn't afraid to show it. She didn't care what the critics said, because she was doing what she loved to do and she wasn't even apologetic for being tacky, she reveled in it.

"I married a German. Every night I dress up as Poland and he invades me."

"I never know how much of what I say is true."

"Group conformity scares the pants off me because it's so often a prelude to cruelty towards anyone who doesn't want to - or can't - join the Big Parade."

-Bette Midler

News flash - Someone in Toledo clogged a toilet

2007-12-31T09:49:00.000-06:00

I remember when I was growing up, the news sounded so boring and adult, but somehow it made sense that grown ups enjoyed it because they loved boring activities like balancing checkbooks and cutting coupons and cleaning. And sleeping. Grown ups were always unbelievably tired, although it was unclear why because they never even did the monkey bars at the playground.

Back then it seemed that the news wasn't as overwhelming as it is today. We are bombarded with news, which is not necessarily a good thing, because really important events are not always included. The amount of news doesn't increase the quality of the news, it just means they examine certain things from every angle possible and they throw in a bunch of celebrity news.

The national news networks have been at it for a long time, but recently one of our local news stations has started offering AN HOUR AND A HALF of local news in the evening, versus all the other stations with their measly 30 minutes. Let me tell you, there is not enough news here to fill up an entire hour and a half every single night. Of course, that's in addition to the morning news, the afternoon news, and the late night news.

They had a big special on a couple weeks ago because it was the 10 year anniversary of a fire in the news station and they managed to scrape together a news broadcast for the next morning by staying up all night drawing the weather charts by hand. I am sure that these newscasters were thrilled to stay up all night doing this, because news around here is pretty uneventful. Unless you are a deer, because then people are hiding in the trees hoping to shoot you.

For a taste of some local news, I'll share from a local paper that includes a section on all the latest police reports*:

September 28

A deer ran into the side of squad 14 at 11:27 p.m. There appeared to be no damage.

October 1

High School reported vandalism to the north wall of the new gym.

At 12:44 p.m. a resident reported a large deer had part of a fence caught in his antlers and it appeared he was going to collapse. When squads arrived they observed the deer had a hammock wrapped in its antlers, but the deer took off when they approached. Police were going to contact the DNR office to see if they had any suggestions.

Individual was arrested for theft at 10:05 p.m. after getting a cab ride to the hospital and not paying the $15 fare.

October 4th

At 5:38 p.m. a resident reported she spotted the deer with a hammock in his horns in the woods next to her house. She knew the police were looking for it.

At 7:35 p.m. a complainant on 24th Street reported there was a bear underneath her porch. The DNR was notified and the bear eventually moved into the woods.

At 9:31 p.m. a complainant reported three young males wrote on a mail box, then headed to the nearby park. Officers responded, located the three youths. One juvenile was tab charged and the other two were escorted to their homes.

Obviously, we are in dire need of more news coverage.

*The news stations do cover a rather large area, including many rural areas and we happen to live in a more rural area, but even the main city's crime rate is probably about the same as Bedford Falls.

Time flies when you're wearing clothes

2007-12-28T01:39:00.000-06:00

Lately I've been noticing how old a lot of my clothes are. Although it seems to me that I should still be about 21, my clothes betray this timelessness by going out of style and falling apart before my very eyes. I had a pair of shoes that I loved and wore at least 4 times a week and they always seemed relatively new because I JUST bought them, until they got a little holey and I realized that was 4 years ago.

My favorite pants also seemed newish, until I realized that I was wearing them while pregnant with Jack, which means they are about 5 years old. I know this seems like nothing, compared to people who hold onto their clothes for over 10 years and never even realize that no one is wearing parachute pants anymore. But the aging of my clothes only reinforces my belief that time is passing by so quickly, I barely have time to brush my teeth and comb the rat's nest out of my hair and a week has come and gone. It seems to have sped up around the time I had Dylann and has only increased speed since then. Soon I will be rolling out of bed and running desperately around the house (trying not to slosh coffee out of my mug that I will hold in a death grip because if I don't get enough caffeine intake I might blink and three days will have passed) in an attempt to finish something before the sun sets and the moon is out and it's 2 AM and everyone has been in bed for 4 hours and I am standing there saying, "What happened to 1999?!"

