Today in the Car

Caroline was discussing her boyfriends after school today. "I have Oliver and Josh. One at school and one at church. And they are both black. Well, actually they're brown."

"Caroline, what does it mean that they are your boyfriends? Do you hold hands?" She responded, "No".

"Sit by each other?"

"No."

"OK, so you have these boyfriends, but all it really means is that you all know you like each other which makes you too embarrassed to even talk to them, right?"

Jonathan decided to pipe in, "Pretty much."

Caroline defended herself. "We talk!"

"And what in the world do you have two boyfriends for?" I continued.

"Because mumsy, I need a boyfriend and a spare, in case one doesn't work out."

"Work out for what?" I asked, genuinely curious. "And when and how will you know one hasn't worked out?"

Jonathan piped in again from the very back of the Suburban. "Maybe she'll keep both of them, mom. You've always said girls are good at multi-tasking."

What could I say. "I didn't mean boys when I said that."

Today in the car

Stranded

Yesterday Gabriel ran up to me and said, "Mom, I have to go to the bathroom!" It is the "who's going to wipe my buns off when I'm done" dilemma that the little people face. I hollered to Jonathan to listen for his call, and headed to the shower.

When I turned off the shower, I could hear a little voice downstairs yelling desperately, "I'm DONE!!" Poor chap had been hollering for 10 minutes, and Jonathan was off with his head in the clouds and failed to notice.

It must be a terrible moment as a three year old sitting on the toilet, slowly losing all feeling in your legs, and reflecting on the fact that even though there are 10 people in the household, no one is available to take care of you. You could be sitting on the toilet forever. And what a depressing end that would be.

P.S. We are 10 now because Margarita lives with us, and Grandpa arrived three days ago, and will be staying several weeks.

The Itching Continues

Yesterday after a week of steroids, eye drops, and allergy meds I was actually in worse condition than upon my first visit to the doctor. Thoroughly frustrated, irritated and over it, I marched myself into the office, sat upon the table, and laid out my woes to the nurse who looked rather confused. I told her I did not think the drops actually contained any meds, and whatever the problem was, it had yet to be properly diagnosed.

My eyes were in a very sad state of swollen, crusty, weepy, red and generally disgusting. Not being entirely accustomed to looking like an entity that should be avoided at all cost, not to mention the pain associated with these lovely symptoms, I was not in the mood for anything less than complete, total and immediate relief. My doctor checked my eyes, checked the rashes which had by now had migrated to my neck, and were closing in on my face with a rapidity that was terrifying, and then sighed.

"Jenny, did you get a new pet?"

"Yes. A cat moved in three weeks ago." I answered.

"Are you allergic to cats?"

I did have the grace to feel slightly sheepish at this point. "Well, I am allergic, but as long as I wash my hands immediately after touching a cat, I'm fine."

The doctor looked me over. "Jenny, the cat is living with you, not visiting. There is dander all over your house now. You can either go on a stronger steroid, or get rid of the cat."

So Cahfee was booted to the garage yesterday. Margarita actually slept in the garage with the cat so Cahfee wouldn't be so lonely. I don't think I've ever catered to a new born that much. 'Course, I'm the mother who intentionally puts the bassinet in the closet so I can sleep even if the aforementioned new born is hollering his wee head off, so I probably shouldn't compare and contrast Margarita and me. It is going to take a few days for me to clean out the house enough that my symptoms go away. My eyes are still sore and red, but I'm finally on the mend.

Good Grief.

Joy, Peace and Prosperity

I have either poison ivy or some other allergic reaction rash on my arms and legs. It is really ITCHY! But then to cap it off, somehow I managed to contract conjunctivitis in my right eye this morning. I wash my hands constantly. I just don't understand how that's possible. But at least my eye can join my arms in the itching department.

In other news, Charles decided to spray Caroline's rabbit with Febreeze to give it a fresh minty smell this afternoon.

Oliver has been very, very naughty all day. He is asleep now. He is so adorable when he's asleep.

Vivian has advanced to the age of being a worthy foe for Oliver. They engage actively and physically in their arguments. It is highly amusing because Vivian does not run to mama for comfort and she doesn't whine. She forcefully pushes forward demanding her way. Oliver delights in these exchanges. He practically worships the ground she walks on for her worthiness in battle.

Gabriel still has no spine. Check back in a couple months. I'm hoping for some sort of masculinity to kick in any moment.

Caroline is as snooty as ever. She can actually say anything and make it sound hoity toity. I think it's a gift. "Please pass the milk." She can say it with such disdain--I never heard anything like it. "I have a mosquito bite on my arm." How a person can make that sound stuck up is beyond me, but somehow she manages. Tonight at dinner I looked over at her (she sits to my left) and said, "Caroline, do you think your sixteen already, or something?" She got up from the table, rolled her eyes at me and said, "Mom, I'm so totally sixteen." Do you engage at that point, or just shrug and go back to your dinner? It's not like I want to die on every hill. At some point I must choose the battles.