Stop sending me robot poop

2007-12-27T10:43:00.001-06:00

Once in a while, I submit things I write to publishers, hoping that they will read whatever I wrote and publish it. That's generally how it goes. Then I wait for at least two months to hear back from them, which comes in the form of some generic letter that reads like it was written by a robot. And not a friendly robot, a cruel, emotionless robot who spits the rejection letters directly out of its rear end into an envelope where the letter begins its journey to my mailbox.

Some publishers will let you submit via e-mail, but this does not speed up the process at all. A few months ago I submitted something to The New Yorker and 2 months later I recieved a reply. It was the most non-descript email I've ever recieved. The sender was not recognizable and my only clue that it was from The New Yorker was upon opening it and reading its one and only sentence. "Blah, blah, The New Yorker cannot use your material at this time." It was literally signed "The Editors." No name, just The Editors, as if I don't know that it was probably some intern named Gavin who has to read submitted manuscripts in between trips to the coffee shop to bring his boss a fat free, organic muffin and each time a little part of him dies inside.

It makes me wonder if publishers understand how hard it is to write something and send it in to them and wait on pins and needles for months. Don't they want to encourage writers to keep writing? If they are going to send out generic letters can't they at least contain more than one sentence and offer some words of wisdom all wrapped up with someone's actual name signed at the bottom?

I would like to send them a query letter that says:

I wrote a good story about you falling down the stairs and hitting your head. I look forward to hearing from you.

Signed,
The Writer With Anger Issues

Merry Christmas from paradise

2007-12-24T00:38:00.002-06:00

Since it’s Christmas Eve day, I decided to share my own version of the much loved “Christmas Letter”, wherein you update friends and family on all of the exciting events in your life. I've never written one, so I figured I'd give it a shot.

Dear Friends & Family,

There have been many changes in our lives over the past year and I thought a Christmas letter would be the best way to let everyone share in our experiences. In January, Donn deployed to Iraq and we moved from Georgia to Minnesota. Has anyone ever traveled with a portable litterbox in the passenger seat because all of the other space, including breathing room is filled with junk? What a fun experience! I still find traces of cat hair and blood, sweat, and tears in the van and think fondly on those days.

Once we moved into our apartment, we thought about hiring a maid to deal with all the mess, but the maid was not willing to work for Cheez-Its, so unfortunately that didn’t work out. I tried teaching the children to cook and clean so that I could maximize my TV watching/moping time, but they kept whining that the knives were too sharp and the onions made them cry. BOO HOO.

Dylann is involved in karate and gymnastics, what an ambitious little fellow! He has so much energy! One time I told him to stop pulling all the cushions off the couches, because they are not trampolines and he responded by running up the walls and on the ceiling while laughing maniacally and sweating profusely without a shirt on. What an amazing kid!

Jack is a cuddly guy with a strong interest in violence. He’s four years old and he can already bring a grown man to his knees. We are unbelievably proud!

Well, I will wrap this up. I want to wish you all a merry Christmas from our beautiful home, located across the street from a lively bar.

Love,
Another Happy Family

Tastes like fiction

2007-10-01T08:43:00.000-05:00

I've been reading a lot lately and thought I'd share some books I really liked. They're not all fiction. They just taste like it. Delicious.

Life of Pi was amazing. The detail and depth Yann Martel goes into describing the fantastical places and experiences in the book completely immerses you. The main character is Pi, who lives in India and fervently practices Islam, Christianity, and Hinduism simultaneously. The family leaves India for Canada on a Japanese ship and there is a shipwreck, which leads to the many extraordinary events Pi faces afterwards. I don't want to give too much away, but the ending brings it all together and leaves you with a lot to think about. Rumor has it there will be a movie based on this in 2009.