Tonight at dinner I made a snide comment that the children could only engage in conversation that was of general interest, and general interest would be defined as whatever mom, dad and Margarita found to be interesting. My comment was really directed at the rapid flow of drivel coming out of Charles and Gabriel, but Jonathan decided to take it very, very personally. He tried to assert his rights in our Republic, and made some sort of reference to the Constitution. I didn't bother getting into the socialistic, welfare state/tyranny we currently live in--decided not to go on a 20 minute rant concerning the butchery of millions of innocent Americans every year, or the evil of the Federal Reserve...just let all that go and focused on the fact that Jonathan lives in a benevolent dictatorship. That he had no say in his existence or provisions made for his education or living conditions, and he was entirely dependent on the ongoing benevolence of his parental units for all he laid claim to.

He became exceedingly sorrowful and emotional over this. Rather out of character for the chap. Jon asked him what his problem was and I decided to chime in. "He's on his period. You know how that is. He gets all emotional and probably has cramps." Jonathan was jolted out of his tears. "Mom!" He yelled. "What?" I asked innocently. I'm just trying to help."

Jon is going without hairspray these days. And he's kind of growing his hair out. This saves me from the monthly dilemma of not noticing when he gets a haircut. But with guys, are we supposed to notice? They pretty much spend their entire existence with the exact same hair style, except for that one year here or there where they try something totally new and outside the box, and then spend all the other years, looking at the pictures and wondering what they were thinking.

Tonight I showered and was getting ready for a meeting. Went into my closet to get a pair of pink flats, and they were not in their appointed place in my shoe hanging storage unit. I found this hugely irritating. So out of my bedroom I marched, and demanded that my six offspring get busy finding my shoes. I had no sympathy. I roared from the roof top. I knew one of them had made off with the shoes for idiotic reasons known only to themselves, and no one would have a moments peace until the shoes were found. I had already suffered the loss of a nice pair of black boots with the most charming buttons early last week thanks to Caroline's rabbit who was allowed a stroll through my closet complete with ample nibbling time.

After about 10 or 15 minutes, the shoes were found, on the grill in the back yard. I merely thanked the child who handed them to me, and did not bother pursuing the flow of logic and action that accompanied the relocation of my shoes. There are some things I simply do not have the steam to address.

Cahfee the Cat

My dear sister/assistant Margarita has moved in to be a full time help to me. And with Margarita has come her old, crotchety, very fat cat named Cahfee.

Cahfee is a pleasant animal. Mainly because she doesn't make noise, is potty trained, and in general is very low maintenance. However, Cahfee seems to have an affinity for my particular roosts in the house. For instance, there is a certain place where I always sit in the den. This is the seat that Cahfee has chosen. Not really a big deal, because I rarely sit down in the den, but still interesting. The place where I sit almost incessantly, is my desk chair.

Everytime I leave the house and return, Cahfee is happily stretched out on my chair, and refuses, REFUSES, to move. The first time this happened I was so obliging as to work around her. But then it occurred to me that this was ridiculous. So the next time, I moved Cahfee--big fat unwieldy Cahfee. She hissed and growled in transit, but didn't actually lash out. Well, yesterday when I attempted to move her, she hissed, growled and scratched at me, oh, and actually attempted to bite my arm.

I do not shudder from entering into battle or the fray as it were, but I didn't relish the thought of excessive claw and tooth abrasions on my hands and arms. Chiefly because I spend a bit of time everyday washing dishes and cleaning gross stuff. So it takes awhile for these things to heal.

I stepped back and looked at Cahfee. She laid back, gazed steadily at me, and seemed to say clear as day, " I'm not moving, so go about your business."

Not to be deterred, a went to the back of the big chair, lifted it carefully at an angle, and dumped Cahfee off. She was surprised at my brilliance, and hasn't sat upon my chair since.

Jollie Ollie

Every week when I make pancakes for breakfast, the children are annoyed because Dad gets maple syrup, and the rug rats get Mrs. Butterworth's or some such thing. Maple syrup is so expensive, and the children leave pools of syrup on their plates ,which irritates me. And after all, we certainly never got the real stuff when I was a kid.

Yesterday morning I decided to put the maple syrup in a canning jar and fill the maple syrup bottle with the cane syrup. First dummy up, Jollie Ollie. The syrup was poured over the steaming hot pancakes. Oliver took a deep whiff. He gazed at the plate and under his breath said, " This is that yucky syrup." He looked at his did with suspicion in his eyes, but decided to take a bite.