I just finished Random Family about a week ago and it is a definite page turner. I was up late into the night many times reading it, totally engrossed in the lives of the characters. The author, Adrian Nicole LeBlanc, followed the lives of two families in the Bronx to write this book and the result is like a window into the world of the ghetto, where poverty reigns and people do anything they can to get by. One of the most amazing things about Random Family is the amount of time the author spent with these families (11 years) and the detail she goes into to be accurate. The lives of the characters are nothing like most of middle America and you truly never know what will happen to them from one moment to the next.

I haven't seen the movie yet, but this book was nutty and wonderful, like an Almond Joy. Augusten Burroughs writes a lot like David Sedaris, if he had been raised by an insane mother who turned over guardianship of him to her psychiatrist, who was probably the least sane person in the whole book. This is a memoir and that is one of the things that makes this book so good. You can't believe that all these things actually happened to someone and that he survived with mental facilities intact to tell about it.

Old Timey Photo at Grandma's

2007-09-21T08:29:00.001-05:00

For some reason I love this low-quality, grainy picture I took with my phone yesterday.

The Way of the Ninja

2007-09-20T10:14:00.000-05:00

Over the past few years we have taken Dylann to a few different sports. The idea being that his energy level (equal to or greater than that of a Jack Russell terrier) is so intense and his love for trying to stand on his head, climb walls, and jump off bunkbeds could be put to good use with some athletic involvement. First we did t-ball. This was not much of an athletic involvement, because they spent most of the time wondering what they should do first, pick flowers, draw shapes in the sand, or go after the ball.

Next we did gymnastics. Now that is a good workout. But I noticed that the parents could be a little EXTREME. As in, some of them actually homeschool their children so they can pursue gymnastics every day of the week for hours at a time. It was annoying to see an out of shape woman get up from the bleachers, walk into her daughter's class area and correct her while she was busy trying to do 3,068 lunges across the room.

I started thinking about kids sports and how the different parent personalities can be displayed by what sport their kid is in. Because it is clearly the parent's choice, and the kid has little say in the matter. It makes sense, because the parent will be equally as involved in the sport at this age.

This year I was thinking about signing Dylann up for hockey. I called a lady in the area to find out more about how often they practice and how often games are. This lady was extremely enthusiastic about hockey. She excitedly told me that registration is $100 and you need to make a $200 deposit (which will be refunded if you volunteer with the team for 20 hours) and they would also need a check for $60 to purchase tickets to a fundraiser which you are then in charge of selling and if they don't sell, you just made a donation to the team. And then of course, you have to purchase equipment. Practices are twice a week until games start and then you meet three times a week and then there are tournaments sometimes for a whole Saturday. Needless to say, the parents with kids in hockey are very competitive and dedicated. Which sounds a little odd when you're talking about 5 year olds.

I decided on a community ed Tae Kwon Do class. We showed up for the first class in a local middle school gym. A quick scan over the other parents revealed one lady with her nose in a book tucked away in a corner of the gym, two guys with glasses talking (possibly about the way of the ninja or the powers of the liger) and one was holding a comic book guide, and one lady who laughed along with me when the kids asked goofy questions or made announcements like, "Once I kicked really hard and my pants fell off!" Because a group of 5 and 6 year olds doing karate can be funny. I knew right away that we would fit in just fine among this crowd.

I will never get tired of watching this movie.

2007-09-11T14:44:00.000-05:00

"I guess I could be pretty pissed off about what happened to me... but it's hard to stay mad, when there's so much beauty in the world.

Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst...

And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain

and I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life... "

Lester Burnham from American Beauty

One small step

2007-09-05T21:42:00.000-05:00

Fall is here, hear the yell. Back to school, ring the bell. Brand new shoes, walking blues. Climb the fence, books and pens. I can tell that we are going to be friends. I can tell that we are going to be friends.

Walk with me, Susie Lee. Through the park and by the tree. We will rest upon the ground. And look at all the bugs we found. Safely walk to school without a sound. Safely walk to school without a sound.