"Mom, did you switch out the syrup?" He demanded.

"What are you talking about Oliver? Why would I do such a thing?" I protested not exactly lying.

"Don't even try to lie to me. I know what you did," retorted Oliver, resignedly forking the polluted pancakes into his mouth.

What could I say? I grinned.

Bomethias aka Jonathan

For whatever reason, Jonathan's nickname is Bomethias. Today I was talking to Jonathan about his little comments he makes in Bible with Mr. G and then with his Dad during family devotions. He's always comparing things to Shakespeare, Dante, or something else, and the comparison can become seriously abstract. I was telling him that he was a bit of a show off, and to remember that faith without works is dead.

He looked at me and said,"I'm not a show off."

"Really," I replied rolling my eyes," then what are you?"

"I'm one of the greatest minds of the 22nd century."

"Jonathan, we are in the 21st century."

To which Jonathan responded, "Still?"

Oh, brother!

Family Circus

The other night the sitter was here, and Charles was watching a t.v. show. The sitter said, "Charles, I'll give you 5 more minutes." The sitter felt rather generous, since already he was getting to watch tv, which is not generally allowed, and then it was past his bedtime, plus the additional five minutes.

Charles turned to the sitter in disgust and said, " Five minutes! I can get more than that on Ebay."

This afternoon I got home from running errands and taking Oliver to gymnastics, and quite frankly, was totally and completely sick of my offspring. As in, I couldn't stand being around them. So I unloaded the groceries, got everyone out of the car, and then went and hid in the front yard sitting on the curb. For awhile the kids couldn't find me. They were playing in the backyard, or upstairs fighting with each other under the guise of doing homework.

Oliver found me first. He settled in next to me at the curb and looked at the advertisement from the mailbox next to us. "Mommy" (technically, I do not allow the children to call me mommy, though I've noticed to my horror that on occasion I refer to myself as mommy when speaking to the younger half, and Oliver calls me this on occasion when we are alone and he is feeling calm and thoughtful) "Mommy, when I grow up I'm going to move out and buy a bed just like that one," he said, pointing to the advertisement. "How many dollars is it? Do you think I can afford it?"

I didn't really answer the question. He then began investing his legs and feet. He is always, ALWAYS, barefoot. I now keep a pair of Walmart crocs in the car for the purpose of having something on his feet when we go into stores, etc. He studied his foot for a few moments. It has a couple scabs, scratches and gouges. He began tapping at it. "Mom, I think my foot has a broken leg, because it hurts."

Charles' Birthday Present

I decided to get Charles a parakeet for his birthday. To be perfectly honest, I've wanted a little bird my whole life. I love listening to the birds in the mornings when I wake up, and will hold off turning on the air conditioning for weeks after it gets hot, just so I wake up with the windows open. It drives Jon nuts.

Today was Charles' last day of school, and thus my last morning without Charles. I cleaned up the cage I bought used off of Craigslist, and prepared it for Fuzzuls arrival--that being the pre-chosen name of the bird, which Charles is of course, free to change once he receives the bird.

We are celebrating Charles' birthday on Sunday, so until then, fuzzuls is staying in my bathroom; more specifically, in our jacuzzi tub, on a stand, in his cage. I bought him this morning, and boy was he frightened and upset. I settled him into his cage, and we ignored him for a couple hours. I've gone up periodically to talk to fuzzuls and hold him, saying, "Step Up" when I want him to step up to my hand and "Step down" when I want him to go back to his stand. He is quite wild, having little human contact, if any, before today.

Fuzzuls is making tremendous progress. Already he perches nicely on my hand, and will eat from my other hand. He also gives me kisses on my nose. I might be too attached by Sunday to surrender Fuzzuls to Charles.

I had banned all the children from mentioning even a word about Charles birthday present. When I picked him up from school, on our way back to the car, I spotted a lizard and helped Charles catch the lizard. I had hoped that it would distract Oliver from mentioning Fuzzuls. The moment I was backing out of the driveway, Oliver bursts out with," Don't worry, Charles. I'm not going to tell you your birthday present. It's a surprise. It isn't a bird."

I immediately said, "Oliver, not another word," to which he responded, " I didn't tell him we got him a bird."

Charles clearly knows he's getting a bird, or will probably get a bird. But he doesn't know it's already here living in my bathroom. So maybe there'll still be some surprise.

Rum Cake

I'm baking six rum cakes today. Three are in the oven now. Ingredient list:

3 lbs sourcream
3 lbs mini chocolate chips
6 boxes yellow cake mix
6 lg boxes instant chocolate pudding
2 dozen eggs
1 qt. canola oil
1 1/2 lbs butter
a whole lot of rum.

Yummy!

Cool Mom

The other day Charles was bug hunting in the backyard, and I came out to jump on the trampoline for a few minutes. It helps to jump for 5 minutes when I've been sitting at my desk for hours working on prolife stuff and Caroline's school work, which is reason enough to cause vast quantities of pent up frustrations.

I was going through my routine, bounding happily away, and then I did a couple flips. I didn't notice that Charles had ceased hunting and was just watching me. Finally, on my last flip, I landed just right, on my feet, and kept bouncing. Charles came running over.

"Mom, you're just like a rock star! You are the coolest mom ever!"

I guess dragging my kids to the Capitol and abortion mills isn't entirely ruining my reputation. Especially if I can do flips on my trampoline and land on my feet.

So much for my potty training prowess.

I despise toilet training. DESPISE. And I've never actually toilet trained anyone, though I've made a few attempts. It all ends up being a matter of the power of the bribe. When I light upon the magical bribe, voila! The beautiful happens.

Jonathan was bribed with a package of big boy Buzz Lightyear underwear. Caroline had her ears pierced. Charles.....not currently remembering, but it isn't vital to this current story. Oliver...took me awhile to find what caused the magic, but live crickets from Pet Smart was the lucky charm. Everyday he kept his pants dry, he got three crickets. Gabriel......still searching.

I had decided last week to use a method that was somewhat successful with Oliver on Gabriel: having the kid go without underwear. That's right. Except for a shirt, essentially naked. Oliver would make it to the toilet, but as soon as you put pants on him he was back to wetting them (until crickets became rewards).

I had put regular pants on Gabriel, which he proceeded to wet one set after another all day. Frustrated, I decided to remove everything. At first he was upset to be without his clothes unlike Oliver who had been thoroughly joyful at not having to wear pants. He'd likely join a nudist colony if he knew such a thing existed.

Within 10 minutes Gabriel had acclimated to life without pants, and was running around the upstairs with his siblings. Suddenly, Gabriel came down rubbing his eyes and attempting to cry, but not being quite successful. "What's the matter?" I asked, a little worried. "Did you pee on something?"

"No," Gabriel quickly responded. I was relieved. "Well, then what's your problem?" I asked going back to my dinner preparations. He didn't say anything, just continued the eye rubbing and fake crying. Oliver was bounding down the stairs. "He pooped on the stairs, mom!" He announced clearly thrilled to be the bearer of bad news. "What? What do you mean?" I was incredulous. His bottom looked clean enough.

I looked at Gabriel and he nodded his assent to Oliver's story, moving his fists a little away from his eyes to observe my response. I raced for the stairs, and there, yes, there on the stair was a perfect cow pie in miniature. How the kid managed to squat and get that out leaving his bottom relatively clean in the process, I will never know. The fact that he decided the stairs was a good spot to deliver the goods is hard for my mind to get around.

Fortunately, the little cow pie cleaned up quite nicely. Like one of those stiff dog turds you might find on the floor where it lifts off without a stain or residue, but you clean the daylights out that foot square area because of the very idea.

However, the pants off potty training method is clearly not an option for my 5th born. Until another idea presents itself, we are back in diapers. Still two in diapers. Sigh.

life in general

I've had a number of funny stories in my brain, but now that I've sat down to type them out, they are not currently accessible. I can't really remember even one.

Oliver started gymnastics today. I must say that watching a gymnastics class is highly, highly entertaining. I would recommend that all parents skip basketball, soccer, baseball (especially baseball), ballet, tap dance, or any other activity and just go with gymnastics. Here's why. There is only one massive room--kind of on the scale of a smallish football field--and the entire floor is covered in matting, trampolines, balancing beams, volts, spring boards, parallel bars, and other sundry items associated with the art of gymnastics. All classes train simultaneously. One kid is running at top speed one way toward a spring board, vault and flip, etc, while another kid goes in the opposite direction to perform the same. They almost seem like they'll collide.

The little tikes are going through rounds on balancing beams, another group is on the trampoline, the boys are on the parallel bars. This is one highly entertaining hour. I do believe I could sit there all day, in a rather comatose glazed over state, and be entertained. The best part is that the noise is so great that it is impossible to make phone calls.

Oliver LOVED it. He told me it was better than catching lizards, and we all know how high lizard catching ranks on the list of joys for Jollie Ollie. I signed him up for one hour classes every Wednesday and Friday. I figure since he has swim on Tuesday and Thursday, he'll be a more tired chap in general, and thus more pleasant to be around. Oliver is like a puppy. A tired Ollie is an obedient Ollie.

I just remembered a funny story. The other day Oliver and Gabriel were doing something together and Oliver said, "When I grow up, I'm going to say bad words." The babysitter was standing there and asked, "What kind of bad words are you going to say?" Oliver paused for a moment, hesitant to indulge, but then proceeded," I'm gonna say darn it (but it came out dawn it with a real southern twang)". Gabriel looked at Oliver in horror.