Here we are, no one else. We walked to school all by ourselves. There's dirt on our uniforms. From chasing all the ants and worms. We clean up and now it's time to learn. We clean up and now it's time to learn.

We Are Going to be Friends by The White Stripes

Waldo, You Wonderful Rascal

2007-09-04T10:57:00.001-05:00

We got back a few days ago from an 8 day trek from our front door to the front door of Donn's cousins and back again. They live near Phoenix and it was a 27 hour drive, which we broke up over 3 days. I decided the only things I was going to bring for the boys were books and markers and paper, because I like to make things as difficult on myself as possible and I am forcing the boys to love books. If there are no alternatives, a book is 10 times better than a poke in the eye.

The only other entertainment they had was to try to drive each other crazy from their car seats, to throw snacks all over the van, or to look peacefully out the window and enjoy the view (rare!). The Where's Waldo book proved to be the best one and they looked at it for hours at a time. We wound up picking up another in Arizona before our drive back.

The drive went amazingly well for the first two days, but the last day was a bit harrowing. We didn't make very many stops because I wanted to get to Phoenix before it got too late. I had estimated an arrival time between 6-8 PM. We got to Flagstaff (150 miles away) at 7:30 and I called to let them know we were getting close. Later than expected, but not too bad. Suddenly from the back seat I hear Dylann say, "Jack is sticking his gum up his nose!" I look back to see Jack smiling that impish grin with his finger in his nose. Before I can do or say anything, his face transforms to a look of panic and he pulls his finger out with a trembling lip. The gum is gone. I immediately start running through possible scenarios. I have no previous experience with foreign objects lodged in the nostril, so I have nothing to work with. I think maybe he will inhale it and it will go into his trachea and he will choke. Maybe he could snort it in and it would go into his throat and he could swallow it. I pull over and grab the tweezers, open the door, ready to save the day. I could see the gum up there, but couldn't get a good hold of it and suddenly it disappeared completely into the secret tunnels of the nose.

I called my grandma, I called Donn's cousin, Amy, I called the doctor. We decided since he could breathe okay, it would be safe to drive to Phoenix and take him to the hospital there. He fell asleep on the way and when we got there, we found the gum had fallen out onto his shirt while he was asleep! Excellent news, because no one wanted to go sit in an emergency room for four hours waiting for a doctor to stick another foreign object in Jack's nose to remove the first one.

After two relaxing days by the pool at Amy and Robbie's, we were backing out of the driveway in their posh subdivision and waving goodbye. Back on the road. We went by the Grand Canyon, which was amazing of course. It's like standing at the edge of the earth and looking at an alien landscape. Dylann was impressed, but Jack acted like we see giant, awe-inspiring canyons 1 mile deep on a regular basis. Whateva.

We also went by Carlsbad Caverns in New Mexico to see 300,000 Mexican Free-Tailed bats take flight at sunset. Jack loves bats, so this was the highlight of the trip for him. The bats were very small, about as long as your thumb, with a wing span of about 8 inches. We sat at the mouth of the cave and waited, waited, gasped and held our breath because we heard a noise....then waited, and waited. Everyone had to be still and quiet, so the bats wouldn't be bothered by the fact that they had an audience. That was the tough part for the boys. Then you could hear this rush of wings and they came swirling out of the cave like smoke. It was really peaceful, watching them emerge in the quiet, warm night air. We were not allowed to take pictures, but I have the feeling bats are probably hard to photograph anyway. It's dark and they're fast.

That was our last fun stop on the trip and we headed home. Now it's back to the cool autumn weather here in Minnesota. Summer is over and Dylann starts school tomorrow....wow. Time goes by so fast.

Telltale Sign Jack has Turned Four

2007-08-21T00:26:00.000-05:00

I had to edit this to say what it is, because it does kind of look like a dead animal. It is the head of a dragon pinata. He's at peace now. No one can beat him with sticks anymore.

Simple Equation for Good Times

2007-07-29T13:01:00.000-05:00

Rocks + Water =

So it's been a while...