"Do not say that!" He objected. Oliver grinned. "Dawn it," he said again, and then, "Dawn it, dawn it, dawn it." Gabriel puffed up in indignation and said," If you don't stop saying that, I'm going to kick you in the butt."

When the story was repeated to Jon and me we were rather proud of Gabriel, that he stood up to his brother, though Oliver pounds him regularly.

I wonder if Oliver will be a little disappointed when he grows up and realizes saying bad words isn't quite as fulfilling as he anticipates.

Working from home

When you "get" to work from home AND you own 6 small humans (though I'm not sure that I really own them. I think the civil government actually owns them since I have to report to the civil government how I'm educating them, and if I forget to mail in attendance reports they threaten to send in a social worker, but I digress, though I do wonder if the social worker were to come over, would he rescue me or the children?). Anyway, back to my former thread--when you "get" to work from home and you have 6 of your offspring living with you, it makes for a rather frustrating work experience.

My husband has recounted on occasion the numerous interruptions he experiences over the course of a work day. This is something with which I can certainly sympathize. Take today for instance.

I got up this morning, brushed my teeth, washed my face, and donned my bathrobe. I went downstairs hoping to find my dear husband a clean t-shirt. Alas, no clean t-shirt, so he had to wear a t-shirt with wording and a very dark dress shirt to cover the wording up. Anyway, I brewed a pot of coffee, answered some email, wrote an article, and headed up to the nursery to wake the tribe. (I've decided to recreate the entire day for you so hopefully you will more fully experience the culminating frustration).

Fortunately, no bed wetters this morning. I changed Vivian and Gabriel's diapers, and brought the little people downstairs for breakfast. I had put all the dining room chairs in the foyer last night (well, in reality, I ordered Jonathan to do that) under the delusion that I would mop the dining room floor before going to bed. Hah! That didn't happen. I was still optimistic that I might get the floor mopped today, so I put the children up to the counter in the kitchen.

While urging them to shovel cereal into their mouths more rapidly, I packed Charles lunch, and started barking the usual orders: Get your book bag, brush your hair, brush your teeth, hurry up, don't touch your brother, leave Vivian alone, what are you, an animal? put your cereal bowl in the sink, don't you give me that look, go practice, and i mean practice-no having fun, I want to hear scales, and sonatas, got it? Did you people make your beds? I don't want to see wet towels on the floor. (Need I go on, or are you getting the idea?)

I pulled clothes out of the dryer, dumped it onto the sofa--suffice it to say, I rotated laundry, and then headed out the door with Vivian, Gabriel, Oliver and Charles, in order to take Charles to school. Caroline and Jonathan were pretending to get their instruments out. On the way to school, I made some business phone calls, and quizzed Charles on his spelling words. I was going through the words reminding him of all the phonics rules, etc, when he said, "Mom, is this spelling or phonics, because it is beginning to sound like phonics." I retorted that spelling was applied phonics, so get over it. He grinned. I have a feeling that he expected that response.

Since it was warm outside, I dropped Charles off at school, and merely opened the gate to the door, rather than actually walking him to the door. I figured if no one let him in, at least it was warm and he'd have a jolly time playing while waiting for me to return after lunch. We were back home in minutes, where I discovered Caroline was still not practicing ("Mom, I had to go to the bathroom, wash my hands, blah, blah, blah"-I don't know why they even try making excuses anymore. Do they really think I'm going to buy it?)

I took Gabriel and Vivian to the nursery and actually dressed them this time, and then fixed Vivian's hair in the usual pigtails and bows followed by Caroline's hair in the double braid twist, which she loves best. She was still in the "getting my cello out" phase, so I didn't interrupt bonafide practice time.

I straightened the nursery, and then rotated laundry loads again, taking the time to fold Jon's t-shirts. He will be most pleased as he has enough for two weeks now. :-) I answered more email, made a phone call, and then headed upstairs to take a shower while Gabriel and Oliver watched a Thomas the Train DVD. As I sit here and reflect, I think that I actually took a shower and dressed without a single knock on the door much less the usual 5-10 knocks on the door. I'm glad I'm typing this out so I can enjoy that fact on some level. I didn't bother blow drying my hair, or putting on shoes since I had no plans to leave the house.

After my shower, I rotated laundry again, did some folding, and then hunkered down at the dining room table with Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb, aka: Jonathan and Caroline. The subjects: latin, grammar, spelling and mathematics. Caroline is a complete and total dunce when it comes to spelling. I really don't understand it. Spelling is memorization. Even a complete idiot can be good at spelling. No intelligence needed. Caroline just doesn't care, at all. Not even a little. We are reviewing old lists, and I'm determined that she is going to spell every single word correctly. We had 5 practice quizzes today, and she misspelled the words differently every time. I considered beating my head or her head against the nearest brick wall, but settled for making her write out the misspelled words numerous times. The last "quiz" she got more right than wrong, so we are moving in the right direction-but then, I'm not sure if it's chance, or she can really spell the word. Mmmm. Math went well. Strangely enough Caroline remembered what she learned yesterday when we reviewed it today. Jonathan did great. We didn't actually get to latin and grammar. My girlfriend showed up around noon with her two kids and Charles in tow, and then was off to run some errands, leaving her two behind. My clan was ecstatic about having play mates.

At this point--you may have guessed--I checked email, and answered some phone calls. Then I made lunch for the helpless trio, aka: Vivian, Gabriel and Oliver. I figured the other ones could fend for themselves if lunch even occurred to them. (Caroline didn't realize that she never had lunch until she sat down to dinner. That figures).

I made a batch of gingerbread cookies, and everyone came and scarfed up the entire batch. Then I made some magic bars, which are only half gone. I collected dishes, picked up some clutter, fixed Julianna's hair so that it was the same as Caroline's, changed a dirty diaper, rotated the laundry, put Vivian, Gabriel and Oliver down for naps, and then settled in at my desk in order to accomplish some meaningful work.

I wasn't at my desk 5 minutes, when here comes a kid. "Can I have a drink of water?" was the question. I look at this child and I wonder--he has two eyes and a brain. Is he really incapable of getting his cup, filling it with water, and drinking it without making me in some way a part of the process? It isn't like this is his first day with me as his mother. I get the water and then I turn back to my desk, and start digging. You see, for the past 4 days, I've been occupied with meetings, a convention, church, company, and more meetings. So my desk is in a 4 day state of neglect, which to be perfectly frank, is terrifying. I take out a larger shovel and attempt to dig faster. I toss out junk, write thank you notes for donations, take care of bills, respond to more email, write " to do" lists all the while answering urgent questions along these lines: "Mom, where's my rifle? Mom, can we go in the front yard and ride scooters? Do you have a pencil? I want to color. Are we doing art today? Can I have a snack? I need a drink. Where's Charles?

This is in fact my favorite question next to "where are my shoes?" Does this child not see that I am sitting at my desk working. Does it not occur to this child that I know where Charles is located as well as he does? Furthermore, do I really look like I am even remotely interested in answering these types of questions. I guess not. Instead, I stopped what I was doing, and looked at Oliver. I stared at Oliver, until he became uncomfortably aware of my displeasure and began to awkwardly stick his tongue out as if there was something tasty on the bottom of his chin, and he was very desperate to get at it. I continued the stare and silence. He stretched his arms out in a stiff unbending way and put them behind his back, finger tips touching, still with his tongue hanging out and great discomfort. After staring for a few seconds longer, I turned back to my work, and he tromped away deciding to look for Charles without my aid.

Unfortunately, the little people got up from their naps. This was very sad indeed, as I had not only NOT reached the bottom of my desk, but still had an immense amount to accomplish (you may wonder why I am now wasting time writing this rather than doing the aforementioned work--but that is because I'm in need of a diversion, and have not updated this blog in quite some time). Gabriel came down the stairs looking slightly mopey, and stood by my chair. I continued to work, and then made a phone call. During the phone call, I smelled a smell that humans really should not be forced to endure. I looked over at Gabriel still standing at my side, and yes, he bore the look of guilt. The look that says, "Yes, I realize that I could have very easily taken 15 steps to the toilet right over there and dropped this nasty, stinky, disgusting, dump, but instead, I chose to stand right here and load my pants, and share this delightful aroma, not only with you, mom, but with everyone who walks through this room for the next hour." For awhile I tried to ignore it, needing to finish the phone conversation, but eventually it was too much for me, and I hung up the phone and changed the very gross diaper. Then I headed back to my desk. In a few minutes, Vivian was at my side with her own special aroma. I got up and changed that dirty diaper.

The afternoon continued along these lines. I broke up the occasional fight, found drawing paper and markers for Gabriel, rotated loads, got my keys out of Vivian's clutches, gave another spelling quiz, rotated laundry, and had a cup of tea. I was surprisingly calm and resigned to constant interruption. But by 6 pm, I had endured the last straw, the final interruption, the very last grain of patience had dropped into the bottom of the hour glass. Fortunately, this coincided with Jon coming home.

Off to the Zoo

Yesterday afternoon we all went downtown, and as Charles said, "It's a miracle, we aren't going to the Capitol." We did drive past the Capitol and the children waved enthusiastically glad to be going by.