2007-07-24T20:50:00.002-05:00

I neglect this blog from time to time and although I have moments of great intentions for it, I am just going to accept the fact that blog updating as a priority will come and go. I know that can be annoying, but I figure most people understand.

We moved into our new place and things have been a lot better. The boys can be their crazy selves and I don't have to worry about anyone else's sanity but my own. Because this is northern Minnesota, we don't have A/C and here's how we spent our day today:

I have no idea what the temperature got to in the house, but it's hot and sticky. We spent the day within reach of the fan or the little swimming pool. It was a reminder of the weather we left behind in Georgia, except there it was a lot worse. You walk outside and start sweating immediately. It's like the sun is literally beating the crap out of you.

On another note, my two best friends from high school are both pregnant with their first, due within weeks of each other. And my cousins, who were like my brothers growing up, both had babies on the way until about a week ago when the first finally made his appearance.

He weighed a whopping 9 lbs. 1 oz. and he is 100% soft, squishy and adorable. All the new baby googliness has brought up two feelings. The first is that I want another baby!!!!! The second is that I don't want another baby. The good thing is that it is physically impossible for me to reproduce for at least 7 more months (when Donn gets back), so this little conundrum can wait.

Jack Speaks and I Laugh

2007-04-26T23:46:00.000-05:00

Recent things Jack has said to crack me up:

The cat taught me how to lick myself.

You're hurting my shadow!

I am trying to sleep but when I close my eyes, they keep popping open!

Do Not Attack Issej

2007-04-22T22:22:00.001-05:00

This weekend has been exciting, just knowing we're about to move into a new place. It seems strange that we're doing all this without Donn. People must assume that I'm divorced or never married, a young thing struggling to get by with her two illegitmate children. Donn gave me instructions to tell everyone that he would be living there too, but I think people might notice that no man actually materialized on the premises. Really, I have a husband! He lives here with me!! We're a happy family!!!!!! I know he's just worried about our safety (in our dangerous town of 308 farmers and 1 convenience store owner) and I can be irresponsible about those things.

My Grandma gave me the tip that I should put our phone under Donn's name in the phone book, so no one assumes I am a woman living alone, ready to be attacked. Or I could always do what one person I know did and spell my name backwards in the phone book. His name was Don and on the caller ID we were always wondering who the heck Nod was.

I have oodles of help for this move and it's nice! I feel spoiled to have so many people around who are obligated to help me because we're all dangling from the branches of the same family tree. I love it! I can call someone up and say, "Hello cousin (or uncle, second-cousin, biological father, great aunt, not-so-great aunt), have you noticed that our DNA has many similarities? I'm calling to cash in on that."

The Life Neurotic

2007-04-20T23:45:00.001-05:00

I keep intending to write a great post and in doing so, I put off writing one until I have an idea that makes me laugh, cry, or scream somewhat severely, or preferably do all three in quick succession, and that great post never comes. Alas, you are stuck here reading my unplanned and poorly pieced together ramble that will probably be about love/life/birth/rebirth/death/loss/coffee/destruction/bodily functions of small children - basically, just a day like any other.

To catch you up to where we are now:

1. Husband flew across the ocean from the swampy, alligator strewn waters of southern Georgia to the dust spewing land in the Middle East, where people are blowing up all over the place.

2. Packed up the children, and two fish, and cat, and crown of thorns plant (who rode comfortably in the passenger seat) to make the trip from nice, temperate Georgia to the icy land known as Minnesota just in time for the lowest temps on record in about 7 years followed by the biggest snowstorm in 15 years...followed by another snowstorm in APRIL. Cheer up you say? Look on the bright side?

3. Husband is still alive. (Dramatic, I know)

4. Son went through various changes to become much more difficult to handle. Simply giving him the wrong color cup could cause him to turn green, bust out of his clothes, and tear the countertop off while shrieking, "MEET MY DEMANDS!!!!! ARRRRGGGG!!!!"

5. Found out husband will not be gone for one year from January, when he left, but he has been extended and will be gone until one year from NOW!