At the zoo we came upon the silver backed gorillas. One gorilla squatted on the grassy bank, staring at us, when suddenly he stood, turned around and bent over. Well, gorilla bottoms look very similar to human bottoms, and when the gorilla turned around displaying his quite large bottom, Oliver was astonished. He yelled in horror, "Mom, he's not wearing any pants!"

I pointed out that the giraffes didn't wear pants, and Oliver laughed and said," Oh, yeah."

This morning, Oliver stripped off all his clothing, and enthusiastically ran around the upstairs saying," I'm a gorilla."

I wish

Last night I was assembling lunches for the next day- 7 of them, and Oliver was watching from the bar stools. Jonathan, Caroline and Charles were just hanging around getting water and talking. Somehow the fact that Jon was at school came up. Oliver said, "Poor dad has to go to work and school. Mom only has to make lunches everyday and go to bed."

Random, very random...

We have a LOT of laundry. I'm not entirely certain where it comes from, or why it must be done so often. The whole food and laundry thing is rather time consuming around here. I'm looking forward to summer if for no other reason than everyone wears less and no socks!

Jon and I spent all day Saturday working at our desks. Jon settled in at the desk in "Grandpa's room" (although my dad has now been gone for over a week), and enjoyed peace and quiet while doing homework and business work. I was the less fortunate one in the kitchen eating area where my much nicer roll top desk rests, but where children and all their noise also resides. I should have put in my ipod. What was I thinking. I was busy working as fast as I possibly could on pro-life stuff, writing articles, etc. The down side of all this was that no one was taking out the garbage, doing the dishes, cleaning the bathrooms and folding laundry.

When the sun began to set, Jon put his work away and started cutting hair attached to our 4 little boys. They had serious homeschool hair going on. Yikes! I decided that I should also call it quits and start working on the vast quantity of dishes stacked up in the sink from breakfast and lunch.

When our tasks were done, Jon decided it was a night for Golden Corral. So off we headed even though it was after 8pm. Everyone else in Kennesaw was also eating late as the place was packed! The kids, who now eat like total and complete hogs, went through an astonishing amount of food followed by several icecream cones each. After Gabriel and Oliver had filled their little tummies, they curled up in their chairs and went to sleep. Jon and I realized that we had forgotten to put them down for naps! We had to shake them awake for icecream, since I knew I didn't want to hear them fuss about it on the drive back home. We pulled into the driveway after 9, and the kids couldn't climb into bed fast enough.

Vivian is really talking. She says "It hurts my hair" when I'm brushing her hair, or asks "Where keys? In purse?" and mimics everything the rest of us say. It is SO cute. We have to give her lots of squeezes. She is the most adorable on Sundays, because she wears this krinoline slip that is all ruffly and poofy under her dresses. With her little prissy white sweater, her saddle oxford shoes, and her hair in pigtails, she looks to be fresh off Leave It To Beaver or some other similar show. We end up leaving her in her Sunday clothes for the day because she's so nice to look at. :-)

I went to go visit my friend in the hospital today. She gave birth to her ninth child yesterday. This is my friend who trained me in the art of sidewalk counseling in front of abortuaries. I sat down to talk with her and in walks her doctor, Dr. Tate. Well, it just so happens that Dr. Tate did not deliver any of my babies (much to his annoyance) but he circumcised all my boys. Chiefly because he is a good Jewish doctor, and that is just the sort of man I want dealing with that part of the anatomy of my children. Anyway, my girlfriend and her husband were a commercial of praise for Dr. Tate. He's only delivered their last child so the other 8 were with various physicians and midwives around Atlanta. We all settled into a very interesting and widely varied conversation for nearly 3 hours. Upon parting ways I did promise Dr. Tate that should I have any more children, he can have the honor of delivering. He was pleased about that.

Vivian is sitting in my lap as I'm typing this. She frequently insists upon sitting here when I'm working away at something. She chatters, sips her drink, and holds her blankey. Her favorite thing is to walk around the downstairs and eat at the same time. This does not coincide with my favorite things so she doesn't get to do it very often.

Family with Flu

We all went through the flu for two weeks. It was really dreadful. What is a million times worse than personally having the flu, is having your spouse and six children having it at the same time. We were all worn out, miserable and crabby.

One afternoon, Oliver dragged himself to the nursery and climbed into Charles bed. We found him hours later, sound asleep, sheets and clothing soaked. Jon was very frustrated. He woke up Oliver and said, "why didn't you get into your own bed?" Oliver's mattress is covered in plastic, and Charles' is not. Oliver mumbled some vague response about not wanting to mess up his own bed. I'm guessing he just didn't have the energy to put on a pull-up. Jon pulled Oliver off the bed and he stood there soaked and dejected while Jon stripped the bedding and carried it downstairs to the washer.

I went over to Oliver and began pulling off his clothes. He looked at me mournfully and said," It is very hard to be small, because whenever you go to sleep, you pee."

In other news, Charles lost a tooth. I had to yank it out after two meals of hearing him fuss that he couldn't eat with the loose tooth. I took all I could, then escorted him to the den, where napkin in hand I pulled the tooth. Charles was a bit panicked, but also curious. The front root on the little tooth was ridiculously long, and clearly to blame for causing such problems. Charles received $12 from his Mormor, and I bought him a wallet to hold the money. Oliver received a wallet and a couple dollars too, and when I say we are heading to the Capitol, everyone is eager to offer their money for parking. :-)

Now I get to park in legislative parking so parking is finally free!!

Mind tricks

This afternoon in the school room I laughed right out loud following these events recorded just as they occurred.

I entered the bright school room, which is now, thanks to my dad, freshly painted, with a great big bookshelf along one wall, laden with antique leather bound volumes, and the school desks line up in front of the windows. The entire air of the room is wholly inspiring: the sunshine coming in, unhindered by blinds or curtains, bookshelves to the right and left, bright yellow paint on the walls and white trim. Jonathan sat at his desk thumbing through his World History volume, pausing here and there to take notes with a dutiful air. I stood and observed him for a moment, with a book in my hand.

"What are you reading?" Jonathan asked as he looked up. "Pavlov," was the answer. "I've decided that in order to insure positive results in my parenting style, I should turn to mind control." Jonathan grinned broadly and replied," The Jedi teach us that only the weak minded are influenced by mind control. I would say Caroline will prove your most responsive subject."

Sick kids

Late yesterday afternoon Caroline came crying to the top of the stairs. I was, of course as you may have guessed, seated at my desk working on the computer. Caroline said as she came down," I just threw up!" I considered that momentarily and then asked," Did you reach the toilet?" to which she responded," Yes."

I was relieved. "Well, then, congratulations, you just earned $2." Caroline seemed to brighten up considerably. I continued," Would you like it now or later?" The tears were gone now. "I'll take it now, please," she said with a hint of a smile. A good Capitalist can appreciate money even when throwing up.

This morning I had to forego going to the Capitol because Caroline is still quite sick, and now Gabriel has a fever and mopey disposition. Jonathan decided at 10:30am that he needed a snack. So he started munching pistachios at the counter. "Hand me that bag," I ordered, still typing rapidly. "What's the magic word?" He replied not moving from the counter. "Give them to me now or I'll kick you in the shins," came my ready response. "When someone asks that nicely, how can you refuse them?" He said to no one in particular handing me the bag. It occurred to me that Lucy and Linus had a similar conversation once upon a time concerning a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Yikes! I was Lucy.

Anyone still out there?

I have not updated this blog in over a month! So for any of you that may still be out there, I thought I would jot down a few things.

Vivian has come into her own realm. She is bossy, plays with her dollies and blankey almost all day, and enjoys taking toys from her siblings. She's also become a talented lobbyist at the Capitol, where she makes friends with the legislators, secretaries and security guards, showing them her fetal babies, and allowing the guards to pull on her pigtails and ask her questions. When forced to sit in the carrier pack she spends her time waving at everyone with a big smile saying "hi!". I've noticed when I go to the Capitol alone, though I enjoy it more, I don't get near the same amount of attention.

Gabriel is in potty training mode. This is an exasperating process. Unfortunately, with boys, you can sit them on the toilet but that doesn't aim the equipment the right way. I have no patience for a kid sitting on a potty seat, peeing in a steady stream onto the floor in front of him while crying that it isn't going into the potty bowl. The command Gabriel hears most--"Be proactive!"

Oliver has discovered video games. This is a big temptation for me because it holds his attention for extended periods of time. Since lizards are currently not available in the back yard, and won't be until warmer weather arrives, this is the only activity that holds his attention for extended periods of time. I realized that I was going to have to stop indulging myself when one morning following breakfast, Oliver raced over to Gabriel and starting poking him. The squeals were readily forthcoming, and Oliver paused, turned to me and said," Should I go play video games, mom?"

Charles is his same old self plodding through life in his own reflective, logical sort of way. He enjoys his school work. When he gets really behind on sleep, he gets very sarcastic and slow. Last night he sat gazing at his dinner plate and rather than eating struck up a conversation with Caroline. It was already very late, so Grandpa (who is currently staying with us) said, " Charles stop talking and eat your dinner." Charles immediately got his obstinate sullen look. "What's your problem, Charles?" I asked. He muttered," You'd have a problem too if someone couldn't mind his own business and interrupted your conversation."

I must go, but shall be more faithful at posting.