6. Life at Grandma's house didn't go so well and in about a week we are moving into a new apartment, while ALL of our furniture is in storage in Georgia. So far I have managed to gather beds and a kitchen table. The rest I plan to create using cardboard, duct tape, empty toilet paper rolls, saran wrap, and my imagination.

I'm actually really looking forward to moving into an apartment. It's not really an apartment, but more of a duplex. It will be a great area for the boys to play outside and make some friends (that they will hopefully not tie up and beat with sticks). It's kind of in the country, in a really small town with a population of just a few hundred. We'll be only a couple miles from the bike trail that we like to ride on and only about a mile more to the state park where we go "hiking" (as much as you are able to hike with someone who's legs are only about a foot and a half long). The only problem will be the furniture. Need to buy some. Cheap. Or steal some from Grandma.

Mom Jeans

2007-01-26T11:59:00.001-06:00

A Bunk Bed Ate My Arm

2007-01-17T09:09:00.000-06:00

Last night I spent pretty much my whole evening trying to turn this:

Into this:

Ahh, the joys of cheap furniture with instructions that read like an intercept of alien communications. On the box it said 1 1/2 hours to put it together. Six hours later I curled up on the bottom bunk of my own deathbed, blood blistered, exhausted and missing one arm. Although the arm is actually still there and is currently typing away on this blog post, I am sure that in some other dimension, I am missing my arm. It is so sore and tense and it hates me for the way I used it as a monkey would use a rock to break things open.

So it says that this was a two person job. I always find those things to be debatable. I like to put myself in the shoes of Tom Hanks in Castaway, because I want to see if I can, as many a two year old has proclaimed, "Do it myself!" After constructing both beds, I was met with the task of putting one on top of the other. I tried staring like I imagined an architectural genius might stare, trying to really get some inventive thoughts to hit me. To me, this meant hands on hips and show this hunk of wood what the heck you can do!

Once that was accomplished, I managed to put one end up first, rest it on the lower bunk, then use a chair to rest the other end on, align all the posts, jiggle them into place, pinch my finger horribly, almost break the dowely thingie that holds everything together, scream out the window into the cold, snowy night that I am GOING TO FINISH THIS THING!! Then I headed to bed without putting the ladder or the guard rails on, because enough is enough...or I've had it up to HERE...or I don't even want to look at you right now!...or for the love of God, make the madness stop!

So for today there are a few loose ends to be tied up, but how hard can it be??

More from Jack...

2007-01-11T11:01:00.000-06:00

Me: You look tired.

Jack: (lays his head on the cat) This is my pillow.

Me: That's a soft pillow.

Jack: It has a butt.

Kids are gross (but funny!)

2007-01-08T21:42:00.000-06:00

We are here in Minnesota where it is about 10 degrees tonight and the ground is covered in snow, which is quite a change from southern Georgia. The drive was long and horrible and traumatizing for all involved, but we made it here in one piece...fish, cat, plants, kids...we're all alive. I haven't gotten around to updating the look of this blog yet, but I wanted to share something Jack said the other day. We were sitting around the table and Jack walked over looking like he ate something.

Me: What were you eating?

Jack: Chicken.

(Everyone at the table looks confused, because we didn't have any chicken around...)

Me: Where did you get chicken??

Jack: From the garden in my nose.

(photo by Dylann)

The Journey Begins.

2006-12-29T16:27:00.000-06:00

Well, we are one day before the move and here I am blogging. Our house is in such a state of disarray right now. It looks like a crackhouse. We have mattresses on the floor, a TV on the floor, no kitchen table or couches and miscellaneous stuff is scattered everywhere. Jack is sick and leaves a trail of tissues wherever he goes, which doesn’t help matters. At times I am happy to be leaving this place, but it’s also depressing to be moving away to live with my grandma and say goodbye to life as a couple for a while. I feel like I’m moving backwards in a way. It will be yet another adventure for us. Next time I write it will be from Antarctica…and I am planning to give this blog a new look once I'm there.

Curiosity killed the mystery

2006-12-22T11:32:00.000-06:00

I have always been a horrible person to give presents to. As soon as I know there is a present for me somewhere in the world, I will not stop guessing and wheedling my way into finding out what it is before I open it. I have gotten very good at picking up on hints and deciphering what a present is based on its squeezability or shakability. This year, I am trying my best not to do that, because it ruins the whole thing.

It appears I have passed this on to my oldest son. When I finished wrapping one of his presents, he picked it up and shook it ONE time and said with certainty, "It's Legos." I was so caught off guard I had to laugh because he was right, but I stumbled along saying, "NOOO...how would you know?? I didn't buy any legos." With a giant smile on my face that wouldn't go away. He looked very suspisciously at me and said, "It sounds just like Legos."

I remember seeing that same look on my friend's face when I correctly guessed what my birthday gift would be based on nothing more than a comment made two months previous. I had said that the smiley face mug on Friends was cute (this was like 11 years ago) and for some reason I guessed that was what my present was...and I was right!

When I was about 12 I actually went through the receipts in the garbage to find out if I got a Gameboy for Christmas and when I found the receipt for a Gameboy game, I knew all my wildest dreams were about to come true. However, the difficult part was coming up with the surprised, incredulous reaction my family was hoping for when the time came for me to open the "secret Gameboy". It was horrible trying to fake it when I had known for about 2 weeks what was inside that package.

Alas, the vicious cycle of curiosity continues.

A clone would be nice

2006-12-11T14:32:00.000-06:00

Things here are picking up speed these days. The house is a disaster and there's a constant process of packing boxes to contend with. This is the first time we've had to do this ourselves and let me just say that wrapping your stuff with paper fifty times before you box it up simply doesn't seem as important when you're doing the wrapping. We'll be moving in less than 3 weeks! I probably won't be posting much this month (as you can tell). I'll be back when the dust settles. Merry Christmas!

Back at the old homestead

2006-11-29T10:09:00.000-06:00

Another road trip come and gone and like always it was difficult, fun, and thoroughly exhausting. Dylann came down with a cold the day before we left and he had a horrible cough the whole time we were there and Jack and I managed to come down with it the day we left for home, but we had a good time. The drive home was looooong and horrible and we pulled in at about 4 AM, just enough time to catch a few hours of sleep before the kids woke up and drug us out of bed.

I know I normally don't put ANY pictures on here, so I figured I'd pick out just a FEW to share.

Deserted beach houses.

One of Dylann's catches. He actually caught two all by himself! We cooked them up that night and had fresh crab for dinner. It was really good.

Jack was drawn to the trampoline like a magnet.

And just in case this wasn't enough road trip excitement, we get to do an even longer one next month when the boys and I move to Minnesota.

Gone West

2006-11-19T08:24:00.000-06:00

The time has rolled around for another family road trip. This time our destination is the Lone Star state and it will take us about 16 hours to get there. Some of the husband's family lives near Galveston and we'll be spending the week there. I don't think I'll have the chance to update until we get back, so this will be my last post until next week. I'm sure I will have pictures (you know it!) and stories to share. Hopefully the stories won't contain the words, "So the car swerved uncontrollably...!" or "Dylann encountered his first shark the other day..." or anything along those lines. See you when we get back!

He had me at hello.

2006-11-16T15:54:00.000-06:00

It was one of those moments.

Jack noticed a catalogue laying on the desk with the picture of a pleasant woman smiling uncomfortably on the cover and suddenly looked horrified.

Jack: I don't like her!

Me: Why? She's looks nice.

Jack: I don't like those kinds of girls.

Me: Why not?

Jack: I just don't!

Me: What kind do you like?

Jack: (sticks his finger in my ribs) This kind.

My old child

2006-11-15T09:18:00.000-06:00

Dylann tried on his friend's football uniform the other day and when I looked at this picture, I couldn't help but notice that he looks like he's 20!!! Maybe more like 15....or 7...but definitely much older than he actually is! It's like a glimpse of what he will look like when he's older. The husband doesn't agree, so maybe it's just me.